Ima Ryma


Ima Ryma Poems

161. Birthday Blues 2/6/2013
162. Birthday Boy, King - Lincoln Park Zoo 9/15/2015
163. Bits Of Truth 1/27/2013
164. Black Aggie 11/28/2010
165. Black Cat 11/20/2013
166. Black Crowned Night Heron - Lincoln Park Zoo 8/20/2013
167. Black Elk Peak 8/22/2016
168. Black Howler Monkey - Lincoln Park Zoo 3/5/2016
169. Black Olives Matter 9/16/2016
170. Black Piranha 4/23/2013
171. Black Rhino Born - Lincoln Park Zoo 9/12/2013
172. Black Tree Monitor - Lincoln Park Zoo 4/19/2015
173. Blind Insight 7/8/2016
174. Bling Up 1/29/2013
175. Blood Moon 5/14/2014
176. Bloody Middle East 9/24/2014
177. Bloody Sunday 3/23/2015
178. Blow Worthy 1/29/2014
179. Blowfly On The Fly 3/22/2016
180. Blue Eyes 12/29/2016
181. Blue Faced Honey Eater - Lincoln Park Zoo 5/17/2016
182. Blyth's Hornbill - Lincoln Park Zoo 2/26/2014
183. Bo 5/9/2010
184. Bo And The Blame 10/27/2014
185. Bo And The Constitution 3/25/2014
186. Bo And The Intruder 10/14/2014
187. Bo And The Our Girls 6/5/2014
188. Bo And The Paid Per View 2/14/2015
189. Bo And The Play Through 2/3/2015
190. Bo And The Resolute Desk 12/1/2013
191. Boar For More 1/3/2016
192. Bodily 10/25/2007
193. Bolivian Titi - Lincoln Park Zoo 6/25/2013
194. Bombadier Beetle 12/18/2016
195. Bond Of Bird 2/18/2013
196. Boo 2/27/2013
197. Boudicca 9/23/2015
198. Boy Next Door - Lincoln Park Zoo 8/10/2015
199. Brain Hack 3/5/2013
200. Brain Snap 3/3/2016
Best Poem of Ima Ryma

A Dog Of Few Words

A clerk said, 'Next in line - this way.'
A dog spoke up, 'I guess I am.'
'What can we do for you today? '
'I want to send a telegram.'
The clerk handed the dog a note.
'You'll have to write it out somehow.'
The dog took pen in teeth and wrote,
'Bow wow wow, bow wow wow, bow wow.'
The clerk read what the dog had penned.
'One to ten words have the same fees.'
'There's eight words now, so you can send'
'Another 'bow wow' if you please.'

'No, ' the dog said, 'Just between us, '
'One more would sound ridiculous.'

Read the full of A Dog Of Few Words

Mystery Tree

The old dead tree stood on a hill,
An ugliness of jagged rot,
In looming form so dark and still
Against the sun - a lonely blot.
My folks had told me not to play
Around that tree; and so of course
I headed for it right away,
Drawn by its mysterious force.
There was an urge I would not stop.

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