Poetry is like making a joke. If you get one word wrong at the end of a joke, you’ve lost the whole thing.–W.S. Merwin
Amanda at Wittingshire posted this (broken) limerick a few weeks ago.I don’t know the author, but it sounds like my poetical attempts, only more clever.
There was an old man from Milan,
Whose limericks never would scan.
When told this was so,
He said, “Yes, I know.
But I always try to get as many syllables into the last line as I possibly can.
April is National Poetry Month, and I intend to give you a gift this month: a poem a day. If I miss a day, forgive me. If my poetical selections displease you, again forgive. If you enjoy deceptively simple poetry and light verse that’s not always so light and meaning cloaked in the language of poetry, you might have a good time celebrating Poetry Month with me.
today is the day I get paid for all of the plans that I’ve made the market will tank, our prospects all rank, and none else but ourselves to be praised.