Happy National Limerick Day
Today is the day we celebrate the limerick, that popular form of poetry with five lines, a predominantly anapestic meter, and a strict (AABBA) rhyme scheme.
Note: I had no idea that ABBA also did limericks! Man, they were some talented Swedes!
The limerick is a fun and whimsical form of poetry that tends to revolve around an odd man with an unusual ability who is from a small island off the coast of Massachusetts.
Within the family of poetry, the limerick is that fun uncle who tends to drink too much at family get-togethers, but whom everybody loves to be around. (Unlike his dull-witted and boring brother the Haiku–Haiku is just so full of himself.)
Note: in my family that uncle gets drunk, crashes his car into a bus full of orphans then pees on the responding police car. Everybody hates him.
Since today is also International Nurse Day and Nutty Fudge Day, I thought I’d write a limerick about Nurses and Nutty Fudge, but every attempt came out so filthy.
So instead I wrote this:
This blog attempts humor without rhyme,
and at that it fails most all of the time.
So I ran and I hid
for offend some I did,
punched in the face I was by an mime.
And now you know why this blog doesn’t do poetry.
Final note: for all those people who live in Limerick, Pennsylvania: this day is not about you.
Very cute!
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I enjoy fully displaying my true lack literary ability.
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Don’t be hard on yourself! You are doing great!
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I am doing great.
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first line: There was a Welsh Miner with …. His wife had One white one, one black one, and one with a little Shy-t on,
and the hair on her dickie diddle hung down to her knee’s…..
you get the drift…. 🙂 Now that’s a Limerick!
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I’ve heard a lot of things about the Welsh.
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The limerick packs laughs anatomical
Into space that is quite economical.
But the good ones I’ve seen
So seldom are clean
And the clean ones so seldom are comical
(stolen from Wikipedia) – so here you have the limerick in a nutshell – it usually is slightly lewd.
Like the last one I wrote for the inspect-a-gadget-column of the Guardian:
Gadget man does it in fours
into willing vessels he pours
some liquid called “cream”
what a naughty dream
and he serves at once all those w-ait – that won’t stand either …
(I wrote three – the first was lame, the second used a non-existing word and I thought I could do better with the third).
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What?
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Okay.
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Your poem I think could be better,
As there is the occasional letter
That shouldn’t be there,
Like a runaway hare,
Being chased by a fox in a sweater.
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Letter? Is that what those funny little shapes are?
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