Lymerick

I'll be the first to admit I don't get most poetry. I have a subscription to The New Yorker and read all the poems they print each week, but I'm usually left scratching my head - just sitting in my reading chair, with the furled-brow expression of a chimpanzee looking at a hydrostatic transmission.

At any rate, probably, a limerick is to a sonnet what a sea shanty is to a piano sonata.

A limerick is one for the masses
For folks of all types and classes
Not the best of us
But the rest of us
A chance to shine our collective asses

Some poetry’s like a dog’s bone.
It’s best if you leave it alone
Or bury it deep
Lest it put you to sleep
Or worse make you read it and moan.

The monster who’s under my bed
Runs mysterious dreams through my head,
Makes me wake up and yawn
But at dawn he is gone
Like a word thought but then left unsaid.

I thought I might kick this off again. I am a poet and song writer but thought I might give it a go here.

I knew a girl from Ceduna
That liked eating canned Tuna
She died the other day
In a horrible way
But I'm really glad that I knew her.


Oh well, back to writing poetry. :)

Nice one!

The tuna stuffed tight in that can
Could kill a respectable man
...

I may have to sleep on that one and see if something pops to mind in the morning.

There once was a fellow from Philly
Who like to dress in things frilly
He went to a doc
Who cut off his ****
Now Billy from Philly goes by Lily

The tuna stuffed tight in the can
Was restless to watch a new man.
Would he take a quick bite?
Swallow wine with delight?
Just one look from her--he’ll understand.

There was young guy from Laguna
Who preferred fresh ahi tuna
Of fish in a can
He was not a fan
So he'd rather eat later than soon-ah

It looks like we’re buried too deep.
Reality hints we’re asleep,
But we think we’re awake.
All the truth we can’t take
Makes us laugh since we’d rather not weep.

That lymrick fails Sancho's cognition
It's a most convoluted rendition
It's gotta be art
Exceedingly smart
So let's just call it "The Human Condition"

The things you are babbling about
are raising empirical doubts--
It's such a bum deal
(defining what's real)
if you keep pratting on count me out.

At times verse is poorly unpacked
Its meaning made mostly abstract
Most loquacious
A school in Davis
Be careful yo mind don't get jacked

Whether nonsense is nonsense or not
There’s a lot that I’m glad I forgot.
I’d remember the light
And the cool starry night
But my mind’s dumped into a robot.

Are minds shaped and made just to crunch
Sums, or in thoughts, concepts bunch
I’d say it’s no matter
It leaves one unflattered
All Freshman year, went untouched :(

It’s wonderful sleeping in late,
Let the mindlessness regurgitate.
It’s irrationally true.
And it’s reasonable, too,
Like some icing too sweet for a cake.