Today's poems [10.1.09]

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Someone in Winslow, Maine didn't like Mr. Wood:

In Memory of Beza Wood
Departed this life
Nov. 2, 1837
Aged 45 yrs.
Here lies one Wood
Enclosed in wood
One Wood
Within another.
The outer wood
Is very good:
We cannot praise
The other.

A phenomenal fellow named Preston 
               Has a hair-padded lower intestine. 
                    Though exceedingly fine 
                    In the buggery line, 
               It isn't much good for digestin'. 

My face in the mirror
                isn't wrinkled or drawn;
        My house isn't dirty,
                the cobwebs are gone.
        My garden looks lovely,
                and so does my lawn;
        I think I might never
                put my glasses back on!

There was a young lady named Rose
With erogenous zones in her toes.
        She remained onanistic
        Till a foot-fetishistic
Young man became one of her beaux.

               My wife Myrtle's womb has a habit 
               Of expanding whenever I stab it. 
                    What's more, my wife Myrtle 
                    Is so wonderously fertile, 
               That she's giving me kids like a rabbit. 

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