Your regular dose of versified humor
by our Poet in Deference:

Bob Wombacher Jr.

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Bob Wombacher, Jr., originally from Proctor, Minnesota, has lived in Page, Arizona for over a quarter of a century. A divorced father of three grown sons, Bob owns a business (Bashful Bob's Motel) in Page, near Lake Powell. He is a prolific writer of humorous poetry, and much of his work can be seen on his poetry website.

He admits to fudging a bit when it comes to finding ideas for his rhymes: "I've been collecting jokes ever since I was a teenager," says Bob. "My library of funny, little stories provides me with endless situations that lend themselves to becoming the raw material of which poems can be constructed." Bob thinks that rhyme and meter are important components of poetry, especially that composed in a humorous vein.

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Brawn To Lose

Though raising dumbells o'er your head
Takes all the steam that's in ya,
The greatest feat of strength, 'tis said,
Was Wheeling, West Virginia.

 

 

Get My Drift?

"Just foller a snowplow,"
My daddy had said,
Advising me one stormy day.
"Just eyeball that tailight,
The one blinking red,
And I promise that you'll be okay."
When I found myself lost
In a blizzard of white,
I recalled what my daddy had told.
I follered that snowplow
'Most all of the night,
Secure from the wind and the cold.
By the end of the night,
And by dawn's early light,
The driver came to me to say,
"I'm glad you've had fun.
This parking lot's done.
On to Wal-Mart; it's just down the way."