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by Wayne Edwards

My supermarket says people
Will be encouraged to buy more,
If there is a matching odor
For all the things sold in their store.

Fresh roasting ears are quick to sell
When customers smell buttered corn,
And vegetables are misted with
The smell of rain on a spring morn.

When walking by the fresh farm eggs
All your senses will awaken,
And your mouth will start to water
To the smell of eggs and bacon.

You’d think shopping would be pleasant
With all those odors in the air,
But I am sure you’ll understand
I don’t buy toilet paper there! 


A Cup of Water

by Wayne Edwards

Clematus was a backwoods’ boy,
He was back woodsy as they get.
I watched his youthful eyes grow wide
When first he saw a TV set.

He was running through the hotel
Where each new wonder brought him glee.
Then he brought a cup of water
And, happily, handed it to me.

I drank it to make him happy
Although its taste was far from fair.
He asked if he could bring some more
For all the others standing there.

But he came back with empty hands,
Without the cups he was to bring.
“I can’t get any more,” he said,
“A man is sitting on the spring!”


Gourd Dipper

by Wayne Edwards

She grinned as she stood watching me,
A wrinkled crooked toothless grin.
Tobacco juice in rivulets
Ran through the whiskers on her chin.

She’d filled the old gourd dipper full,
Good spring water, fresh, clear and cold.
To drink from her offered dipper –
Was I foolish to be so bold?

She looked at me with rheumy eyes.
Muff’ling her constant hacking cough
Had badly stained the once white rag,
She used to wipe the gourd rim off.

My thirst was great but could I drink
From any place those lips had been?
Just the thought had turned my stomach
But to refuse would seem a sin.

That’s when I noticed that the gourd
Had a handle that was hollow,
So I sucked the water through it.
As I was about to swallow,

She exclaimed, “Isn’t that too strange?
Something I thought I’d never see.
Someone else drinks through the handle
Just the very same way as me!”



by Wayne Edwards

Here we go again, I just can’t leave those golfers alone. Once again, I got the idea in our Sunday School class. Someone passed around a joke about a pastor who couldn’t tell anyone about his hole-in-one because he was playing hooky from his church at the time.

Only another golfer can imagine his Frustration at not being able to mention his much superior hole-in-one when listening to his golfing buddies brag about theirs. Do you think God ever let him make another one?

He got up early Sunday, so that he could pray.
He knelt down by the window, it was such a pretty day.
The game he’d planned for Saturday was canceled by the rain.
The same had happened last weekend, the weather was a pain.

He knew that it was Sunday, with church he couldn’t miss,
But surely it was God, who made a day like this.
As he began to pray, he could hear the golf greens call.
He wished he’d never seen a golf club or a ball.

Once more he tried to pray; he could hear the church bells ring.
But then he thought of ways he could improve his swing.
If he missed Sunday service, would it be such a crime?
After all his associate pastor should preach from time to time.

And then he thought, “I’ll lay a fleece, like Gideon did that day,
Then I can see for sure if God wants me to play.
If I can get a tee time, as late a time as this,
Then I know that he’ll forgive me for the service that I miss.”

“I’ll call for reservations on a course that’s far from here.
No one will recognize me, like they would if I played near.”
So he grabbed his little cell phone right then and made a call,
But they were fully booked, they had no room at all.

He thought, “Now God, play fair, you can’t do this to me,
Just let me try again, the best two out of three.”
The next course that he called, he almost dropped his phone,
They said they had one opening and would he be alone?

He had to call his office and say that he was sick,
So what about his conscience? Well he’d give it a kick.
He made the fateful phone call, with a voice that he made hoarse,
Then he loaded up his clubs and started for the course.

As he drove the crowded roads, he could hear an inner voice,
But he would just ignore it, for he had made his choice.
The course was such a beauty, he’d not played there before.
Not a soul would know him, who could ask for something more?

So he set his ball to tee and he took a practice swing.
His guardian angel ducked or he’d have lost a wing.
Well the angel was unhappy, and he went to see his boss.
“We must teach him a lesson but, Dear God, I’m at a loss.”

Then God said, “Don’t you worry, I know just what to do,
So watch just how I handle it, you’ll learn a thing or two.”
The preacher hit the ball and knocked it so high up,
It went four hundred yards and fell right in the cup.

The angel said to God, “Just look what you have done,
How can this be punishment? He got a hole in one!”

But God said, “Don t you see? That’s any golfer’s hell,
This hole in one’s his first, now just who can he tell?”


by Wayne Edwards

I was training my dog
While in town yesterday;
I was trying to teach him
The meaning of stay.

I parked at a store
In my new SUV;
Then my dog in training
Tried to go in with me.

I wouldn’t be long
And the weather was cool,
But I knew my dog thought
I was just being cruel.

I turned and I pointed
As I walked towards the store,
And repeatedly said, “STAY,”
As I’d taught him before.

You couldn’t see Fido;
All my windows were dark.
A passer-by commented
“I just put mine in PARK?”


The Poetry of Wayne Edwards