Posts Tagged ‘limerick’

April is National Poetry Month

April: not a bad month, literarily. All the writing challenges you could ever want, plus a celebration of that most elusive of literary forms.

Ah, poetry. Done right, it can give you a feeling, a memory, put a ray of sunlight into words.

Done wrong, well – that’s what I do.

Poetry is interesting. It either resonates, or you may find yourself wondering why you’re bothering. It can rhyme, or not. And if it does, there are dozens of accepted forms. You can really do whatever you want, as long as it forms some connection.

I’m not a big poetry person – I think I lack the necessary imagery-interpreters in my brain, but even I occasionally find some that touch something.

Here’s one of my favorites: This is Just to Say, by William Carlos Williams:

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Thus goes my tastes. (My husband and I actually put this on the back of our wedding programs.) I also admit to liking e.e.cummings because I love to look at his poems, from the odd punctuation to the strange formatting. You’d think, as an editor, that he’d drive me crazy, but there’s something very appealing about the whole thing.

And then, on the other end of the spectrum, I rather enjoy Robert Frost. Nothing Gold Can Stay is one of my favorites – perhaps because the first play I ever did in high school was the Outsiders.

I claim to be neither e.e.cummings or Robert Frost, so the best you get from me are strange limericks.

Though I hate to be engrossed
There’s something about stories of ghosts
The thrills and the sounds
Jumping abounds
At the behest of a deep-voiced host

What are your favorite poems, Squiders? Any good at any of your own?

Ceiling Turtles

They lurk above, where you don’t notice their slow, deliberate movements. Then – when you least expect it – they drop down, onto your head, and gnaw gently on your ears.

Not terribly scary, ceiling turtles, though they can be a bit of an inconvenience when you’re trying to impress a date. Also, sometimes they make your mind wander and your blog post never gets done.

Have a limerick.

Beware, for above lurks the ceiling turtle
Tends to be attracted to shampoos herbal
He drops on your head
But you’re probably not dead
He can be rid of using essence of myrtle

Landsquid Friday: Limerick

To put the landsquid back in Where Landsquid Fear to Tread, the Landsquid shall be more active from here on out. I’m not sure if it will be every Friday or a less regular thing quite yet. I am not the best planner in the world.

(Also, thank you to everyone who told me they couldn’t see a learning curve with the last landsquid from the wacom tablet, even though you lie horribly. It took me approximately fifteen tries to get this one to look like a landsquid and not some strange Angry Birds reject.)

Today, I have a landsquid and a limerick for you. Enjoy.

There was a landsquid named Joe
Whose editing simply won’t go
He sweeps every room
With a dusty old broom
But alas, procrastination just grows

Alpaca Poetry

Once again, the Friday Round-up did not get rounded up, so today we will be discussing alpacas.

How can you not like alpaca?  They are fluffy and evil.  I submit the following as evidence (and also dare you not to laugh):

The comedic timing of the alpaca can be compared to the llama or the moose, both comedy staples.  (In my world, at least.  Admittedly I grew up on Monty Python and Whose Line Is It, Anyway?)  So, to honor these adorable would-be world dominators, and because poetry and I – especially meaningful poetry not about animals, fictional or not – do not get on, I offer you…the Alpaca Limerick.

There once was an alpaca from Surrey
Whose neck was not in the least bit furry
He tried Rogaine
To regrow his mane
All it did was provide rash-y fury.