The emerald leaves were twinkling in the afternoon sun,
as I counted down the minutes, the seconds until one, for I knew my end would be there soon. I laid in the grass so the earth could consume me as an uncorked wine, my spoil had begun. g.g.p.
There once was a ponderous piper Peter,
Whose arm burned off in a heater. It's now hard to fit pipe, But he doesn't gripe. He's got one arm, a mouth, and his peter.
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who walked off the job and said "**** it; Can't work one more day If you treat me this way. The boss and employees can **** it."
Classic first line, the rest is (probably) original.
I see what your future holds, nothing new and nothing unknown. But you must swiftly act, or loose unwritten stories to the past. Your future is yours to unfold.
The clock doesn’t offer refunds.
It can’t give back my time. So what can I do when I already blew twenty minutes on making this rhyme?
The tree sitter of Nantucket
Lived in a tree and he dug it He never went down To visit the ground So he would **** in a bucket
I hope this is profane enough to represent the genre.
This cat has a tongue that sticks out
From behind sharp teeth does it sprout She hasn’t a care How we all stare We’ll never know what it’s about
If you want to see the picture: https://jupitermagna.com/?p=1670
The unusual state of my brain
is forever my life’s greatest pain whenever a thought is in reach my mind instead grabs the bleach and removes the idea like a stain
Limerick I wrote while trying to write actual poetry