For Heaven's sake, its gate, the prize, I'll win!
Vanquish those who do so futilely spin!
To the hall, I'll hie; not turn back from there.
My heart is set, the purse, my arm will bear.
Doughty I go to face that snook djinn.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Telemachus 1
Oh, dear, he cried, it's not concomitant!
It is only snooker, a tournament!
Shots I will pocket down the long green baize
And all my opponents sore, them amaze.
But best of all, I'll win, not lose a cent.
It is only snooker, a tournament!
Shots I will pocket down the long green baize
And all my opponents sore, them amaze.
But best of all, I'll win, not lose a cent.
Nestor 2
The prize, you see, is power, precious love.
Its purse will fit like this inside your glove.
Of course there's risk, sadly, I am aware.
But with such prospect, must you take good care.
So hit the pocket, Heaven's gate above!
Its purse will fit like this inside your glove.
Of course there's risk, sadly, I am aware.
But with such prospect, must you take good care.
So hit the pocket, Heaven's gate above!
What I especially like about publishing a Blog and hate about it, too, is that I can forever indulge the editor within. Nothing is ever cast in eternal type, nothing finished. I am contantly changing a vowel here and adding a syllable there, completely altering the effect of the limerick.
When I tell my readers the good news of my latest emendation, they couldn't care less. They remember my limericks the way they remember yesterday's lunch; it was good while it lasted. Then, they move on; they change the subject. A limerick has as much staying power as its punch line, and jokes, as everyone knows, have the shelf life of a piece of naan. It's measured in hours.
This is rather dispiriting, but marshall on, I will. The lot of the artist is to remain committed to his/her craft. I will write on, MacDuff; I will not flag in my calling--one limerick a day, or so, is my goal.
For those of you who follow the developments of this blog in breathless anticipation, let me assure you. Though my posts are irregular at the moment, I am writing every day. In fact, I am writing an epic in limerick form. If Shakespeare, Sidney and Spenser can write their sonnet sequences, I can write a series of linked limericks, justifying the ways of men to broads.
When I tell my readers the good news of my latest emendation, they couldn't care less. They remember my limericks the way they remember yesterday's lunch; it was good while it lasted. Then, they move on; they change the subject. A limerick has as much staying power as its punch line, and jokes, as everyone knows, have the shelf life of a piece of naan. It's measured in hours.
This is rather dispiriting, but marshall on, I will. The lot of the artist is to remain committed to his/her craft. I will write on, MacDuff; I will not flag in my calling--one limerick a day, or so, is my goal.
For those of you who follow the developments of this blog in breathless anticipation, let me assure you. Though my posts are irregular at the moment, I am writing every day. In fact, I am writing an epic in limerick form. If Shakespeare, Sidney and Spenser can write their sonnet sequences, I can write a series of linked limericks, justifying the ways of men to broads.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Sleepers awake! Sleep leads to destruction
Of society, civilization.
What's its essence: ethics, capitalism
Global free trade, fiscal socialism?
Early birds get the worm. Life is action!
____________________________________________________
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Around the globe, people of all nations
Depend for transport on gas power'd engines.
The oil companies are not in a cabal.
Our emptied wallets they want; that is all.
The transaction's cancelled. Insufficient funds.
_________________________________________________
"Nancy! A wolf's around every corner!"
Her mother, wistfully, tried to warn her.
"Mum I, too, would like a German dragoon!
You can't have all the fun! a sordid boon!"
A Wolf of her own, single Nan's dream--er!
___________________________________________
Saturday, April 28, 2007
There was a husband Ev'rett who inquired
Of Edith, his wife. In their RAV, he desired
A trip out west on roads quite contorted.
On one condition, she then retorted,
"Come home before YOUR warranty's expired!"
_______________________________________________
Friday, April 27, 2007
I, too, once drove through a bright rainbow base.
With a Swede, my friend, I hadn’t seen his face
For seventeen years. We kept in touch through mail.
Christmas and Easter, sporadic with some fail.
And the years vanished quickly, without trace.
Then one year at my door, arrived Lars, this friend.
We drove to Jasper for a long weekend.
Four nights in the mountains, we hiked the whole way.
At breakfast ate omelettes that lasted all day,
An unhealthy way to eat without end.
Then one pourin' rain even, the year’s short night,
Lightning shot cross the highway. What a flight!
From Jasper to Edmonton, a gal was singin’
A heart-torn tune, Bob James’ “Storm Warnin.’”
It caused us to take note and take delight!
The wipers slapping, the downpour astral;
Overhead right in front astronomical,
Charged with ions, unleashed electricity.
Stars fused broke forth, we faced eternity.
If we survived to our God we'd be thrall.
Up ahead we could not believe our eyes
Storm clouds recoiling there in the dark skies,
A shaft of light, divine toward us drew
The rainbow’s end, its colours we drove through.
What a thing to wow, two middle-aged guys.
A pot of gold certainly we did find
A life memory remains in the mind.
Many years after, we recall this yet.
My friend and I this trip, we can’t forget.
A thirst for God in our two hearts designed.
___________________________________________
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
There's a new planet for suburban liv'n.
At twentyfive light years, you're flow'n not driv'n.
The speed's incredible, thousands of Gee's.
Remove watches, empty all pockets please!
It's cold commut'n; you're crygenically frizzen!
Sleepers awake! Sleep leads to destruction
Of society, civilization.
What's its essence: ethics, capitalism
Global free trade, fiscal socialism?
Early birds get the worm. Life is action!
____________________________________________________
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Around the globe, people of all nations
Depend for transport on gas power'd engines.
The oil companies are not in a cabal.
Our emptied wallets they want; that is all.
The transaction's cancelled. Insufficient funds.
_________________________________________________
"Nancy! A wolf's around every corner!"
Her mother, wistfully, tried to warn her.
"Mum I, too, would like a German dragoon!
You can't have all the fun! a sordid boon!"
A Wolf of her own, single Nan's dream--er!
___________________________________________
Saturday, April 28, 2007
There was a husband Ev'rett who inquired
Of Edith, his wife. In their RAV, he desired
A trip out west on roads quite contorted.
On one condition, she then retorted,
"Come home before YOUR warranty's expired!"
_______________________________________________
Friday, April 27, 2007
I, too, once drove through a bright rainbow base.
With a Swede, my friend, I hadn’t seen his face
For seventeen years. We kept in touch through mail.
Christmas and Easter, sporadic with some fail.
And the years vanished quickly, without trace.
Then one year at my door, arrived Lars, this friend.
We drove to Jasper for a long weekend.
Four nights in the mountains, we hiked the whole way.
At breakfast ate omelettes that lasted all day,
An unhealthy way to eat without end.
Then one pourin' rain even, the year’s short night,
Lightning shot cross the highway. What a flight!
From Jasper to Edmonton, a gal was singin’
A heart-torn tune, Bob James’ “Storm Warnin.’”
It caused us to take note and take delight!
The wipers slapping, the downpour astral;
Overhead right in front astronomical,
Charged with ions, unleashed electricity.
Stars fused broke forth, we faced eternity.
If we survived to our God we'd be thrall.
Up ahead we could not believe our eyes
Storm clouds recoiling there in the dark skies,
A shaft of light, divine toward us drew
The rainbow’s end, its colours we drove through.
What a thing to wow, two middle-aged guys.
A pot of gold certainly we did find
A life memory remains in the mind.
Many years after, we recall this yet.
My friend and I this trip, we can’t forget.
A thirst for God in our two hearts designed.
___________________________________________
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
There's a new planet for suburban liv'n.
At twentyfive light years, you're flow'n not driv'n.
The speed's incredible, thousands of Gee's.
Remove watches, empty all pockets please!
It's cold commut'n; you're crygenically frizzen!
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