If she's easy  just like

     How she was easy

     Then what does that make you?

The Platypus
(a limerick for adults, teens and older children)
by Michael R. Burch

The platypus, myopic,
is ungainly, not ******.
His feet for bed
are over-webbed,
and what of his proboscis?

The platypus, though, is eager
although his means are meager.
His sight is poor;
perhaps he’ll score
with a passing duck or ******.

Keywords/Tags: limerick, double limerick, humor, light verse, nonsense verse, platypus, ******, duck, proboscis, nose, beak, feet, webbed, flippers, eyes, eyesight, sight, vision, myopia, myopic, animal, nature, ******, erotica



The Mallard
by Michael R. Burch

The mallard is a fellow
whose lips are long and yellow
with which he, honking, kisses
his *****, boisterous mistress:
my pond’s their loud bordello!



Dot Spotted
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a leopardess, Dot,
who indignantly answered: "I'll not!
The gents are impressed
with the way that I'm dressed.
I wouldn't change even one spot."



Stage Craft-y
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a dromedary
who befriended a crafty canary.
Budgie said, "You can’t sing,
but now, here’s the thing—
just think of the tunes you can carry!"



Ballade of the Bicameral Camel
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a camel who loved to ****.
Please get your lewd minds out of their slump!
He loved to give RIDES on his large, lordly lump!



Clyde Lied!
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a mockingbird, Clyde,
who bragged of his prowess, but lied.
To his new wife he sighed,
"When again, gentle bride?"
"Nevermore!" bright-eyed Raven replied.



Other Limericks



The Better Man
by Michael R. Burch

Dear Ed: I don't understand why
you will publish this other guy—
when I'm brilliant, devoted,
one hell of a poet!
Yet you publish Anonymous. Fie!

Fie! A pox on your head if you favor
this poet who's dubious, unsavor
y, inconsistent in texts,
no address (I checked!) :
since he's plagiarized Unknown, I'll wager!



"Of Tetley's and V-2's" or "Why Not to Bomb the Brits"
by Michael R. Burch

The English are very hospitable,
but tea-less, alas, they grow pitiable...
or pitiless, rather,
and quite in a lather!
O bother, they're more than formidable.

Help. If that is a question,

and quests are journeys from here to there and back,
again.

If and. A state of hesi oddness,
yes,
we exist in spite or spirit of
our creator, eh?
The craftsman's due.
Muzzle not the ox that treads the corn.

Pay the piper, if ye dance, ye know ye did.
No need to lie and say you know better,

you became more like yourself as you aged,
who made you be you?
Who do you think you are?

Aha, Pinocchio, Punch 'n' Judy… no, no Stepford
wife, but a reason for the wish, clown collector meet my
Curio store clown,
Kohari,

Can we handle a different true?
Kohari, looks you in the eye, a god message,

come up the ladder,
tell me no lie, or I
shall laugh out loud in your face, you don't know

squat, dung, **** brings stars to your ai
respectible eyes,

but this is the medium, the way, so to say, we came to
help
get past actual standing under knowns,
and begin walking into the rest
that remains to be known,

by those who see by faith invisible things form
into substantiated realms of sensation,
sense, common,
is felt known
--- safe here, asif
no miles to go,
this were home, and sleeping, now,
is safe.

anyone know why
some poems are double posted
through no fault of ours?

Dreaming Graceland or Zombie Land: Double Tap


When you think Elvis was a fraud,
a rip off the black man’s voice;

when you finally meet someone
who smells like candles
instead of gunpowder and whiskey;

who is comfortable with you
driving that pink Cadillac
all the way to Memphis;

who won’t
throw your pink stuff
to the side of the road;

who will kiss you
and hold your hand

until you arrive at Graceland
and try on those blue suede shoes
that actually fit;

let you gyrate your hips,
and for one moment,
feel like the King;

until you open your eyes
and really, really see
that you’re  in Zombieland.