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Best Poems Written by Wayland Bunch

Below are the all-time best Wayland Bunch poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Wayland Bunch Poem

Humorous Tribute To Three Soupers

Jack the Quatrain King a possible moniker 
When it comes to quatrains, he’s an astonisher
With humor and wit he deliver’s his world view
Unfortunately now, he’s part of a silly clerihew 


Linda or A Poet Destroyer
I didn’t know poetry had Warriors 
I read some poems and she loved to fight 
I would just read and think, that aint right


Seren Roberts, a welsh girl, yes she proudly is
Call her English and you prolly won’t here gee whiz
A poet and an artist I know this much is true
But did she write a poem talking about fox poo?


This is all in good humor towards three of my favorite poets here. Hopefully no one gets offended and if they do I’ll be happy to remove this.

Details | Wayland Bunch Poem

Has It Been a Year Already-I Added a Few More

As thephilosopher  readies for his p soup anniversary 
Remembering he found this place last Christmas Day
Surely the best gift he did receive
Now for some holiday fun, DON”T LEAVE

Denise Narayadu I can't end the line with her name
To mispronounce it with a bad rhyme would be a shame
Her writing has very much intrigued me
In her poems often it's myself that I see

Of Anne Lise Andressen what can I toast
She's in a contest of which Debbi G is the host
Of who Santa Clause is her knowledge has a lack
If she asked I could easily have told her it's Jack

I mean look at Jack, white beard, hair a jolly feller
If my put my original line here, I'd be locked in a cellar
Any American could mistake Canada for the north pole
It's cold, I've never been there and at times there's a lot of snow

Jack Ellison in his Santa role this time of year
Oh from the straight and narrow often does he veer
Constant approval from the p soup ladies, I know he smiles
If I was Santa his naughty list would stretch for miles

Andrea D secretly a hater of the Villanelle
That’s atrocious what’s my basis you say
She hosted a contest and a thousand forms she will allow
BUT a max of 12 lines leaves me saying CHINGADO

PD, the SWEETEST poet destroyer she told me
A philosopher asks how sweet a destroyer can be
The poet in me reads her work with much confusion
The imagery addicting but my understanding a delusion

Becca Lucas the girl who lost her muse
If she had schizophrenia she may have several to lose
However several other problems this would pose
If one of them was mean I may be a victim of her prose

FJ Thomas gave me the wonderful gift of the Fibonacci
She might deserve a song but my muse isn’t Liberace
She wrote the Art of Being Broken, a deep piece but not long
Did some guy really leave a comment quoting a poison song
 
And finally I will close with Richard Lamoureux
If you haven’t seen his clerihew read it TODAY
Quiet humorous, he pokes fun with affection
His first clerihew was a work of perfection

Yes on a few new names Wayland did call
Unfortunately he still hasn’t got to them all
Some he intentionally won’t mention
It’s Christmas Eve and he seeks no dissention

Details | Wayland Bunch Poem

Harmony Through Love

We haven’t been formally acquainted 
Though your words now travel in me
A picture of harmony you’ve painted
Love truest, in the very highest degree

Trouble in the midst, but don’t stress
Look into the windows of the soul
Therein you’ll find your happiness
Where two parts become a whole

Partake of this newfound pleasure
Two rivers now flowing into one
The joy contained has no measure
Warmth radiating like rays of sun

On this road of destiny or now call it fate
To encounter true love, it’s never too late



Based on In Deepened Harmony by Nette Onclaud

I do not know you, but your friends desire you back. You must truly be a light and inspiration to them.

Details | Wayland Bunch Poem

When I Ruled the World

I remember when I held the world in these hands
Nothing out of reach as I self proclaimed my power
That time long forgotten the hourglass lost it’s sand

Yes I lived in a world of deadlines and demands
  A master of time, always early at least half an hour
I remember when I held the world in these hands

Always alert sensing my victory before my stand
Any obstacle or objection I would quickly devour
That time long forgotten the hourglass lost it’s sand

Is there anything left of that person, maybe a strand
It’s not from any fear, but indifference that I cower
I remember when I held the world in these hands

For this tragic change I could have never planned
Everything that tasted so sweet is now bitter and sour
That time long forgotten the hourglass lost it’s sand

Almost six years later, I still cannot understand
In the late hours of night, I’m left to now scour
I remember when I held the world in these hands
That time long forgotten the hourglass lost it’s sand



Penned by Wayland Bunch II 12/14/2013 for With These Hands contest
I used image #6 for this poem

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Measure For Measure

Measure for measure, even more, but it was never enough
Still I look back with feelings of guilt even  remorse
A sad end to our trip I never knew it would be so rough

I still think we always had what it takes, the right stuff
But we went our separate ways and have stayed the course
Measure for measure, even more, but it was never enough

I guess you never expected me to call your final bluff
I could not know you would react with such force
A sad end to our trip I never knew it would be so rough

I was destroyed a person always considering myself tough
A hard lived life taking me to new lows even a divorce
Measure for measure, even more, but it was never enough

We were left damaged my demeanor now always gruff
Not so easy to get back up when you fall of this horse
A sad end to our trip I never knew it would be so rough

Memories of the past often cause me to huff and puff
I look for someone to blame, but I am the only source
Measure for measure, even more, but it was never enough
A sad end to our trip I never knew it would be so rough

Details | Wayland Bunch Poem

Greener Pastures

Fleeing into dark night, I run
A truth not wholly accepted
A promise breaking as I write
One story ends, one rejected

I question my decisions now
Fleeing into dark night, I run
Rejection sets me on my way
As to wishes I did have one

The broken mirror reflects all
A dream remaining but no time
Fleeing into dark night,  I run
Only one madness to my rhyme

I run far, always looking back
No hope remains under the sun
Great sentiment jolted off track
Fleeing into dark night, I run

Details | Wayland Bunch Poem

The Artist

Oh DARK artist 
What a beautiful picture you create
Not with hues, pigments, and light
But with tone, imagery, and night
The soul an awaiting canvas
Your pen the finest brush
With reckless abandon you work
Is the masterpiece entitled Suffering
Images of sacrifice, torture, and insanity
A downward spiral of regret in the midst
Ah but when did doom ever seem so sweet
So many beautiful extenuating means
Surely they will justify any end
Your tale like sorcery captivates
You carry the title of Ciarraighe
From the dark rain filled lands
The darkness extends to your inner being 
Rain now covering the pictures you paint
Pours forth from within
With each toile of tribulation
Resonating beauty resides
Will the beauty outlive the pain
Unfortunately the canvas cannot answer

Details | Wayland Bunch Poem

4 In Less Than Forty

1 

Have to be somewhere in 40 mins
Enough time to write at least one
Fortunately I’m not using and pens
Else I would not be close to done

Of course you see the form I write
One familiar yet still complicated
It should be easy I write every night
Why my poems are often post dated

Halfway there only three minutes gone
Can I write eleven of these in my time
Maybe but could I post them all as well
Not sure, but I wouldn’t even bet a dime

The last I didn’t rhyme of first and third
I will admit I normally will rhyme abab
But in my amount of time that’s absurd
I am trying to finish quickly as you see

                             2

I already finished one how about another
The next line already in my head of course
Now you are probably saying o brother
This guy is a distinct body member of a horse

Really it’s just practice and having a bit of fun
I am definitely bored at this very early hour
I’m also texting a friend here and think of pun
I’d tell her what I think, but she might be sour

The last of course was purely a joke my friend
No evil thoughts currently in my head Miss PD
I at present, do not have that emotion to lend
Or maybe it was serious the last stanza hehehe

This is so much fun, a great way to pass time
You should try it, if you would possibly dare
I have said time a million times in my rhyme
Take time reading them, go ahead and stare

Details | Wayland Bunch Poem

Rest Easy My Friend

Rest my friend truly you deserve some peace 
Life sometimes hard but you always did maintain 
Your friends carry a memory of  you that  won't cease

A peculiar fellow quickly your anger could increase
How adamantly you would continue  to explain
Rest my friend you deserve to get some peace

Your passion for life could never decrease
Even after suffering so much agony and pain 
Your friends carry a memory ofyou  that won't cease 

From every lecture I could take away a piece 
Always knowing there was something to gain
Rest my friend trulyyou deserve some peace

I continue on now still searching for my crease
We have a friendship that death cannot contain
Yes I'll carry a memory of you that won't cease

Truly our friendship never faltered in the least 
Even now I can still hear you complain and complain
Rest now my friend truly you deserve some peace 
Your friends carry a memory of you that won't cease 


R. I. P.  ARTHUR GLOVER

Details | Wayland Bunch Poem

First Signs of Love

What is this feeling that resides in me
I’ve felt it before, but not quiet the same
Was I stung by the sweetest honey bee

When did Cupid pass that I did not see
Certainly in this matter I have no shame
What is this feeling that resides in me

A nervousness I feel, coupled with glee
I am smiling a lot, but am not to blame
Was I stung by the sweetest honey bee

The experience makes me feel very free
But this moth has not eluded the flame
What is this feeling that resides in me

Something tells me, that I must decree
Inside there’s a wildness I can’t tame
Was I stung by the sweetest honey bee
 
I’ve felt some joy, but not of this degree
It must be real, yet it feels like a game
What is this feeling that resides in me
Was I stung by the sweetest honey bee


Written by Wayland Bunch on 1/31/2013 for Valentine contest.