Poetry Report: April 2019

Poetry month is finished and we’re into May. Since I posted each NaPoWriMo poem, I’ll not recap, other than to say it was a great experience. Per the challenge, I was prompted to try a few new things with form and content. My congratulations to all participants. This was my third season with the 30 poems in 30 days challenge.

I plan to continue writing a poem each day during May as I have been doing each day of 2019, but I will need to work up my own prompts. I think May could be a good limerick month. Not sure how (or if) I will do that. I do not post every poem I write, but I may put up some Limericks I find written by others (with cred, if I can determine origins). And I do need to write some of my own.

Over on the Dispassionate Doubt page (my other blog), I have no ideas or plans. Something for sure, but not every day as was the case with the A to Z Challenge and my version of a skeptic’s dictionary.

Look both ways, back to March and April, and on to May and June.
Mind the gaps and cracks in everything, that’s how the light gets in.

L – Limerick (NaPoWriMo #14)

A limerick consists of five lines. Lines one, two, and five have 3 beats each and rhyme. Lines three and four have 2 beats and rhyme. Referred to as light verse (or vers de société) by Lewis Turco, limericks tend to be light, humorous, and often bawdy or dirty.

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The first “poem” I recall hearing was a bawdy limerick my father told me. I don’t recall my age. I heard it once and never forgot. It was a shocker, although Dad often used such language around me.

There was a young lady from Freeling
Who had a funny feeling
She laid on her back
And tickled her crack
And pissed all over the ceiling

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I wrote this one in class about a Creative Writing teacher.

There once was a lady from North Bend
In teaching us to write, she had no end
She had a great thought
We fit and we fought
Until our writing was well penned

Well, the class thought it was funny.

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Some wee dribble of self-pique from the old flapdoodle.

There was an old-fart named Bill
Who was also a bit of a pill
Until he met her
The rest is a blur
And now he conforms to her will

It’s all about me, ya know.

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Many of us follow this lass. So, a bit of a gentile and friendly jab. Click on her name to link to her blog.

There once was a blogger named joey
And she loved to tell us her story
She speaks of the mister
Like he is her sister
Instead of her very first quarry

Do ya think I’ll hear about that one?

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I had to take shot at someone, or male pride, in general.

There once was a man from south Brooklyn
Who thought his self too good lookin’
It happened one day
His thing wouldn’t play
Now he’s no master Al Pushkin

Dirty is funny, right?

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Mind the gaps on top of it all
Look both ways: eye on the ball
   But watch for the fart
   That is really a shart
And you’ll have no reason to bawl

(Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I wrote them all, except the first one, and I assume full responsibility for the content of my limericks.)

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