The Poetry of Wayne Edwards
WE
First Love
On my first day of class
I knew she’d be my girl.
Those dimples and her smile
And that bouncy little curl.
The other boys just melted
And turned to mushy goo
But I was sophisticated,
I knew just what to do.
On the kindergarten playground
I’d let her know I’d picked her.
She smiled and took my words away,
So I ran, but first I kicked her.
WE
Sisterly Love
My sister gives me her old clothes.
She always gives them to me free.
And I wonder why she does it,
I guess it’s because she loves me.
It must be a major bother,
Having to go to the clothes store,
‘Cause when she gives her clothes to me,
She always has to buy some more!
WE
Secret Love
I know somebody with a crush on you
And I know somebody who likes your looks;
Someone who’d like to walk you home from school,
Somebody who’d like to carry your books.
I know someone who writes you unsent notes;
Somebody who loves everything you do.
And if I weren’t so awfully bashful,
I would come right over and tell you who.
WE
Has anyone survived childhood without at least once entertaining the thought of running away? The little girl in “Runaway” wants to teach her parents a lesson by leaving home, but she has been well trained and there are certain rules that must be adhered to even in her disobedient act of running away.
As adults, we set sensible boundaries for ourselves in our everyday lives. These boundaries are dictated, in part, by such things as laws, religion, and the opinion of others but mainly by what we refer to as our conscience.
The Bible says, “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Proper training is impossible to forget. Just as the little girl could not bring herself to disobey by crossing the street alone, our children will not forget the values that we instilled in them when they were young.
Runaway
My Mommy made me very mad,
So I thought that I’d run away.
And when she made me eat liver,
There was no way that I could stay!
Then last night when she cooked spinach
And put some on my plate to eat,
I tried to feed it to the dog;
That’s when my Daddy tanned my seat.
I have got my yellow blankie
‘Cause I never sleep without it.
I hope that my parents miss me
But I really kind of doubt it.
So I sit here on the sidewalk
My yellow blankie at my feet.
It is as far as I can go;
I’m not allowed to cross the street!
WE
“Why the Unicorns Missed the Boat” is a take-off on one of everyone’s favorite Bible stories, Noah’s Ark. I like the story so well myself that I may write more poems about it, so don’t be surprised.
To my knowledge, this is the only one of my poems that has been published in a foreign publication. A friend wrote from England and asked permission to use it in her church’s magazine. Fame comes in small doses.
My grandchildren liked it and immediately began guessing what the animals were. Several others have told me that they have read it out loud to children and that the children had great fun guessing which animal was being described. You might also enjoy trying that; see if they can guess what animal is writing the letter before you read the last verse.
Why the Unicorns Missed the Boat
Oh it was to be such a lovely cruise,
We could hardly wait since we got the news.
The letter had come several weeks before,
When the mailman had left it stuck on our door.
We didn’t have glasses to read the small print
But the brochure with pictures sure gave us a hint.
It said that the couples who won this were few
So we were surprised that our neighbors won too.
It would cause us chagrin, the size of their trunks.
Now the ones down the street with the terrible humps,
That they had won too put us both in the dumps.
Such colors they wear, everything black and white.
The husband is such a mean little fink,
And if you cross him, he can raise such a stink.
There’s the couple that we refer to as “Ears”,
They steal from our garden and drive us to tears.
If they go along we mustn’t be bitter,
But with so many kids, can they get a sitter?
We knew they like travel, but they always flew.
They stole from our cornfield, almost every day,
But we made a dummy that scared them away.
With eyes that glow yellow and stripes up and down.
We just can’t believe that they were invited,
Whoever did that was certainly shortsighted.
Last time they visited was not such a thrill.
As nice as she is, he kicks and he gripes
And when they go out, they always wear stripes.
But the way that they frolic is just not our style.
And the couple with long necks, who say not a word,
They’ll be there too; at least so we’ve heard.
We just can’t believe all the riffraff who’re going,
The passenger list must be overflowing.
The cruise ship’s departing, it’s leaving we know,
But with that kind of trash, we’re not going to go.
Now looking at pictures, this boat can’t be fun.
It doesn’t have portholes or decks for a run.
And then there’s the captain; he looks much too old;
With a crew that’s all family, or so we’ve been told.
We’ve nothing in common; they’re all such a pain.
Besides, there’s the weather, its beginning to rain.
Now haven’t you guessed? Are you still in the dark?
That’s why Mr. and Mrs. Unicorn didn’t go on the Ark.
Adam’s Underpants
Willy’s grandma liked to press leaves,
In her books between the pages.
She wrapped them up in wax paper
And then left them there for ages.
Willy found one of Grandma’s leaves,
He yelled, “Mom” with a happy shout.
“I was looking through Gram’s Bible
And Adam’s underpants fell out!”
WE
Church Foot
My foot just went to sleep.
It does it out of spite.
I hate it when it happens.
Now it’s gonna be up all night.
WE
I enjoy our church. We have a great pastor who preaches great sermons; it just seems to take him a long time to get around to them. Quite often, after telling us to stand for a song, he forgets about the song and forgets that we are standing! Worst of all, especially for all of us older people, he forgets to tell us we can sit down.
Our church, like most, has a senior citizen’s group, those fifty-five and older, called Prime-timers. No one over the age of fifty-five likes to stand when there is a close place to sit down; seconds seem like minutes and minutes seem like hours.
Our pastor has a good sense of humor. Even though he has a long way to go before he’s fifty-five, we always invite him to our Prime-timers meetings. He enjoys the wisdom of his older parishioners, but most of all he enjoys the good food. We always have potluck and people over fifty-five really know how to cook.
When I wrote “Church,” I had all of the Prime-timers sign it. We framed it and gave it to the pastor for Christmas.
It might just be my imagination, but it seems we stand a lot longer now!
Church
It’s my favorite place to be
Where I can hear the Word of God
And listen to the preacher tell
Where Bible men have lived and trod.
To hear about commandments ten
And learn by heart the Golden Rule;
To sing the songs that I had learned,
In younger days, in Sunday school.
Old songs that never seem to age
But ever seem to ring anew.
I sing, as I stand there aching,
With warm thoughts of my cushioned pew.
As while our learned pastor speaks,
With the words that seem to carry,
The elegance that he had learned
In some distant seminary.
And then he always stops to ask,
“Does anybody else feel hot?”
He never sees me shake my head,
And mumble that, “Of course I’m not!”
So then I have to wrap up in
My constant friend, my woolen shawl,
And through thick glasses, try to read
Words always printed ‘way too small.
By then my legs have both grown numb,
And my whole back I think’s gone dead.
Right then is when I start to wish
That I had stayed at home in bed!
My every thought by then has turned
To all the places that I ache;
That’s when I notice, when he prays,
How terribly long it seems to take.
As I obediently stand
There, literally it seems, for days,
I should appreciate, I know,
His every thought and every phrase.
But the words for which I’ve waited,
Words I long to hear repeated,
Four little words I never miss,
Are the words, “You may be seated.”
And the church grew deathly quiet.
Then the little boy did something
That caused a giggling riot.
With eyes round as two big saucers,
And as frightened as he could be.
He yelled over Hippo’s shoulder,
“You all had better pray for me?”
WE
Student Driver
My nerves are all shot,
My hair’s turning white.
My hands are a mess,
No nails left to bite.
My whole life just passed
In front of my eyes.
My throat is raspy
From terrified cries.
I’m going to die,
No way to survive.
I just started teaching
My teen how to drive!
WE
Age Of Accountability asks a question that is very human, not only regarding religion but in our everyday life. Just how far can we push the envelope? I remember wondering, as a very small child, if something that I had done was bad enough to keep me out of the Rapture. Since these are very real concerns of our children, it is important for us to address the issues with them.
We must never use religion as a boogieman to coerce our children into doing something. I once heard a mother say, “It’s a wonder that God didn’t strike you dead!” That kind of teaching really installs a love of God in a child’s heart.
I hope that Tommy got a good answer from his pastor. It’s just such questions from children that test a preacher’s skill.
Age of Accountability
The preacher preached a sermon,
He described the fires of hell.
It frightened little Tommy
And he didn’t feel so well.
He asked Pastor, after church,
“God knows that I’ve turned seven.
Just how bad can I be now
And still get into Heaven?”
WE
Letter from Camp
Dear Folks,
Our camp master said that we all should write,
Because of the flash flood we had here last night.
It wasn’t as bad as you saw on TV.
(That red tent was mine that was caught in the tree.)
No one was in camp; we were on a night hike;
On the side of the mountain, we were looking for Mike.
If you talk to Mike’s mother, he’s writing a letter.
The cast slows him down but he’s fast getting better.
The storm was real fun, just a little bit frightening
But it helped us find Mike because of the lightning.
The men with the bloodhounds showed us the trail;
They were hunting a bad guy who broke out of jail.
Fire-building, to me, has been the most fun;
If your clothes catch on fire, you must never run.
When starting a fire put your gas in a cup;
If you pour from the can, the thing will blow up.
These lessons we learned from my friend Harry Pile,
Who’s no longer hairy, at least for a while.
The bullets he had in two of his pockets,
Really were cool, they shot off like rockets.
Our craft teacher’s worked in two different states,
He said he made shoes and car license plates.
He’s teaching us things to help us through life.
Like making a spoon into a neat knife.
I caught me a snake, it’s black, red and yellow.
He stays in my pocket like a good little fellow.
The camp master said it’s important to know,
In what kind of order the three colors go.
The old swimming hole smells some better now,
The tow truck man came and took out the cow.
For us that can’t swim, there’s not much to do,
So the camp master lets us take out the canoe.
We use that canoe to hide food from the bears;
Craft teacher used tape to fix all the tears.
We may get home late ’cause the brakes are so bad.
And the man who’s to drive us has really been mad.
Just last night he told us he might just refuse,
Unless someone tells what we did with his booze.
P.S. One last question, I almost forgot,
How long since I had my last tetanus shot?
WE