While Talking on the Homophone

Rate this poem
327 votes

While talking on the homophone
I heard the strangest thing.
I heard a girl named Summer Winter
fall into a spring.

I heard a knight who mourned
for Eve and Dawn one afternoon
was later weakened in a daze
by April, May and June.

I heard a baker pinched some dough
and pitched the batter too.
But when the owner fired him
the loafer wouldn’t shoo.

I heard a psychic wagered stakes
and gamboled as she won.
It’s rare to see a medium
who’s ever so well done.

I heard the toast made butter fly.
The reason? It was plain.
I heard the king was always wet.
He blamed his lifetime reign.

But now he’s dry; at eight feet tall
his crown was over throne.
I guess that’s what I get
for talking on the homophone.

 --Kenn Nesbitt

Copyright © 2003. All Rights Reserved.

Reading Level: Grade 3

 


Use This Poem

Would you like to use this poem in your classroom? Would you like permission to reprint, record, recite or broadcast this poem, or set it to music? Please click on one of the following links for permissions and reprint rights information: