This week, I thought we’d explore the wholly risible world of the limerick. Along with their other submissions, I requested, very nicely, that the poets submit an example each of this venerable, versatile, and often quite amusing verse form.
The limerick emerged in the early 18th century, was popularized by poet Edward Lear, scoffed-at by professional poo-pooh-er George Bernard Shaw, and even banned in certain narrow circles, but endured, nonetheless, through the 20th century’s interminable wars, treaties and situation comedies, remaining alive and well today. Never fashionable, always fun! That’s limericks.
First up is, and first to respond was Matt Black, with several poems including the first, here, a daring expansion of the traditional structure which, while not quite a limerick in its truest sense, represents a valiant effort, nonetheless. High-five, Matt!
'Limerickrickrick' There was once a man called Rick Taylor Whose prick got caught in a baler. "It could be a needle..." He started to wheedle. His wife wasn't brookin' - "You'd better keep lookin' Each cranny-and-nook in - I ain't just for cookin'!" She told him, her face growing paler. - M.B. 'The Opposite Of Mindfulness' It was simple As a circle When I turned, she was there I did not turn about Two moves made At the same time Two responses in one breath In, and out again, by The way Open, wide, in a moment There is room to turn Consider every side. - M.B.
Your turn, Arvin Reyes!
'Bollywood' My cardamom pod was A star in the sky We danced beneath The Empress, and I, when A single seed fell that Painted her cheek As we were drawn up in A pelican's beak Which bird bore us, high, over Mountain, and mall Theater, and satellite Dish (and Nepal) To a corner of England where Manners were crude And the feet of the people Athletically shoed They kvetched, and they kicked And reveled, and spewed And there we invented Indian food - A.R. 'Limerick' There was a young man from Limerick Who was exceedingly pissed that the name of his home town ever Became indelibly associated with a hackneyed-from-birth, Comedically-stunted, lyrically-toothless, soulless, foul-mouthed Disrespected - rightfully - and altogether pointless verse form And his balls ended up in Vancouver. - A.R.
Oh, I get it. See, that’s what I thought. You know what? Just forget it. You try and do something a bit different, a bit fun, and… never mind. Go ahead, Adam. I guess.
'Chippy' Come, you, Friars and Sellers Vaulters of the common wealth Left, and right (pole, and pole) Pray, thee, for a change Side, and side, front, and hide Differently arranged Head, and tail, and eyes Everywhere to rise And land, rattle-chattel, land Upon the undersides Of lids without flipping, now The pocket that was frozen lolling Dripping, like a tongue from A smile to lick the salt Of the up-turned, Western palm Becalmed - ah! you be calm. - A.W. 'Sir, Regarding Your Ungodly Proposal' Draw your bow! By my right-face Send your arrow! Draw once more And I shall show the left That deflects With heroic oath And mad, euphoric eyes We are the best Of all the worst Take a bow - how 'bout us both? - A.W.
Here’s some more poems. Oh, look, can we just drop the ‘drop cap’? It looks ridiculous with only two lines.
Here’s some more poems. Thank-you. Lauren Galmington wrote them. Hope you like them. They’re not limericks.
'There's Only One Alfred Only'
Alfred Only was pressing two halves
Of lignite together between the sheets
That seemed the last, and likeliest method of
Striking his unlikely gold of
Standing in the ornamental gardens of the city park
Forever, though it felt, still
A chit (he felt) like cheating, since
His wife was known as 'Stone Cold Sara-Clara
Campbell-Only'
In the bawdier tracts, and was
Away from home, again - another
Lecture tour - one more, she'd said
Before launch party, book release
And subsequent, unprecedented sales, acclaim
Almost universal ("Festerwits imagine
They might fail to fail
To please so-much-a-percent" - she wrote that)
Fame-fortune, concert hall
Engagement, first, then residency
Great age, venerability
Short illness, death with dignity
Mourning, and memorial
In city park, among the rhododendron and the geese
Next to, and an inch, or more, above
Alfred Only.
- L.G.
'Breakdance'
Faster than the eye
To capture, in a word
The lights, breaking, dancing, of
The city on the surface of
The water, and to capture them
The heights, and the depths of
Human feeling, in a word
We have failed, beautifully.
- L.G.
There was once a man who was glad To command a collective, and had A heart but, doggone it, The poets stomped on it, And he became sullen, and sad.
Hope this week’s post gave you a chuckle.
Bottoms-up.
J.R.
@saymoco
The Morning Corporation **** 