It started with Covid-19
The likes of which we'd never seen. We thought we'd be good but we should have touched wood as it's turned into something obscene. So then ****** Hornets arrived (we thought it was something contrived, excuse me for thinking) They told us unblinking From a horror flick this was derived He was hoping to win the election and he just couldn't stand the rejection. His effort to thwart was to ***** us in court but he couldn't maintain an *******. rc
The thing that's annoyingly tragic is,
This cactus has plenty of adjectives, So why can't I rhyme, Like I do all the time, And find myself right where the magic is? I can't figure out a limerick, About a cactus and its ******, God-**** it, it's stumped me, I've been trying for centuries- Or has it just been a few minutes?
For practice, I've been writing limericks about random objects. This is what I came up with for a cactus.
Chilled haiku sake, Sautéed clerihew au jus, Free-range limericks baked to perfection, Footle fries, Yum!
10/17/2019 - Bon Appétit ! Poetry form: Epulaeryu - A poem that is entirely about food. It has seven lines with a grand total of thirty-three syllables. The meter of the poem is set so that it is, 7/5/7/5/5/3/1. The poem is supposed to revolve entirely around the dish. Each line is supposed to present information about it. The end of an Epulaeryu poem ends with an exclamation point because the poem itself is about the writer's excitement and enjoyment toward the dish that they are writing about. The final line, the one-syllable word is meant to sum up the feelings that the writer has. The Epulaeryu poem is a way to express these positive feelings about food and is a fun way to do so. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019 - Bon Appétit !
Jeffrey Epstein is gone. Suicided?
The conclusion is still undecided. A libidinous god . . . or a jewel for Mossad? The tribunal is deeply divided. Mr Epstein is gone... wonder where. Is he dead? All conjecture is fair. Was that him on the slab? We all hoped we would blab; his declassified secrets to share.
He used to manage my hedge-funds back in the day ☺
poetic thoughts running free 'n' about,
thinking limericks, my mind's full of doubt. spooked from behind, as then i called for my cat, trying to convince, the innocent claws to chase out the rat. as all he did was pout the fat 'n' lazy, stout...
I need to say something I’d rather not have to say
But there is a bed I have made and now I must lay you shouldn’t have to know But I’m gonna say no I really hope our friendship won’t have to pay.....
There once was a young girl from China
Who found a sprig of Spartina. She went to the web as her marsh it was dead And found it’s from North Carolina.
A native of the east coast of the USA, Spartina alterniflora has been introduced to marshes up and down the west coast as well as to countries such as China. The species has a dense root system that hinders filtration and out-competes native species
Down in the Chesapeake Bay
A boy looked down in dismay He went looking for Blues, but there was some bad news The Green Crab had ruined his day.
Of all the creatures of old
that fly to escape from the cold no journey compares to the trip that is their's Dendroica striata take gold.
Also known as the blackpoll warbler, their nonstop migration takes them over 2500km from Alaska and northern Canada in the summer to South America and the Caribbean in the winter.
Recently their classification has changed making them part of the Setophaga genus. Their new scientific name is Setophaga striata.
no limericks today
none of my dads amusings no rhyme no tale no sing no complaining no dancing no pole vaulting no dashing yards blues yes harmonica wailing and the banjo picking me apart no poems necessary got it all got it none got it in my brain cause soul n’ heart all longtime surrendered the wind whips my t-shirt and what was beneath it gone never know what piece of me blew away but for sure it was not a ditty something cute for the blues chased away all the limericks and there’s are just an all gone