Last year I tried to write one limerick per week just to start writing again and to see what would happen. Limericks are tricky because the form is simple, and its simplicity makes it difficult to write well. But like all writing, time and revision are key to success. Here are a few of mine.
They say brevity is the soul of wit,
but what if the real soul is spit?
You can’t trust a quick retort
to find its mark, no matter how short.
But spit will always make the hit.
Things aren’t free in life.
Everything has a cost–be it money or strife.
I tried to buy happiness yesterday,
but it turned out I couldn’t pay
because the cost was my wife.
I can’t find words to express
the depth of your worthlessness.
You make my muscles ache
and my mind break,
but you won’t fix this mess.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Don’t ask about it.
Pretend it doesn’t smell
when you know very well
it’s all you can do not to vomit.
First and foremost
identify the host
to corner the haunted thoughts
suffering through the onslaughts
from the unidentified ghost.
Sometimes I dream of paradoxical things:
elderly children, icy flames, poor kings.
I cannot always tell the difference between
a memory and a stolen dream,
so my life seems made of opposing strings.