Lymerick

It’s the 4th of July, I’m in an airport and I can’t think of anything better than this to write

The internet’s slower than piss.
I’m waiting and waiting like this:
When I click on a link,
Take a dump I would think
The page loaded but that would be bliss.

Safe trip, YN.

There was a First Lady named Clinton
Who had federal G-men asquintin'
At reams of the email
Concealed by this female
In national service unstintin'.

Landed! Thanks, PB.

The Clintons are trying to show,
Like the Bushes--It’s time we all know--
We’re a monarchy still
And each dynasty will
Switch out actors each four years or so.

There once was a fellow named Wilber
With his brother, an aircraft builder
Flew at Kitty Hawk
Somewhat less than Mach
To them O'Hare would bewilder

That cat thinks my mouse is for real
And the keyboard’s for walking on. She’ll
Drive her claws in my arms
Plop her plump body’s charms
On my hand make me click on some deal.

I once had a dog named Bingo
Who possibly was part dingo
He'd howl at the moon
From midnight till noon
Whilst I tried to decrypt his lingo

Nice one, Sanch!

There once was a stallion named Ed;
He's glue now: I fear he's long dead.
But back in the day
When "W-I-I-I-I-LBUR" he'd say,
How nature and art would be wed!

Lassie is loyal and true.
For a dog she does what she can do.
She’s more faithful than girls
With their big eyes and curls
And a boy loves his dog better, too.

There once was a canine called Lassie
Whose instincts were keen and bark sassy.
She competed with Laugh-In
And was given the gaff in
Respect to Miss Goldie Hawn's chassis.

Thx, PB, I'm just trying to keep up with you and Y/N.

There once was a dog named Old Yeller
A right fine yet forward type of feller
Had a girl named Rover
When she'd come over
He'd go behind her just to smell her

The problem with swans is they figure anything that drops out of their bills is for the fish to eat

There once were some swans who loved fish.
They would feed them right out of their dish.
Course it had to fall out
Of swan bills, slosh about
In the water till fish got their wish.

There were three beneficent swans:
Who, of fish, grew exceedingly fond.
They shared them their sup
Then gobbled them up
And mused, "Ah, tis too bad their gone!"

A swan gets a virus and dies;
A perch comes and picks out its eyes.
The bird's final wishes
Were "Feed the damn fishes,
But please stop your saccharin lies."

A sign of a shaky piece: One has to explain and apologize, but here goes...I chose a "lymerick lover" to be the protag of the "bad poet who is in love" theme for a forum prompt, the flash pieces due this Friday. Who knows maybe spotting this thread on the forum inspired this. Anywho, the "bad poet" can either be a poet who sucks as a poet or a poet who is bad because he does evil. I chose the former. So, for a little fun, my guy has flown from the U.S. to England a couple of times somehow managing to figure out his flight crew so he may be with the object of his low grade crush, a beautiful flight attendant. Here goes (This is a very pale imitation of Edward Lear whom I used to read all the time to my son. I love the nonsense stuff. The imitation is so pale, but it's the love that counts. I hope.)

Lymerick lover:

There once was a man of Shalott
Whose love had given him the hots.
So away with her he ran til they put him in the can,
Oh that poor old man of Shalott.

After enduring this and well as some aggressive passes, the poor flight attendant/love interest finds an emergency limerick pack in the seat back pocket, a pack a thoughtful crew member had given her to help her through this pass. She gave him this:

Good luck with your trip cross the pond.
Of you I never was fond.
But you'll be home soon
And you'll stay there marooned,
No love after your trip cross the pond.

Very nice, hw! :)

There once was a love unrequited:
One blossom was flush, one was blighted.
A curse of the pharaohs
On the boy with the arrows
To smile on his mischief, delighted.

Sweet! And thanks for the support. ha. :)

All men know of Queen Aphrodite:
She is feared from Olympus to Blighty.
She took her to sulkin'
On marrying Vulcan
But she cheered up on Mars sans her nightie.

The goddesses brave men adore
Are viewed more or less like a whore.
They are good for a night,
Maybe two. At daylight
Those brave men look to them like a bore.

There is a sly nymph known as Circe
Who lifts up for sailors her jersey.
It stiffens the spine
Until bang!--your a swine:
Crying wee wee wee wee for her mercy.

There once was a beauty named Leda:
Quite a shameless (it's said) fornicator.
One day on her lawn
She made love with a swan;
And, the way that I heard it, he paid her!

There once was a fellow named Nate
Whose love for his girl wouldn't abate
But she went around
With other guys in town
Proving love is the closest thing to hate

Oh and welcome to the thread, HW!

Ah, Lord Cupid's a rat, that I'll give you!
With an arrow of gold will he shiv you.
First you'll beg for the taste
Of your lover's fair face,
Then you'lł beg for your wife to forgive you.

In the cave of the dragon the dead
Hung and dripped their warm blood, sticky red,
And the damsel distressed
Spoke to me unimpressed,
“Relax. We have donuts,” she said.

Heh heh. That one had some style!

A dragon's a menace, and heck!
To meet one, I'd not long reflect;
But less like a hobbit,
More like Mrs. Bobbit,
I'd slice a clean cut to the neck.

The Bern and his once-hallowed purity
Drew voters who lacked, well, maturity.
But now they've grown sore
That their hero's a whore
Kept by Goldman and Sachs for security.

^Bah-hahahaha-HAH

There was a young bride named Bobbitt
Who knifed a nub just to cob it
Her Hubby'd been whoring
'Cos she was quite boring
Then she looked for a place to go lob it

Thanks, Sancho. :)

There is a day's evening called Friday
When LitNetters love to play hidey
Lest it become known
They sit lonely at home:
So their loneliness grows, God almighty!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Sancho

Oh and welcome to the thread, HW!

---

Thank you, Sancho. Just now seeing this. I am new, slow on the uptake, or just slow. ha ha. Wait, I need to figure out a way to put this into a limerick. I can tell this is going to train my brain to think in a completely different way, just like the days I used to have Edward Lear on the brain, the days nonsense rhymes were part of the fabric. Hey, worse things could befall a person.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Pompey Bum

Thanks, Sancho. :)

There is a day's evening called Friday
When LitNetters love to play hidey
Lest it become known
They sit lonely at home:
So their loneliness grows, God almighty!

---

Ha ha! Tell me about it PB. But alas, I'm not ashamed! If I'm going to be a nerd, I nerd out completely.

Going backward in time could be fun
But the past seems too old. It is done.
And that future caress
Will not feel any less
If I wait patiently and don’t run.

I don't eat a lot of viande,
Of fowl I'm not overly fond,
I can't stand the squish
Of my fork against fish
That I've sent to the briny beyond.

Having fish with big eyes on a plate
Makes me feel for the worm used as bait,
Makes me wonder if I’m
Being baited this time:
Eat the fish and get hooked to some fate.

Enough of your vacuous chatter
While on corpses you grow yourself fatter;
If it oinks, moos, or clucks,
You're just sh*t out of luck.
Are you getting it? Quack lives matter!

There was a young fellow named Reggie
Who up and went totally veggie
He stated his case
Food shouldn't have a face
Now he eats mainly the lettuce wedgie

I got a speck in my eye:
I can't say what, when, where, or why.
I poked it in vain
And I broke it in twain.
Now two specks to perplex me have I.

Speaking of food we could eat
There is plenty of lively, fresh meat
That is not yet quite dead.
It is running ahead.
Bam! I got one! A nice yummy treat.

There once was a girl called Cro-Magnon
Who found herself chompin' and gaggin' on
The flesh of great beasts
At her elephant feasts--
She was no one, indeed, to be raggin' on.

The thing fell out of my eye;
It left not a spot nor a stye.
I won't miss it much
Nor think on it as such;
I just wish it a heartfelt goodbye.

The moon is a lump of green cheese
With a face half-suppressing a sneeze;
Its soft glow's a beacon
To tempt a chaste deacon
And part the dour-maidenliest knees.