Since it’s the Fourth of July I assume everyone is celebrating. I just wonder what exactly it is that they are actually celebrating. Some say it’s for the nation’s birthday, but I think in most cases that’s disingenuous. I celebrate this holiday with respect for the individuals who were responsible for the creation and continuing protection of America. That’s the extent of my feelings on the matter So . . .
HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!
I think it’s time to turn over the celebration to some worthy children and their poetry. Anything non-political is always the way to go for me. Poetry is always interesting, especially the work of younger children whose approach is often simple and powerful. Let’s go . . .
Written By Stefan Martul, Age 7, New Zealand
I feel drops of rain,
And it goes;SPLISH! SPLOSH!
On my head,
And sometimes it goes; SPLASH! BANG! CRASH!
on my coconut.
📝📝📝
Written by Hannah Hodgins, Age 11, United States
THE SACRED CLOUDS
The clouds are stuck and scared to move
For fear the trees might pinch them
✍🏻✍🏻✍🏻
Written by Geeta Mohanty, Age 13, India
PEARLS ON THE GRASS
After the beautiful rain,
The rocks shine under the sun,
Like the droplets on the cobweb
Amongst the green, green grass.
✒️✒️✒️
Written by V. Cokeham, Age 10, England
There is an umbrella
In the sky,
It must be raining
In Heaven
I have one prayer to say to God
Don’t let it rain tomorrow.
*****
“The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it.”
I’ve always thought of myself as quite the romantic but unfortunately there weren’t many women who agreed. All you really can do is accept your failings and keep on trying. I admit that after hearing ‘you’re not very romantic” a dozen or more times I finally got the message. Unfortunately, I never seemed to get it right and after discussions with other men I discovered it was quite possible that I wasn’t the entire problem. I continued to stumble along like a kid in a candy store with no pennies in his pocket. These limericks are for all of those ladies (and I use the term loosely) that didn’t appreciate my hundreds of romantic moves. These beautiful poems are a little dated, but they all have important information concerning men and women involved in “Little Romances”.
It’s time for some limerick history. As you may be aware I collect limericks from all sorts of sources. Recently I purchased a few small used books from an online thrift bookstore. Buying books in bulk is always a risk but sometimes it pays off with pleasant surprises. Today’s limericks were published in a small inconsequential book of just sixty pages in 1960. It’s been 64 years since then and many of the limericks in the book were collected from even older sources. They are officially titled “Laundered Limericks” meaning many were cleaned of obscenities to get them printed but still contain some vulgarities. I’d probably rate some of these as PG but that’s for you readers to decide.
I’m feeling somewhat indifferent today. I got up early, had a cup of really godawful coffee which is not a good way to start any day. My lack of interest was exacerbated by the few things I had to accomplish. For those of you that don’t know I drive a 2008 Smart car. It’s a small vehicle on a good day but it’s the only delivery vehicle I have. Here in Maine, we recycle bottles and cans and today was the day for me to cash in all those nickels. I checked my garage and to my surprise I had 7 large bags containing 420 bottles and cans. I then loaded up my Smart car with all seven bags. Every window in the car except for the windshield was partially blocked. I managed to fit everything into the car leaving just enough room for my oversized ass. I had to travel approximately ten miles to the redemption center, and I looked ridiculous. It’s hard to look inconspicuous when you’re driving what appears to be a giant garbage bag with headlights and a windshield. Apparently, the police officer who then stopped me thought it was hysterically funny as well. There were no citations issued but we both had a few laughs about the situation. I hadn’t broken any laws, had all of the required mirrors, and he sent me on my way by standing on the berm and laughing his ass off. Just so you know I cashed in the bottles and cans and then walked next door to the liquor store. I’ll be opening that bottle of gin later because this day has got to get better. Only limericks can raise my spirits and get my day back on track. Here’s two . . .
Since my recent post of off-color limericks was so popular I thought I’d offer up a few more cute but nonetheless dirty jokes. I guess I should have figured out by now that I’ve got to “give the people what they want.” A few dirty jokes to help you continue the celebration of this important holiday.
Q. How did Pinocchio find out he was made of wood?
A. When his hand caught on fire.
A woman answers the door to a market researcher. “Good morning, madam, I’m doing some research for Vaseline. Do you use it at all in your household?” “Oh yes, all the time. It’s very good for cuts, scrapes, and burns.” “Do you use it for anything else?” “Like what”, she asked. “Ahem. . well, during. . ahem. . sex.” “Oh, of course. Yes, I smear it on the bedroom doorknob to keep my husband out.
Men are like parking spots: The good ones are taken, and the rest are too small.
A woman is in bed with her lover, who also happens to be her husband’s best friend. They have sex for hours, and afterward while they’re just lying there, the phone rings. Since it is the woman’s house, she picks up the receiver. Her lover looks over at her and listens, only hearing her side of the conversation (she is speaking in a cheery voice). “Hello? Oh, hi, I’m so glad you called. Really? Thanks. Okay. Bye.” She hangs up the telephone and her lover asks, “Who was that?” Oh,” she replies, “that was my husband telling me all about the wonderful time he’s having on his fishing trip with you.”
It’s sunny outside. I’m not quite sure how it happened but it’s an effing miracle. I’m sitting here basking in the sun as I read through some of the thousands of limericks I have on file. Today’s limericks are not for the youngsters or those overly sensitive and chaste virgins. They were apparently written in the early 1980’s when an off-color sense of human was more acceptable. For a change these are a little bawdy but in a cute and funny way and I hope you enjoy them.
I think today the title tells you everything you need to know. Here’s a selection of poetry written by children from English-speaking countries around the world. It always makes for a really good read and often motivates me to write poetry of my own. Enjoy. . .
THE SEA
By Susan Shoenblum, Age 11, United States
The untamed sea is human
Its emotions erupt in waves,
The sea sends her message of anger
As the waves roll over my head
💌💌💌
THE SPIDER
By J. Jenkins, age 10, New Zealand
With black, wicked eyes, hairy and legs and creepy crawling movements
Black shoe polish coat shining dully,
Hairy black thin legs.
Beautiful, silky and soft web
Dew hangs like miniature diamonds on lazy fingers.
A quick movement and this monster disappears.
💌💌💌
SHADOW
By Pramila Parmar, Age 11, Kenya
My shadow is very bad and foolish
Wherever I go it follows,
I lash it, I whip it,
still, it follows me.
One day I will kick it and it will never follow me.
Here we go again with another rainy and gray day. Spring really wants to make an appearance but for some reason she’s having difficulties. The sun shines brightly for 2 hours a day broken up into 15-minute segments. The problem then becomes when you have a “freezing your ass off” moment every time a cloud goes by. Truthfully Mother Nature is really starting to piss me off.
Now let me get back to the subject. A few months ago, I purchased a pile of old used books which appear to have once been library books. I have books from libraries all over the country. One in particular is a book of limericks (mostly clean) written by some well-known authors and celebrities. See what you think.
By: Lewis Carroll
His sister named Lucy O’Finner,
Grew constantly thinner and thinner,
The reason was plain,
She slipped out in the rain,
And was never allowed any dinner.
💥💥
By: Ogden Nash
It was an old man of Calcutta,
Who coated his tonsils with butta,
Thus, converting his snore
From a thunderous roar
To a soft, oleaginous mutta.
By: Oliver Wendell Holmes
The Reverend Henry Ward Beecher
Called a hen a most elegant creature.
The Hen, pleased with that,
Laid an egg in his hat,
And thus did the hen reward Beecher.
💥💥
By: Rudyard Kipling
There was once a small boy in Québec
Stood buried in snow to his neck.
When asked: “Are you friz?”
He said: “Yes, I is,
“But we don’t call this cold in Québec.”
💥💥💥
As you can imagine I read hundreds of limericks a month but even I was taken by surprise when I read these four. Just goes to show you that even celebrated writers and authors have a real bitch of a time writing limericks. I’m sure that if of you took a few minutes, you could write better stuff than this. Only one of these four showed me something interesting and that was the one by Oliver Wendall Holmes. Read it carefully and see if you spot his clever efforts.
Do you own a cowboy hat or other articles of western clothing. The American Old West has fans around the globe as reflected in thousands of Japanese cowboys who live for the fantasy. I was a big fan at an early age when I received my first two-gun cap pistol rig. When the novelty of that wore off, I was pretty much finished with my desire to be a cowboy, so I moved on to wanting to be a professional baseball player and later still a first-class skirt chaser. I’m not wearing a cowboy hat, boots, or assless chaps but I still can offer a few limericks from the Old West.
I’m feeling the need for some limericks today. I recently came across a book that I picked up at an on-line thrift bookstore and it was a former Boise Public Library book with a date of 2015. It’s a book of limericks written by children for children and some of them are priceless. With that in mind here are four that I particularly liked. I hope you will too.
everyuselessthing.com 