Melpomene found me on the interwebs this morning with a rather unusual request. Help me, said she, with my professor’s behest!
“I need”, quoth she, ” finality.”
“This limerick must do the trick. It must be grave, with meaning thick.
So far this thing’s defying sense, and I find it hard to recompense.
I know not what I even mean, I think I’m rhyming with sense quite lean…”
“Slow down, Slow down! dear friend. ” I said. “What do you mean, a serious limerick? Who ever heard of a serious limerick? Do you have a topic? Is it necessary to use a certain word? What’s the assignment FOR?!”
This naturally caused a bit of confusion. Melpomene answered in order. 1) I know, I know. 2) Nobody. 3) Anything. 4) No. 5) My professor is very good at it, and it is an exercise in rhyme and meter. I can’t seem to find a final line for this; it is besting me. Everything sounds a bit silly and that is making me even sillier.
We finished her poem with very little difficulty. Sometimes another brain refreshes the perspective. Melpomene’s unparalleled ear for the music of sounds led her to finish her limerick with a formidable series of fricatives concluding with a sibilant hiss.
In the long ago days of forgotten time,
When the augurs and lore of traditional rhyme,
Roam’d free on the loam
And sailed on the foam,
The fair fey of the fields then were sublime!
What a dollop of fun that added to my day! I leapt to the challenge of writing a serious limerick and I whipped one off that was straddling the line between hilarious and serious.
She sat at her desk on a callThinking, at least I don’t work at a mallIf only mankindWeren’t such an ass’s behind!I blame it on Eve and the Fall.
Surely the fun’s not over yet! It’s a long way to the weekend, the overcast skies are already two weeks old with no reprieve predicted. I’m hungry and that limerick was autobiographical.
Prolong this entertainment! I begged for another.
Blitz poetry! Melpomene and I have played this before. We’re very good.
There once was a poet named Bob.
Who abhored alliteration like a slob.He hemed and he hawed,Tried failure and fraud,
Still his lines lingered long with laud.
The Ship in the ocean is sunkThe prayers of the saints and the monkAscended to GodAtheists hemmed and they haw’dBecause holiness gave them a funk.
Then my friend left to take care of her day. But Terpsichore started talking about Hipster Aliens. What a funny thought! I commemorated it with one final limerick.
Believers looked up toward on highAnd awaited the great by and byThe hoped to liveSo they could giveDNA to the aliens from the sky.