In a Poem

You can hear a lot of funny things in a poem.

Take this one, with its doorbell and its phone.

Its neighbor holds a machine gun from Al Capone,

shoots phonemes that bark like dogies. See how they roam!

(The “o” in this one functions like a drone.)

You can pick up some novel doodads in a poem:

a curse word spit on the floor by language’s crone,

old cognates that their prefixes have flown,

or letters undelivered by Guildenstern’s clone.

You can fit yourself out quite nicely in a poem –

you, your modes, the manners to which you’re prone.

Your jester will find his dunce cap, your king his throne,

as they listen to its gadgets sound and intone:

RING RING! Ding dong! Is there anyone home?

So many funny things you can do in a poem!