The Poetry of Wayne Edwards
Why Aren’t There Monsters in the Zoo? And Dragons, Too?
Why aren’t there dragons in the zoo?
I’ve read stories I know are true.
I asked the man cleaning a stall,
He said the knights had slain them all.
Why aren’t there monsters in the zoo?
I know where there are at least two.
They’d like the zoo, I know, instead
Of living underneath my bed!
WE
As I lay watching stars last night
I got a funny feeling,
Had monsters come into my room
And gobbled up my ceiling?
WE
I took another trip last night,
Across a dark and scary sea.
It was such a fearful journey
For one so very young as me.
From my boat, so small and leaky,
I could hear sea monsters grumble.
There were lightning strikes and thunder
And I feared my boat would crumble.
Then I heard the pirates coming,
As they started to give chase.
Their cannons echoed loud as thunder,
No way that I could win this race.
I could hear the lions and tigers
Waiting there on yonder shore.
I always have such stupid dreams
When Mom and Daddy start to snore!
WE
Some nights I sail the seven seas
Where pirates chase and monsters roar.
When I awake, I know the noise
Was nothing more than Daddy’s snore.
Some nights I crash upon a rock
And feel the sea creep towards my head.
Those dreams are ones I hate the most
Because it means I wet my bed!
WE
I’m Not Scared
I’m not afraid of vampires.
You can’t scare me with a ghost!
And if monsters bother me
I’ll just turn them all to toast.
I’m not afraid of bullies
Nor am I afraid of trolls.
I’m not afraid of big boys,
Not even ten-year-olds.
But after school tomorrow,
If you should find you miss me,
I’ll be hiding from the red-haired girl.
She said she’s going to kiss me!
WE
Swiss Army Knife
Is Switzerland so peaceful
That she’s never gone to war?
Or is there not a thing
She thinks worth fighting for?
I think that if the truth were known
They couldn’t fight to save their lives.
If all their army has for weapons
Are those funny little knives.
WE
Letter
Dear Pa, Ma, and Granny,
I guess you know
I just ain’t too much for letter writin’.
The recrutin’ officer promised me
That I’d get to do some real good fightin’.
But so far I’ve been about as restless
As a caterpillar in a beehive.
All we do around here is eat and sleep.
Of a mornin’, we don’t get up ’til five.
The breakfast you get here is kinda light,
At first the food was kinda hard to take.
All we get are eggs, cornflakes and bacon,
We never get any pork chops or steak.
After breakfast we go on a forced march
About as far as our mailbox and back.
We carry all kinds of things we don’t need,
In what the sergeant says is a backpack.
We never walk if it’s a little hot
Or when the sergeant says it’s bad weather.
The pack only weighs about eighty pounds,
About like tottin’ a turkey feather.
We finally got to do some fightin’
But here everybody calls it Judo.
Ain’t no match for good old mountain brawlin’!
Don’t hurt anyone? Well they shoulda said so!
They came at me with great big hoe handles.
There were two of them big instructor guys,
As soon as they both get back on their feet
I guess I should go and apologize.
They give out medals here just for shootin’,
So far it looks like they gave me the most.
You shoot at cardboard things that don’t shoot back
So there’s really no cause for one to boast.
I sure miss Ma’s and Granny’s home cooking.
They never have possum and taters or squirrel.
I’m beginning to think the US Army
Just isn’t no place for a mountain girl!
WE
She Doesn’t Care!
When we get ready to go out,
I ask my wife, “What should I wear?”
She yells from her walk-in closet,
The same thing that she always says,
That she really doesn’t care.
So I grab my favorite shirt,
My wife describes as greenish khaki.
Just then she yells back,
“Not that stupid green shirt
It always makes you look so tacky.”
The next shirt that I pick,
I hurriedly put back.
When she yells out from her domain,
“Don’t wear that shirt you wore last night.
Navy blues don’t go with black!”
That a man’s wife can read his mind
I’ve begun to think is true,
When she yells, “Not that western shirt!
The dress that I’m wearing clashes
With that particular shade of blue.”
I grab the last shirt in my closet
As she complains how long I took.
She says, as we go out the door,
“Who says a man can’t dress himself,
You see how nice you look?”
WE
Why the Possum Grins
Now Raccoon said to the possum,
Under a harvest moon.
“The grapes are ripe
So let’s not gripe
We’ll fill our stomachs soon.”
The two friends ate a lot of grapes
But Raccoon ate too fast.
With tempers short,
And not too smart,
Each fought to eat the last.
But coonhounds baying on their trail
Brought terror to their ears.
Hounds tough to beat,
With flying feet;
Angers replaced by fears.
Raccoon told possum, “Let’s run fast,
We’ll head down to the pond.”
But Possum said
“I’ll soon be dead!”
He knew when he’d been conned.
Raccoon was faster on the ground
And he could swim as well.
But possum knew
A thing or two
As they ran down the trail.
Now coon hounds were a special breed;
They hunted most by scent;
But not too bright.
With game in sight,
They all rush off hell-bent.
Now Possum did what possums do
And played dead by the trail;
Without a twitch,
Laid in the ditch
As hounds ran by pell-mell…
While raccoon made it to the pond
And quickly jumped right in.
The grapes he ate
Were added weight
And that’s why possums grin.
WE
Consider the ‘Possum
Consider the ‘possum,
About whom much is said.
When life gets too tedious,
Mrs. ‘Possum plays dead.
She carries her children
All around, in her pouch.
When they kick and they fight,
It has got to be OUCH!
But when climbing in trees,
And her four feet all fail,
And most others would fall,
She hangs on by her tail.
Some people say flower,
The cultured say blossom.
It’s that kind of people
That calls her opossum.
This marsupial’s been here
A lot longer than most.
She’ll probably be here
After we are all toast.
But back to our ‘possum,
There is one well-known fact,
When she’s in character,
Nothing breaks up her act.
You can tease and kick her,
Even toss her around.
You can cover her up
In a hole in the ground.
Even though her chances
Of escaping are few,
She’s still smug in the fact
That she’s fooled me and you.
WE
