Homonymic Havoc

Homonymic Havoc

A Poem by Christine the Bean

A broken result of what happens when you play with homonyms.

(Originally written on November 5, 2012)

We are made to become heirs to the throne

the maid toils and pumps hot airs into the beds we have thrown away

the mail arrives at eight

a male shouts once he’s ate

the meat goes bald when allowed to burn

when asked to meet him he bawled aloud through his veins

my main hope is to be free

the mane is disturbed by the bee  

bear your conscience

bare everything

the patience upon the plain

the patients proceed to the plane

a pail is smashed to one shrubbery piece

she goes pale, she’s already won, she sheds a tear for peace

in the pain of the world happiness fades to blue

look into the pane where life whirled itself and blew


bail a beat-up future

a bale of straw to pull up the beet

one’s bawl goes unheard

as a ball tumbles onto the street

an oar that’s been pared to perfection

nothing watched or heard, paired too with two names

the bell sings, the beach rings, the excitement of the poor children

this belle who wipes her eyes under the beech tree goes to pour the tea

know we not of the future

No, you don’t!” says the farmer

wear this, do that, peal out

where does the wise man go to peel his bandage? 

buy tomorrow

stand by today

say good-bye to yesterday

he ails for weeks, seeing nothing but a board

the ales on the shelves appear bored

a 50-cent piece in the right hand

letters sent back to write themselves again

they’re not here

there it is

so why don’t we give up this case?

sew it up and let’s be done with it

but it’s their wedding!

butt out--I have nothing to say


along this road

he rode from town and back

a coarse way of routing

the course deeply rooting

the way from dear somewhere to nowhere

distract a deer

watch that cord 

string the guitar’s chord

the rose on the table is for sale; move it or you will die

rows of people have come to sail in; dye spots dot their eyes

what is that hare doing here? 

pluck a hair and try to hear me

see a sight to behold, have an eye for detail

go out to sea; yes, this is the site, I wish to be…

soar on your dreams,  find your soul

intrigue your sore mind, be fined for sole stupidity

it flew around the sun

it gave the flu to my son

four flights of stairs

for months at a time he stares

my dog’s tail like an indecisive fool

his tale is full of promise

I step forth alone

the fourth-wall knowledge

should have thought it through

but I threw myself in


my hands are tied with the great feeling of freedom

lost in the tide, the waves grate the sand

 be vain and reject a Christmas hymn

trace the vein of life and come back to Him

 the whole form of confidence

leaves a hole in the sky

mark the hours

dignity is no longer ours

wait upon everything; the way we knew how to be weak

the weight of all people to weigh in the new week

tie the knot of shame

no, it’s not our time

when a witch sees you

which one will you choose

when you’ve lain your wood

which lane would you take?

© 2013 Christine the Bean

Author's Note

Christine the Bean
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Added on April 17, 2013
Last Updated on April 19, 2013
Tags: homonyms, wordplay, words, poetry, poem, Christine the Bean