Supposedly we all have demons And boy do I wish this were true I’d have these demons do my chores And all my homework too

I let the cat out To explore the yard It scratched at the fence But the fence was to hard It laid about then swallowed

There was a man With the largest of eyes They said he could see For miles wide A job as a lookout

He gathered up used paper A broken mug and coffee pot A cracked plate, a crooked rake And a tomato that begun to rot He gathered these things thinking

A poem’s a poem If it ends in a rhyme A poet’s a poet If he writes in spare time A poet grows famous

This poems the worst Nothing like the first My ideas are scattered about And the pages run out I’ve got better things to do

He moved so very quietly Peeking through the blades of gras… Of the tribe of lion hunters He was the very last He leapt from the bushes

You can hide it in make up But I know it’s still there A face designed Only to scare You can try to distract me

He was the greatest gladiator That came from a distant land He never had to pick up a sword All he threw was sand He knew what he was doing

Tippy Tom liked to drink Tippy Tom would raise a stink Tippy Tom would stumble out Tippy Tom would walk about Tippy Toms gone missing

There once was a kid who balanced… on roofs, wires, and rocks he decided to raise the risks in a… where he would balance on top of a crock

I once was a wolf I followed a pack I grew out my hair Till it covered my back I howled to the moon