A few years ago, while still at school, I decided that if I ever wrote poetry, I would make certain that my efforts would, at the very least, border on general ridiculousness.
This was my first attempt at writing limericks:
There was a young boy of Gloucester,
Who needed all the strength he could muster
To win in a bout,
which he, no doubt,
Would have done, had he been robuster.
It is obvious to me now that I had little talent for this and I'm vaguely relieved I gave it up or I would soon have found myself going batty with the sheer effort of trying to find rhymes for Mediterranean and Medinipur.
Writing clerihews is far less exhausting, anyway.
Do reply with an original limerick, if you've written any or have the energy/ inclination to write one now.
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3 comments:
some less than pleasant ones?
There was a boy from Shillong
Who said, 'I shan't live for much long
er'. It was sad.
He was only a lad.
Somehow we must all scrape along.
A young lady from Lancashire
Was riding to Huntingdonshire
When suddenly she
Needed a pee
As well as some nice chilled beer
A man met a dragon in Cork
He said, 'I got fired from work.'
It commiserated
And deliberated
And said, 'I have tickets for Bjork.'
We read about a man from Dub
-lin, who was struck with a club
As he parted his hair
In his mirror with flair...
.Erus rof tuo lliw redrum tub
as for medinipur and mediterranean...
There was a chap called Mansoor
Left his family in Medinipur
For a tailor's shop
To toil till he drop
t. And all for haute couture.
Tonight our visiting poet Ian
Pens a panodic paean
Homesick with blues
Distilled from the hues
Of the wine-dark Mediterranean.
f.s.r,
I'm nuts about the one on Cork, though it did make me accidentally snort hot ovaltine up my nose (evidently humourless, as it didn't enjoy the experience at all).
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