ODE TO A TISSUE (and an acrostic) The faintest whiff of clean, starched sheets In white, you lie flat, stiff, well pressed, waiting as Shaking fingertips flounder, feeling for your straight, thin edge Silently you caress my face, no, you are quietly humming Unduly seasoned with salt from my tears. Eternally crumpled, rolled up in a ball, do you have any regrets? Shush, so happy to help.
Helen Frost has challenged us to write an ode poem this month, following these instructions:
Choose an object (a seashell, a hairbrush, a bird nest, a rolling
pin). It should not be anything symbolic (such as a doll, a wedding
ring, or a flag). Write five lines about the object, using a different
sense in each line (sight, sound, touch, taste, smell). Then ask the
object a question, listen for its answer, and write the question, the
answer, or both.
Click HERE to read her sample poem, "Ode to a River."
Post your poem on our March 2017 padlet.
All contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday,
March 31st, and one lucky participant will win a personalized copy of
her latest novel-in-poems from Farrar, Straus, and Giroux/Macmillan:
Helen Frost has challenged us to write an ode poem this month, following these instructions:
Choose an object (a seashell, a hairbrush, a bird nest, a rolling
pin). It should not be anything symbolic (such as a doll, a wedding
ring, or a flag). Write five lines about the object, using a different
sense in each line (sight, sound, touch, taste, smell). Then ask the
object a question, listen for its answer, and write the question, the
answer, or both.
Click HERE to read her sample poem, "Ode to a River."
Post your poem on our March 2017 padlet.
All contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday,
March 31st, and one lucky participant will win a personalized copy of
her latest novel-in-poems from Farrar, Straus, and Giroux/Macmillan:
ODE TO WIND I feel your power when fireplace ashes stir; smoke puffed in stings my nose. Window-tapping of the tree branches accompanies dog growls and cat yowls. I shiver-run for the news, taste snow in the wind. Why not the breeze of yesterday? Winter conceit.
Helen Frost has challenged us to write an ode poem this month, following these instructions:
Choose an object (a seashell, a hairbrush, a bird nest, a rolling
pin). It should not be anything symbolic (such as a doll, a wedding
ring, or a flag). Write five lines about the object, using a different
sense in each line (sight, sound, touch, taste, smell). Then ask the
object a question, listen for its answer, and write the question, the
answer, or both.
Click HERE to read her sample poem, "Ode to a River."
Post your poem on our March 2017 padlet.
All contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday,
March 31st, and one lucky participant will win a personalized copy of
her latest novel-in-poems from Farrar, Straus, and Giroux/Macmillan:
I'm afraid you won't find a single pint of beer (green or otherwise) at Today's Little Ditty, but raise your glass if you know what you will find . . .
It's been over a year since we've entertained any new ones, but as luck would have it, Carrie Clickard is here to satisfy your thirst for this looks-easy-but-isn't poetry form. She's filled her paddy wagon with a ditty-load of 'em, so let's join her for the ride, shall we? It'll be grand!
... and the first official meeting of Limerick Writers Anonymous.
There’s a rustle of shuffling feet and a surreptitious slurping of coffee as the meeting comes to order. Stepping up to a rickety podium in front of the thicket of folding chairs, a determined but ill at ease woman clears her throat and says: “Hi, my name is Carrie, and I’m a limerick writer.”
What? No chorus of comradely hello’s back? Sigh. It’s hard to find anyone who’ll stand up and proudly declare themselves a limerick writer—which is a pity for a poetic form that can count Elizabeth I, Thomas Aquinas, Aristophanes, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Rudyard Kipling and Shakespeare among its practitioners. A swift search of YouTube will also offer up limericks recited by Garrison Keillor, Michael Palin, Christopher Hitchens and even a NASA astronaut.
No, really—one of the questions on the NASA application asked astronaut candidates to describe their selection process in a tweet, a haiku or a limerick. If you watch the video you'll discover his limerick is a bit of a metrical shambles, but as a poet, how cool is it knowing that there’s one part of the astronaut’s application process we could ACE? I’m trading in my comfy sweats for a spacesuit.
So why has this once-proud five line AABBA form ended up in the doggerel house? It might have just a bit to do with content. Morris Bishop expressed the problem wittily in a limerick of his own:
The limerick is furtive and mean; You must keep her in close quarantine, Or she sneaks to the slums And promptly becomes Disorderly, drunk, and obscene.
It’s true. The limericks everyone seems to remember have lines that end in Nantucket. (No, no, I’m not going to repeat it. Look it up if you must.) But it’s not just bad behavior that gets limerick writers sneered at, it’s bad SCANSION. Time and again you find limericks limping along with scraggly line length, verb inversions, forced meter a regular rogue’s gallery of Rhyme Crime perpetrators. You’d think with only five lines it would be easy-peasy to keep rhyme crisp, clean and correct. But like a certain bishop in Hong Kong, you’d be wrong.
Researching for this post I found a surprising number of clunkers from poets whose pen I’m not worthy to touch. Like:
There is a poor sneak called Rossetti As a painter with many kicks met he With more as a man But sometimes he ran And that saved the rear of Rossetti.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
and
There was a professor named Chesterton Who went for a walk with his best shirt on Being hungry he ate it but lived to regret it and ruined his life for his digestion. W S Gilbert
Ouch. I could add a dozen more examples, but if you’ve been following along with the Rhyme Crime posts, you’re probably already diagnosing the problems and fixing them in your head. “Ate it” and “regret it” don’t rhyme, even in a Cockney accent. “Kicks met he” is an inversion you wouldn’t get away with today. The lines aren’t consistent in syllable length. And whether “best shirt on” and digestion rhyme is debatable. So if two such noted poets can slip up, can we hope to do better? We can but try, as my English teacher used to say.
Don't miss a beat
Back in the day, limericks most often used anapestic meter – two short syllables followed by a long one – three feet in lines 1, 2 and 5, and only two feet in lines 3 and 4. So:
(A) Da da dum da da dum da da dum
(A) Da da dum da da dum da da dum
(B) Da da dum da da dum
(B) Da da dum da da dum
(A) Da da dum da da dum da da dum
Anapestic verse was a favorite of Dr. Seuss, and thus holds a special place in my heart, but if it isn’t your cup of tea, that’s ok. Modern limericks can be written in your meter-of-choice but the rules still apply. Rhythm must be consistent, unforced and you need to have a uniform number of beats in rhyming lines. If you have to put the em-PHAS-is on the wrong syl-LA-ble, or swallow a syllable to make things fit, go back and rewrite. You can do better.
Now before you throw out the baby with the bathwater, remember we’re ruling out weak word choices, not the joy of wordplay. The fun Ogden Nash has in this verse is enough to make any critic overlook the one extra beat.
A wonderful bird is the pelican, His bill can hold more than his beli-can. He can take in his beak Food enough for a week But I’m damned if I see how the heli-can.
The same can be said for Mark Twain’s clever abbreviated verse. Be sure you read “Co.” as “company” and do the same at the end of lines 2 and 5 or you’ll miss the joke.
A man hired by John Smith and Co. Loudly declared that he’d tho. Men that he saw Dumping dirt by the door The drivers, therefore, didn’t do. *
Funny enough to forgive those clunky lines 3 and 4? You decide.
* Michelle here: for Twain-challenged folk like myself, read company/thump any/dump any.
Wait, is it form or funny that’s more important?
Excellent question.
This limerick is simply sublime It’s flawless in meter and rhyme. As for wit, pun or thought? It expresses but naught and to write it took acres of time. Anonymous
Like any poem, a good limerick will communicate with the reader, expressing a meaning, a feeling, or both. Whether your intent is jovial, snide, silly, bawdy, romantic or educational, if you don’t get your point across, all the reader ends up with is a collection of syllables. You’ve got five lines and a handful of syllables to do it in. Use them wisely.
Scare your readers:
Each night father fills me with dread when he sits on the foot of my bed; I’d not mind that he speaks in vile gibbers and squeaks but for seventeen years he's been dead.
Edward Gorey
Teach them something:
It filled Galileo with mirth To watch his two rocks fall to Earth. He gladly proclaimed, "Their rates are the same, And quite independent of girth!
American Physical Society contest entry
Break their hearts:
My life has become a motif of daily compassion and grief, of watching the ends of lovers and friends whose candles have been far too brief.
Lawrence Schimel From … Measure for Measure: An Anthology of Poetic Metres, edited by Annie Finch and Alexandra Oliver:
Leave them laughing:
A young girl at college, Miss Breeze, Weighted down by B.A.s and Lit.D's, Collapsed from the strain, Said her doctor, "It's plain You are killing yourself — by degrees!"
Anonymous
And we’re doing all this, why?
Clearly some good hard work and poetry chops go into limerick writing, when you’re doing it right. What are you going to do with them now that you’ve got those little witty jewels polished to perfection? Send them out into the world to earn a living, naturally.
Try the Saturday Evening Post Limerick Contest. Six times a year the
Saturday Evening Post holds a limerick contest based on one of their
iconic cover illustrations. Winners are published in the print
magazine, online and win a small cash prize. A select few talented
runners up get published on the website too, like someone we all know
and love here at Today’s Little Ditty, Ms. Michelle Heidenrich Barnes.
You can read her fabulous limerick on the Saturday Evening Post site here and learn about how to enter the contest yourself here.
And, drumroll please, if you happen to be both a limerick fan and a word nerd like me, here’s an irresistible opportunity: The Omnificent English Dictionary in Limerick Form.
Uh huh, you heard that right. Their goal is to “write at least one
limerick for each meaning of each and every word in the English
language. Our best limericks will clearly define their words in a
humorous or interesting way, although some may provide more
entertainment than definition, or vice versa.” They’re currently
working on Aa through Ge, and expect to be completed in 2076.
I am so going to do this. Maybe I’ll start with E for “Equations” like the brainiac who turned this mathematical equation into a limerick:
It’s not a trick. There IS a limerick in all those number. Here’s a little clue: Think of words we might use in place of numbers, for example people often say a “dozen” eggs instead of twelve.
Give up? (I certainly did.) So, here's the answer:
A dozen, a gross, and a score Plus three times the square root of four Divided by seven Plus five times eleven Is nine squared and not a bit more.
Jon Saxton
That’s some wicked clever thinking and some pretty mad limerick skills as well. Feeling inspired? What are you still doing here? Go on, get out there and WRITE.
Maestro? A little St. Patrick’s Day exit music please …
Carrie L. Clickard is an internationally published author
and poet. Her first picture book, VICTRICIA MALICIA, debuted in 2012 from
Flashlight Press. Forthcoming books include MAGIC FOR SALE (Holiday House, 2017), DUMPLING DREAMS (Simon and Schuster 2017) and THOMAS JEFFERSON & THE MAMMOTH HUNT (Simon and Schuster, 2018). Her poetry and short stories have appeared in numerous
anthologies and periodicals including Spider, Muse, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Havok, Myriad Lands, Clubhouse, Spellbound, Penumbra, Haiku of the Dead, Underneath the Juniper Tree, Inchoate Echoes, and The Brisling Tide.
Helen Frost has challenged us to write an ode poem this month, following these instructions:
Choose an object (a seashell, a hairbrush, a bird nest, a rolling
pin). It should not be anything symbolic (such as a doll, a wedding
ring, or a flag). Write five lines about the object, using a different
sense in each line (sight, sound, touch, taste, smell). Then ask the
object a question, listen for its answer, and write the question, the
answer, or both.
Click HERE to read her sample poem, "Ode to a River."
Post your poem on our March 2017 padlet.
All contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday,
March 31st, and one lucky participant will win a personalized copy of
her latest novel-in-poems from Farrar, Straus, and Giroux/Macmillan:
I picked you for your pinkish tone but pucker at your taste, and groan, wiping juice off of my face, inhaling tartness, but embrace the whispered promise in my ear: two sizes smaller in a year.
Helen Frost has challenged us to write an ode poem this month, following these instructions:
Choose an object (a seashell, a hairbrush, a bird nest, a rolling
pin). It should not be anything symbolic (such as a doll, a wedding
ring, or a flag). Write five lines about the object, using a different
sense in each line (sight, sound, touch, taste, smell). Then ask the
object a question, listen for its answer, and write the question, the
answer, or both.
Click HERE to read her sample poem, "Ode to a River."
Post your poem on our March 2017 padlet.
All contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday,
March 31st, and one lucky participant will win a personalized copy of
her latest novel-in-poems from Farrar, Straus, and Giroux/Macmillan:
Helen Frost has challenged us to write an ode poem this month, following these instructions:
Choose an object (a seashell, a hairbrush, a bird nest, a rolling
pin). It should not be anything symbolic (such as a doll, a wedding
ring, or a flag). Write five lines about the object, using a different
sense in each line (sight, sound, touch, taste, smell). Then ask the
object a question, listen for its answer, and write the question, the
answer, or both.
Click HERE to read her sample poem, "Ode to a River."
Post your poem on our March 2017 padlet.
All contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday,
March 31st, and one lucky participant will win a personalized copy of
her latest novel-in-poems from Farrar, Straus, and Giroux/Macmillan:
