Home » Poems » Best » Dean Wood » Best Dean Wood Poems

Best Poems Written by Dean Wood

Below are the all-time best Dean Wood poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Dean Wood Poem

The Hedgehog

A hedgehog sat upon a log
And ate a purple fig.
Soon, all that he had left of it
Was half a purple twig.

Next morning, he arose anew;
Declared that he felt fine.
Except for one development,
He now had purple spines!


1st Place in “Animal Nonsense” Contest
Sponsored by Kevin Shaw

Details | Dean Wood Poem

Kelp Me With This Won'T You

A young mermaid from old Shangri-La
Had a Math quiz --- right after her spa 
So she thought, “What to wear,
That will make the boys stare?”
Then she picked out her best algae-bra!

Details | Dean Wood Poem

The Silk Road

Two silk worms from east Shanghai
Had a fight; can’t tell you why
To settle the clash,
A hundred yard dash,
They both ended up in a tie!

Details | Dean Wood Poem

Mountain Oasis

The trail to the peak was a long and arduous climb
Which skirted a pristine glacial lake about midway.
Shimmering below, it offered a cooling balm for the heat
And a picturesque spot to rest and refuel for a while.

A short down-climb led to a high cliff that overhung the depths
Of aquamarine waters; crystal clear, revealing a rocky bottom.
Chartreuse lichen grew from the wetted rock face
While damsel flies of cerulean hue darted to and fro.

In the shade of a small oak we were content to eat our lunch.
From our vantage we watched the cutthroat trout feed;
Rising to a caddis hatch. Splashes of watermelon, coral and saffron
Under their jawlines divulged the source of their strange name.  

Fronting the shore, a spacious open meadow served as a refuge.
A doe and twin fawns lay surrounded by tall grass and wild flowers.
Tangerine bells, snow-white lupine, and purple daisies with lemon eyes
In hues of lavender and lilac covered the park in waves.

After a short dip in the icy waters, we took a few moments to gather our things
And reflect on the beauty and grandeur of this unknown retreat.
Truly we were blessed, our bodies, minds and souls rejuvenated 
As we climbed the slope to continue our trek to the snow-capped peak.



8/1/2017
Free Verse

6th Place
Seasonal Color Contest
Sponsor:  Dale Gregory Cozart

Details | Dean Wood Poem

Big John

Let me tell you a story from the old wild-west;
Of a terrible lawman with a star on his vest.
His title was “Ranger”; not bound to a town
He studied the outlaws then hunted them down.

One long hot summer; played like a pawn
He’d failed to take down the man called “Big John”.
He was tired and thirsty, his mood like black jet
As he rode into Dodge his sights were still set
On Big John!

He stabled his horse, and checked out the saloon
‘cause he’d heard the big man liked to drink there at noon.
Through the wide swinging doors, he strolled to the back
His face as long as a wagon-wheel track.

The scowl on his face told me this man was risky,
But I was the bar keep, and he needed whiskey.
So I poured him a double in a clean mason jar
And slid it down deftly to the end of the bar.

He quaffed it and gave me a tip of his hat.
I thought it was over, except for the fact
That his mood was still dark, like rain in a flood,
I knew in my gut there was bound to be blood.

There in the corner; his back to the wall,
He waited with patience; said nothing at all.
Just stared at the space ‘bove the wide swingin’ doors,
His hands at his sides, drooping down toward the floor.

It was quarter past noon when the room darkened some,
Big John in the doorway; blocking the sun.
Two shots rang out from the man in the vest.
Two blood stains emerged on the big fella’s chest.

Big John just stood there; there in the door,
Then the glasses all rattled as John hit the floor.
Dry-gultched, like a fox at a watering hole
Big John was finished; so, likely his soul! 

The old wanted poster said “Dead or Alive”.
They just didn’t care how Big John arrived!
The Ranger just smiled and sighed, “One more round!”
Then he gathered his pony and rode out of town.


May 9, 2017

Details | Dean Wood Poem

All Gods Creations

We walked on the beach, just Daddy and me,
And looked for shells in the sand.
We found a starfish holding tight to a rock
Then we walked down the beach holding hands.

He showed me where clams had made holes in a stone;
We watched how the waves filled a pool.
Then he told me all about fish and such things
And he joked, "Even they go to school."

We ran from the waves and made castles of sand.
And talked about Jesus awhile.
I could tell how Dad loved him, Jesus I mean,
From the tear in his eye, and his smile.

We climbed to the top of a really high cliff
To watch the sun hide in the sea.
Then daddy told me, "Of all that God made,
His greatest creation was me."



All God’s Creations
By:  Dean Wood
7/24/2017
Quatrain

1st Place
END JULY STANDARD CONTEST
Sponsor:  Brian Strand

Details | Dean Wood Poem

Coke Is It

Thirsty? I
wonder,
well I’ll
pop my
top. I’ll
hiss and
you’ll sigh
the fun just
won’t stop. I’d
like to teach the
world to sing, really
it’s no joke. For I’m the 
pause that refreshes, yup
Coca-Cola is Coke! Good to 
the last drop, you know it’s 
true.  The best combination
Is Red, White and You!  Coke 
adds to life wherever you are. 
Just have a Coke and shazam,
you’re a star. I am as pure as
 sunlight for all folks see; your
passport to refreshment; so
just what will it be. Let me
share a wee secret there’s
no need to be coy. Just 
open a Coke, then sit 
back and ENJOY. I’m
the favorite drink for all 
sorts of folks. You just can’t 
deny it, things go better with 
Coke. And you  can’t beat the 
feeling;  so don’t throw a fit. 
When you’re feeling Thirsty,
Look to me, COKE IS IT!

Details | Dean Wood Poem

Poets

So you fancy that you know the poet?
I for one, wouldn’t dare make that claim!
Poets have ventured where few men have been,
And the poet is no stranger to pain.

Poets don’t live on the same plane as most,
Theirs is much deeper and higher.
They have dipped their quills in the blackest of ink
And climbed farther than most can aspire.

In a way, they are like a reporter
But their stories do not come second hand.
When their words bring to life vivid scenes of delight
You can bet there’s more gold in the sand.

The poet who writes of the joys of a puppy
And paints pictures of frolic and play
Has watched his companion grow old and pass on,
And thanked the good Lord for the days.

The man who rejoices at a burgeoning oak
Just breaking forth from the brown
Has sat in the shade of a towering red wood
And wept when it fell to the ground.

When the words of a bard touch you deep with its truth
And ring in your heart like a bell
You can bet that they paid for that seed with their youth
Or snatched it from some unknown hell.

For ‘tis poets, not fools who will quickly rush in
Where good men and angels refrain.
Only there do his cryptic words yield their meaning,
Only there can you feign know his pain.

Details | Dean Wood Poem

Winding Our Way Through Time

The rising sun marks break of day
Its zenith, we call noon.
Its setting brings the evening chill
And ushers in the moon.

The sundial charts its burning rays.
Its pathway plotted out
Predicts the hour of every day
Beyond a shadow of a doubt!

Precious time, there’s none to waste
And so we set the staff
Inventing ways to track its passage
Clocks and chronograph 

The mainspring and the pendulum,
The tall Grandfather Clock
Becomes the heartbeat of the home
Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock

The pocket watch with silver chain
Umbilical, life line
We spend our days; entire lives,
Winding our way through time

Time is time, it’s so precise
Ethereal and pure,
With a watch we always know the time
But when we’ve two, unsure!

Details | Dean Wood Poem

The Way of the Damned

Sisyphus pushes his rock up hill
While Atlas bears his load.
Damned by the ire of capricious gods,
Forced down a toilsome road.

And so it is with the gods of thrill
Who trap and hold you fast
With opioids and images,
Perniciously unsurpassed!

Beware the promise of wealth or skill
Contained in a bottle brown.
Hold to the rod of simple truth
Lest you be taken down!


June 29, 2017