“Get a life!” my detractors will bray
To disparage the things that I say.
I ask, “What’s it to you
If I happen to do
Rhymes and riddles and wacky word play?”
From the archive
This week’s deadline has gotten too tight.
Can you write me a limerick tonight,
With a joke or a pun –
What? You’re already done?
Say, that sounds like a limerick I’d write.
It’s the silliest syllogism
And a metrical mechanism
For amusing a bloke
By telling a joke
Or conveying a witticism.
A perfectionist poet was picky
And found writing light verse rather tricky,
So he sought inspiration
From an apt distillation
In a perfectly punny lime rickey.
THE LONG & SHORT OF IT
Let iambs and anapests meet,
Dactyls and trochees compete,
But give yourself time
To get to each rhyme
Or you’re bound to trip over your feet.
Did this limerick just appear?
Was this limerick always here?
Surely you know it
Betokens a poet
Like Duplantier, Nash, or Lear.
You may think that I’m pulling a prank,
But I’m trying my best to be frank:
In my search for a rhyme
I have run out of time,
So you’ll just have to fill in the ___.
Last week’s limerick
Congressmen who are ninety years old,
Congressmen who are covered in mold,
Congressmen who can’t walk,
Congressmen who can’t talk,
Congressmen who just do what they’re told.