Bad Puns for Great Poets

You ran me through

With pointed Shakespeare

Warmed my heart

With a Frost

Intrigued me with all of your

Cummings and goings

Enriching me by endowing

Your Poe words

‘Twas on the road less traveled

I perceived an odd Plath

An Angelou spoke to me

As I stood Emmerson in Wilde thought

Sun’s piercing rays caused Burns

Browning me to various Hughes

Although I could not Barrett

Wild, Wild Hair Song

I got a wild, wild hair

growin’ free without a care

when I woke up with it this morning

it was growing down to there

now I don’t want a razor

I really dig it, I swear

step back my friend

let me enjoy

this wild, wild hair

I got a wild, wild hair

flapping in the breeze

just wait another day

and I’ll be swinging from the trees

some people may not like it

but I don’t really care

‘cause I am gonna wear and bare

this wild, wild hair

I got a wild, wild hair

what is happening to me

I want to be free

from responsibility

let the people gawk

let ‘em whisper and stare

‘cause they are only jealous

of my wild hair’s flair

Yes, I got a wild hair
but I can not sing the blues
I'm enjoying dancing barefoot
now I can not find my shoes
let's stay awake 'til sun-up
karaoke if you dare
temporary insanity
'cause I got a wild hair 

I got a wild, wild hair

flapping in the breeze

just wait another day

and I’ll be swinging from the trees

some people may not like it

but I don’t really care

‘cause I am gonna wear and bare

this wild, wild hair

I love – I love - I love

my wild, wild hair

Fine Line

unguarded negativity
easily stifles
awakening creativity

such a fine line
betwixt a blessing
and a curse

contorting one word
twists the meaning

of a verse

I won’t quench the fire
in this belly exercising
frustrated-angry-hate
but I rather seek to be inflamed
by a passion for life innate

oh, the fire in this belly
I comprehend not how it grows
I know not where it came from
nor do I fathom where it goes

yet I discern that it is here
present my whole life long
for I was birthed with a poet’s soul
the fire's gift is its warming flame
such heat has made me strong

To Love-Hate Haiku

I love-hate Haiku

Ornery syllables taunt

Seventeen devils

Herding wayward cats

Greased pig wrangling, easier

Cranky words defy

Compliance refused

Stubborn louts, giggling imps

They rule here, not I

Doctors of Nada

I did so dearly want to study the words

But science was “where the money lived”

So I diligently memorized

Method scientific

Mastered the mean, median and mode

Completing the curriculum

While living as pauper

At last, I turned the tassle on my cap

So that it would hang over my heart

Then I turned on my heel and left

To a life filled with

Scratching, clawing, climbing a

Corporate ladder made slippery

By the slime of all the slugs and eels

That had slithered upward before me

I gripped, I fought, reaching for the upper rungs (and hung and hung)

On for dear life

Now after eons

I’ve returned to the hallowed halls of learning

Ivy covered brick walls

Musty mausoleums for the living

Where dust and ideas lie idle on the floor

Waiting for the janitor to come sweep them away

Others who profess treat me with disdain

As the undereducated, unimportant impostor

Without a degree of the proper elevation

Those whose divine right is

Self proclaimed

Academia’s royal line

Doctors of nada, zip, zilch

Snobby snots

Bookish robots

Do not possess

Original thoughts

I loathe their hubristic vanity

As I wrestle with the words beloved

(Which usually pin me to the mat)

God’s gift to me of a poet’s soul

Has saved my very sanity

A Poem - Like a Prayer

A poem

Like a prayer

Soul’s whispered utterance

Often guttural; sometimes fair

Transcends reality

Rescues me - from despair

A verse
Like a balm
Soothes troubled spirit with rest and calm
Reminds measureless humanity has trod
Same arduous path of life
Resolutely - forward plod

Finding My Voice

At the gathering of rhymers - where first I did recite

Were other poets more worthy-polished; oh, so erudite

Metaphorically in pinafore-pigtails; I rattled-shook with fright

Standing meekly solo at center stage - in blinding beacon’s light

That day I did unveil my soul; its nakedness to expose

For I was still a tender babe in art of verse and prose

Much like the turkey carved - for Holiday's buffet

Fat, skin, gristle gone – the superfluous cut away

Leaving only the meat of me hanging from the bone

As I poured out my essence there; so profoundly alone
Laid bare as I was – ever fearful of rejection

I expected no less than my merciless dissection

For a rhyming verse of faux face - I knew I had not shown

But truest reflection of inner heart; which was my very own

As years progress, as I mature - my poet’s voice grows strong

Still, some days my voice will squeak or l get the meter wrong

I boldly now do add my cry to the turbulent, cacophonous song

Of poets, writers, rhymers, dreamers – noisy, wondrous throng!

The Nature of Words

 

Squiggly, wriggly, higgledy-piggledy; words across the paper fly

Jiggle-y, giggle-y, fickle-y, wiggle-y; I don’t know the reason why

The words, the words, they never rest

From buzzing round my head and breast

Once they’ve hatched they will not nest

Nor let me slumber there

Words zip ‘round my head like flies

Nipping if I fail to rise

To give them life

Or fix their wings

They are the most contrary things

Rhyming and rhythm created a schism

Between the pillow and my head

Dreams full of meter

A penny per liter

Please drive these torturers from my bed

Squiggly, wriggly, higgledy-piggledy; words across the paper fly

Jiggle-y, giggle-y, fickle-y, wiggle-y; I won’t rest freely ‘til I die