Wry Poems - Poems about Wry

Apophasis is such a cool word. Not to mention how it sounds like a popping fist and fireworks, though I wouldn’t dare suggest I’ve ever blown things up just for grins and giggles. It’s cousin to praeteritio, kissing cousin to paralepsis— all of them cool sounding words, not to mention parasiopesis which leaves the juiciest bits unsaid— but don’t get me started on this. Of course,...

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In the dusk of night, My heart that yearns for joy and light, In the hope of my Prince Charming, my Knight. Twilight’s foreseen, The unknown heartbreaks my heart has seen, In the hope of true love, one of a kind and never been. Has there been any better joy, Than having your last bit go wry, Yet all alone with no room...

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Her answer was sarcastically wry The look she gave out made me cry Something so simple, went so wrong I started to toot my own horn Her eyes rolling made me sigh ...

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My heart is a charcoal gray With silver specks in the sun Tomorrow is New Year's Day And this old year, my dear, is done A bit of moss on the north knoll The hills of my heart burrowed through And I'm cramming hope in the holes Just like the woodpeckers do....

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Musta woke with feelings of dread; I bet that he thought he was dead. Upon its unmasking, The question I’m asking: ’Twas the ghost of white or wheat bread? ---------- H/T to The Ghost II by Daisy Ward...

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The man was strong The man was bold Didn't listen to the rest unfold He took in his culture, pride He wore his kilt, with pride Did it make him less of a man? Sigh. Did it make a lass of the man? Wry. Forgo these ancient thoughts That make the thinker less of a human Drought over their eyes To see a proud...

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spry within the shadows you come wry amidst the darkness you haunt i care not what it is you want why is it my soul you still taunt? do not taint my mind with your past you have no power over me spew your wretched words upon death strew yourself in its lifeless sea i'm bloodless of inked memories chime of childhood pain has...

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So I drove the van down a walking trail, and slid into a ditch. The Officers with voices hale Began the walkers to regale With "Oh, no, he won't go to jail!" My van was tilt at such a pitch, We had to call a wrecker in! No doubt they thought it quite a stitch To think that I had scratched an itch And...

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