The Poetry of Wayne Edwards


Manger Scene

by Wayne Edwards


It is Christmas time again,

With the many manger scenes,

Both shepherds poor and wise men,

Who were all of wealthy means.


The cattle are all healthy

And the donkey is well fed.

And little baby Jesus,

Has a halo 'round his head.


Everything is so spotless

Mary's clothes all look so clean.

It looks like they had just come,

From a Laundromat machine.


The scene is oh so cozy,

With admirers gathered there.

The odor of Christmas trees

And fresh hay are in the air.


And on Joseph's face a smile,

Their future so bright and clear.

The wise men's gold for their tax,

And soft Christmas tunes to hear.


God would pick a perfect place,

For the birth of his one son,

An atmosphere filled with joy

And people all having fun.


The manger scenes that we buy

And then view with such delight,

May not be too accurate,

Of what happened late that night.


History says that Mary,

At the most was just fifteen.

So there were really two babes,

At that early manger scene.


The inn where they sought shelter,

At least as we have been told,

Was a bunch of empty stalls,

Uncomfortable damp and cold


But even this stark shelter,

Denied to Jesus' mother,

All filled with early travelers,

They'd have to seek some other.


With no way to phone ahead

And certainly late at night.

All the inns already filled,

Irregardless of their plight.


A donkey, her limousine,

On the day that she gave birth,

No beds with sheets and blankets,

With just straw to cover earth.


They finally found shelter,

Some say just a cold dank cave,

A place for feeding cattle,

And with rats and mice to brave.


Some think the birth was easy,

For God could have made it so,

And given an advantage,

That others would never know.


We know she had no doctor

And probably no midwife.

Had Joseph birthed a baby?

Never once in his whole life.


So now you get the picture,

It was not a pretty sight.

Our savior born in the dark,

They had no electric light.


When at last the baby came,

Little time to count his toes.

He was cleaned as best they could

And then wrapped in swaddling clothes.


No friends there to gather 'round,

No one to send her flowers,

No parents to show her love

Of course no baby showers.


He wore no paper diapers,

As a modern baby would.

No way to wash his clothing,

So he didn't smell so good.


The shepherds that gathered 'round,

Were for sure a smelly lot,

As they pushed close to Mary,

Just to see the tiny tot.


The wise men with their rich gifts,

Would not come 'til later years,

Mary had one special gift,

She had heard the angel’s cheers.


But she had no time for rest,

To sleep late or to relax.

They had to get up early,

To go pay their income tax.


So Jesus used to splendor,

That's unrivaled here on earth,

Was cast out in an instant,

To a very lowly birth.


When you see the manger scene,

That is spread beneath your tree,

Think about the sacrifice,

Jesus made for you and me.


Consider the Praying Mantis

by Wayne Edwards

Consider the praying mantis,
Seemingly a most loving bug.
Before she dines on her victim,
She gives it a most loving hug.

Then after hugging her victim,
Just before she eats off its face,
She folds her front appendages,
Then bowing her head, she says grace.

But the way that she treats her mate,
A marriage that’s doomed not to last,
Not even Mrs. Black Widow
Dispatches her husband so fast.

Then to consummate their marriage,
Using branch or twig for their bed,
She first embraces her husband
Then lovingly bites off his head.

Now husbands down through the ages
Have never known from whence it came;
But when their wives pounce upon them
They most all respond much the same.

Learned from the male praying mantis,
The thing he would like to have said,
“I know I don’t always please you
But you don’t have to bite off my head!”



by Wayne Edwards

If I could turn invisible,
So none of my friends could see me,
It would make them all get jealous
And they’d all try to be like me.

I wouldn’t have to do my chores,
‘Cause if Mom came to remind me,
I would just turn invisible,
So that she could never find me.

There are things I read on Google,
Things that really are a bummer;
I would have to take my clothes off
In cold winter or hot summer.

And I would have to keep real clean,
‘Cause dirty footprints leave a path.
And everybody could see me
Should I forget to take my bath!


Ruth is constantly after me about my grammar. She got a new program for her computer that doesn’t like my punctuation or my grammar. I try to explain that poets can take certain liberties with both but it’s difficult to argue with either a computer or a wife and win!

Someone even wrote to me from Australia, offering to help me with my punctuation. So far I have been able to resist all temptation to change my poetry in order to comply with the rules of the English language. My most ‘unfavorite’ rule is the one that says you can’t use a preposition to end a sentence with.

Winston Churchill must have felt the same way and I used a quote, attributed to him, as the basis for Grammar.


by Wayne Edwards

I would like to send, to those in charge,
A most important small petition.
From time to time, I would like to end
My sentence with a preposition.

In the words of Winston Churchill,
When he at last put down his foot,
“That’s one rule of the English language,
Up with which I will not put!”


At a recent workshop for authors, we were given fifteen minutes to craft a story using every word in a list of completely unrelated words provided by the instructor. I, of course, being the only poet in attendance, was expected by the others to write in rhyme.

The list of words made it a challenge for the ones who wrote in prose and doubly difficult for me to concoct a rhyming poem with good scansion. The list contained the following seven words; violin, wish, blackbird, maestro, saddened, ammunition and cobblestone. If you think that the poem you’re about to read is a little weird, you try to do better with this list of words, in just fifteen minutes. (Okay, so I had to use the title to get the one last word in.)

I Wish Blackbirds Would Just Shut-Up

by Wayne Edwards

A blackbird is the worst of singers,
In concerts he cannot join in.
He’s ridiculed at singing contests,
With his harsh voice he cannot win.

A maestro wished to help the bird
And purchased a violin for him.
The saddened blackbird soon found out,
Chance of success with it was slim.

A road of cobblestones nearby
Furnished him this intuition.
The rocks picked up along the road
Provided critics ammunition!

The one who pays most of the bills.

“Thou shalt not kill,” is way too vague
And right now it needs explaining.
That life does not begin ‘til BIRTH,
Should be every student’s training.

A woman’s choice always comes first.
Sometimes babies are a bother.
And every man that sows wild oats
Shouldn’t have to be a father.

You must rewrite the Sixth Commandment,
Give the feminists a gesture.
Thou shalt not kill except within
First, second, or third trimester.

Now Your rule about adultery,
We need to take a look at next,
Because those mighty words of Yours
I’m sure were taken out of text.

Dumb vows we spoke at weddings,
I’m sure You know we didn’t mean,
And You must exclude politicians
And the families of the Queen.

So just add a small disclaimer
So as to make it understood.
You can’t commit adultery
Except to make your karma good.

We can’t tolerate the next one.
The one that says we shouldn’t steal.
That really sounds a little vague
And makes me think that it’s not real.

Should a little creative work
On last year’s income tax return,
Be enough to make one worry,
That in Hell’s fire he’ll have to burn?

So give a little leeway, God.
Make a much better rule by far.
We’ll only steal from government,
Or people richer than we are.

Now, “You mustn’t bear false witness,”
Is your commandment number nine.
Bet you’d never run for office,
When you thought up that little line.

Politics are necessary,
They are what makes our country run.
One has to tell the rotten things
That his no good opponent’s done.

So we never bear false witness
Unless it’s just so we can win.
If it elects the man we want.
Then of course it won’t be a sin.

Number ten, “Thou shalt not covet,”
Is Your very last petition.
Now God, You’ve got to understand,
It’s just simple competition.

When You look down, You surely see,
That it is our only basis
To make someone’s wealth important
And to separate the races.

Our whole economic system
Would surely go from good to bad,
If nobody ever wanted
The things that other people had.

So one commandment we can’t fix.
But surely you will understand,
When we come knocking on Your gate,
Arriving in Your promised land.

Some know that you created us
And some still have their doubts it’s true,
But to be a modern father
There are some things You’ll have to do.

The word “command” is way too harsh,
One modern fathers have not used.

Because it hinders self-esteem
And makes your children feel abused.

Would make us feel so much better,
Because we wouldn’t be required
To follow each one to the letter.

Now we’ve made these dumb suggestions,
You know we made them all in jest.
We know You are our creator
And that You know for us what’s best.

And those who think you’re quick to change,
To meet their ever changing whim,
Make the promise of salvation
So difficult for folks like them.


Next Page>


HOME page>                  NEW STUFF page> 
          WRITING CONTENT page>       GUEST ARTISTS page>Home_1.htmlNew_Stuff.htmlEssays.htmlGuest_Artists.htmlshapeimage_1_link_0shapeimage_1_link_1shapeimage_1_link_2shapeimage_1_link_3