His Nose
The nose he wears sits on his head
It's big and round and very red;
And in the dark it always glows
It must be awful to own that nose.
There's two dark holes filled with hair
With whatever else that's hidden there;
Each time I see with great surprise
That glow that sits between his eyes.
It shines as though when night meets day
There never could be another way;
I wonder too if he can tell
If red affects his sense of smell.
Perhaps the problem is I think
He's had in time too much to drink;
I suggested then to paint it white
And he seemed to think this was alright.
For Frank Herrera's Zaniest Poetry Contest
Elizabeth Wesley
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