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Late at night I’d sprout some hair
and my nose would start to twitch,
My teeth grew long but I didn’t care
as I looked forward to the switch.
I traveled about in the night
by the light of a full born moon,
It was enough for me to gain my sight
and I wanted it to happen soon.
I would let my wild side out
even if only for short spurts,
Today it causes my dear wife to pout
when I tear up my sport shirts.
Most of the time I’m just a guy
watching ballgames on TV,
Sometimes though don’t ask me why
my inner werewolf gets set free.
No one messed with me when I’d howl
up to the glorious moon at night
Now they look at me with a scowl
even while in my line of sight.
If they only knew that if I wanted
their bones would split and snap,
But it’s been a while since I last hunted
and I’d rather take a nap.
Middle age hits a werewolf hard,
And I no longer seem to care.
Because I feel like a ton of lard,
And I’m forever sprouting hair.
And there’s no need to hunt fresh meat,
When there’s a barbeque right outside.
And crunching bones is no big treat,
I prefer potatoes crunchy fried.
My wife can turn me to jelly,
And she never makes me beg.
She rolls me over and scratches my belly,
And makes me shake my leg.
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--Submitted by lanet on 2011-07-31.
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lanet:
Thank you for your words.
Posted 08/01/2011 05:34 AM
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mesilverman:
very clever, nice human touches about ballgames and shirts, but I wonder what this poem would look like without rhyme. The one word rhymes hamper this poem and make it sing-songy. Removing them will help get you to make this situation more realistic without being tied down to the rhymes and the abstractions that hurt this poem.
Posted 07/31/2011 09:11 AM
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