The Poetry of Wayne Edwards The Poetry of Wayne Edwards
The Poetry of Wayne Edwards
WE
Putting On the Dog
All of my wife’s friends
Have brand new fur coats,
The beautiful ladies
And the two old goats.
She asked me to buy
A new coat for her,
But I couldn’t afford
The expense of a fur.
And then if by chance,
Or maybe by luck,
I hit a huge dog
With my pickup truck!
I thought this must be
Some kind of a sign!
The poor dog was dead
But its hide was all mine.
I borrowed a friend’s book
And I learned how to do it,
I made her a fur coat
There was nothing to it.
Now, “Putting on the dog”
Has a brand new meaning
And the fleas will be gone
After its first dry cleaning.
And now I can make her
A brand new fur hat.
While backing my truck up
I ran over her cat!
WE
Not For Sale
The farmer’s young wife, May Bell,
Nagged him daily as a rule.
She thought her husband lazy
And she hated his old mule.
May Bell took him lunch one day
And walked up beside the plow,
A bit closer to the mule,
Than good prudence would allow.
The sheriff said that the mule
Fatally kicked her in the head.
(Just in case you didn’t know,
“Fatally” means she was dead!)
At the wake the women told
How much they would miss May Bell.
While the men asked the farmer
If his mule would be for sale.
WE
Scarecrow
My corn was getting ripe,
The crows were mean and bold.
I would have no harvest,
Because of what they stole.
So I made a scarecrow,
It was such a fearsome sight.
While it was in my garden,
None dared go there at night.
It certainly scared the crows,
And gave them cause to fear.
They even brought corn back
They stole from me last year!
WE
Thanksgiving Dinner
Grandma thought turkey passé, I hear
And though it might sound a bit queer,
She served us all steaks
Made from rattlesnakes.
There’ll be lots of leftovers this year!
WE
Turkeylamb
Our pretty hen turkey named Sam
Fell in love with our neighbor’s old ram
Their offspring suspicious
Were really delicious
For Thanksgiving we had turkeylamb.
WE
Dead Voters
A shrewd politician named Fred,
Had supporters both living and dead.
Dead voting perfected,
Sure he’d get elected
But he got indicted instead!
WE
Fiancée
My family is really a mess,
I’ll be the first one to confess.
The fiancée I had
Got married to Dad
And now she’s my mom, more or less!
WE
Politician
An old politician named Glynn
Who thought telling truth a sin.
Told lies abundantly
Some lies redundantly
But still got elected again!
WE
Obedience School
I sent my dog to dog school
Because he wouldn’t obey.
I wanted them to teach him
How dogs are supposed to play.
They said that he’s doing well,
That he’s top dog in his class.
He hasn’t learned to obey
But he gets straight A’s in Sass.
He came home last night and said
That he’d learned to Frisbee catch.
When I asked him to show me
He threw the thing and yelled, “Fetch”!
Now he treats me like a dog..
To show how much I hate it,
I grabbed all of his homework.
And ran outside and ate it.
WE
Don’t get upset with me like Ruth did, at least not until you’ve read the reasoning behind Homecoming.
All too often we attempt to apply human values to God’s plan for mankind. We insignificant humans can no more comprehend the thoughts and mind of God, than can the pets in this poem comprehend the daily activities of their master. If we approach our concept of God with this fact in mind, we will see how wrong it is for us to demand answers to every one of Gods mysteries.
Someone once said that humans are as ants in the sight of God. I know that God loves us more than I love ants, but the comparison probably gives humans the benefit of the doubt. The whole point that I want to make, in “Homecoming,” is that it would be just as futile for God to try and explain His actions to us, as it would be for us to try to explain our actions to our pets.
Ruth’s poodle thinks that I am God and I’m not going to tell her any different.
Homecoming
Oh, our hearts are filled with joy
For our master’s coming soon.
It may be in the morning,
Tonight or today at noon.
He left us with a promise
That we all are sure is true.
His time and ours are different
But we know that he is due.
We’ll no longer need the sun
For our master brings the light.
Then the gate will be opened
With awe inspiring might.
All hunger will be banished,
We will feast there by his seat.
His voice the sound of music
As we worship at his feet.
Forgiven indiscretions
We in our youth committed,
With love he has forgotten
And we will be admitted.
With so much unmeasured love,
He’s prepared for us a place.
There’ll be joy we can’t control
When we gaze upon his face.
And now the master’s coming.
Hear his trumpet fill the air?
All worries are forgotten,
He’s erased our every care.
Harry’s wife says, “Must you honk
Every time we’ve been away?
It irritates the neighbors…
You should hear what they all say.”
“When you honk your horn like that,
Your dogs raise an awful din.
Hurry! Open up the door!
Let your stupid mutts come in!”
WE
New Year’s Resolution
He said he was going to count his blessings
And take responsibility for his actions.
His wife said, “You can’t count your blessings.
You never were too good at fractions.”
WE
My Calender
My calendar
Is no more good,
Said Miss Sally
Underwood.
I lent it to
Young Tommy Gates,
That silly kid
Ate all the dates.
January
He ate at noon,
And burped quite loud
When he ate June.
February
What a treat.
Its taste, he said,
Could not be beat.
March and August,
Made him sick
Because he ate
them much too quick.
I told the truth,
I could not lie
I told him where
I hid July.
Tommy gobbled
Up November.
Then, I watched him
Eat December.
April and May,
September too.
I thought at last
That he was through.
But October
He’d not yet hurt.
I guess he’d saved
It for dessert.
WE
enough
