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Thomas Wiener Poem
What is the meaning of this text?
You sent it last night after I'd gone to bed.
I read it this morning and now feel vexed
About when you sent it and what it said.
It would seem that you are breaking up with me,
Two months and three weeks after our first date.
You spun it as though you were setting me "free,"
Helping me avoid some unpleasant fate.
But I know that you know this is a lie,
I'd like to continue what we had begun.
It's you who wants to end it, but won't say why,
Did you meet someone else who was a bit more fun?
I'm left with questions, and you're nowhere near,
A coward's way to break up, it's abundantly clear.
Copyright © Thomas Wiener | Year Posted 2023
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Thomas Wiener Poem
There was once a penguin who thought
That religion and morals were naught,
As he swam in cold water
He thought, "Boy, I oughta...
Do something, but I don't know what.”
Copyright © Thomas Wiener | Year Posted 2023
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Thomas Wiener Poem
In ancient times, scholars did not agree,
On the order in which the gospels were written, you see?
Augustine thought it was Matthew, Mark, Luke and then John,
And his belief was widely accepted until Griesbach came along.
"Mark copied from Matthew and Luke," he more or less said,
But later scholars argued that Mark was the one who led.
Soon others posited the existence of someone called "Q,"
For it seemed there wasn't just one source, but two.
But this two-source theory would be challenged as well,
Did Q ever exist? They just couldn't tell.
A few scholars even applied a statistical technique,
But if a consensus exists, it remains rather weak.
Copyright © Thomas Wiener | Year Posted 2024
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Thomas Wiener Poem
Seven red birds flew across the blue sky,
But only five arrived at their destination.
Two had broken off from the flock, buy why?
The green meadow on which the five landed
Was filled with daisies, orange to the eye.
So for several days they remained in celebration.
At 11 o'clock the next day, they departed
As the bright yellow sun burned overhead.
For 13 hours they flew through skies uncharted,
Until three of them dropped from exhaustion.
The rest then returned to where they started,
Purple with rage that their friends were dead.
Copyright © Thomas Wiener | Year Posted 2024
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Thomas Wiener Poem
Poor Hello Kitty
Rests on a stoop
Her eyes droop
Bird poop
Now goop
In her hair
People, beware
Of birds in the air!
Copyright © Thomas Wiener | Year Posted 2025
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Thomas Wiener Poem
If 9 were 6 and 6 were 9,
Everything would be just fine.
Ballgames wouldn't take quite so long,
Fewer clouds needed for a feeling so strong.
The Revolution's number wouldn't be so high,
And we'd sleep a bit deeper after we die.
But cats would have to be more careful,
And rolling dice would be less cheerful.
I suppose it wouldn't be a universal fix,
To make 6 into 9 and 9 into 6.
Copyright © Thomas Wiener | Year Posted 2025
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Thomas Wiener Poem
Sixteen sailors strode into a pub,
Then a group of them left to get some grub.
Those who remained got into a fight,
With some locals who drank there every night.
Although the sailors did outnumber,
The locals (who were also dumber)
Two sailors shy of a ratio of two-to-one,
They (the sailors) had lost and the locals had won.
But then exactly half who had left for food,
Returned to the pub in a foul mood.
One local had left, a man named Tor,
Until the ratio was the reverse of what it was before,
Even though the beaten sailors couldn't fight,
The fresh sailors versus the locals, all right!
Don't ask me how it went,
For I will remain forever silent.
But could you determine how many sailors
Could be considered failures,
Because they went to get grub
And didn't return to the pub
Never swinging a punch nor taking a fall,
Against the locals at all?
Copyright © Thomas Wiener | Year Posted 2025
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