Humorous poetry by Wayne Leman

Poet Lariat

If I got some pointy-toed boots
And a cowboy hat,
Could I be
A poet lariat?

w.l. 3/2/93


Carpe Diem

I sailed upon the open seas, the day
was bright and happy,
I tried to grasp the moment,
seize the time, but butterfly-
like time cannot be seized,
it flutters on,
the clock cannot be freezed.
Each hour just keeps passing on,
no matter Latinate we speak,
each day will soon be gone.
So, seize the day's a waste of time
especially in my boat,
far better just enjoy the seas, the day
is meant to float.

12/29/94


Comas and Commas

When trying to make your spelling stronger
it's easy to confuse comas and commas.
But, remember: the pause for the shorter word's longer
and associates with life's greater traumas.

w.l. 10/16/93


April

April is ambivalent these days:
ashamed to bare her pale limbs,
afraid to doff her winter coat,
yet eager to absorb the sun's
warm rays that bloomed the daffodils
and greened the grass she'd like to walk
barefoot upon. Today a late
snowstorm provides her an excuse
to wear her winter clothes in spring.
Maybe she'll take off her coat next month.
May, be!

w.l. 4/30/95


Mary Had a Little Iamb

Mary had a little iamb.
Its foot was right, just so.
And everywhere that Mary rhymed
Her iamb was sure to go.

'Twas Anna's dog that Mary feared:
He bit her, growled his best.
In the yard, down the street, and to school everyday
She was chased by that dog, Anna's pest.

w.l. 11/1/93


The Hunt

The stealthy hunter pads along
through jungled verbal scents
and keenly sniffs the air for clues
to senselessness and sense.

It's meaning stalking savory words
and when it spots its prey
it creeps in closer, leaps to kill--
and licks its chops all day.

w.l. 10/27/93


Paranoid

There once was a disturbed humanoid
who let everyone get him annoyed.
He thought all talk was attack,
out to get him behind his back.
His shrink said, "He's just paranoid."

w.l. 4/29/94


Poetry Patrol

The cops are on their beats,
batons are in their hands.
The music of the streets
is for the poetry bands.

The meter maid's on time
checking style of the feet
and if there's proper rhyme,
real poetry's rules to meet.

A crowd with message terse
surrounds the captive's jail
Chanting at length, "Free Verse!
We friends can post his bail."

But sentence had been set
with rules writ long ago:
Verse could not be freed yet
'til freestyle he'd outgrow.

w.l. 10/8/93


Ode (Owed) On a Keyboard
(upon turning in a writing assignment)

The parable:

Once there was a little cell
It grew and grew and grew.
Its walls could not support its size,
It had to split in two.

The two began to grow and grow,
And grow and grow some more.
Their walls could not support their size.
You guessed it, soon 'twas four....

The analogy:

Embarrassed though the author is
By pages stacked so tall
Embarrassed more, oh would he be
Were there no page at all.

The pages can survive the axe
Of future software ZAP.
The present must proceed, it will,
While author grabs a nap.


Return to my Poetry Index page