Now that Mother’s Day has come and gone, let’s look into something a bit more musical. Everyone seems to love music of one sort or another, so why don’t we all try to enjoy some music related limericks.
The title of the post tells you everything you need to know. I love wordplay, making puns, finding palindromes, and using words that are rarely heard anymore. Word play can be fun and here are a few fun facts for your files.
Do you know how to tell the difference between morons, imbeciles, and Idiots? Morons – IQ 51 to 70, Imbeciles – IQ 26 to 50, and Idiots – IQ 0-25.
The words tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous are the only four words in the modern English language that end in “dous”.
There are no words that rhyme with orange.
If “off” means to deactivate, what happens when the alarm goes off?
Dr. Seuss is credited with the first use of the word “nerd” in print, from his 1950 book If I Ran the Zoo.
The word “Mountweazels” concerns spurious entries or fake words used to catch copyright cheaters.
The term “Tattarrattat” was coined by James Joyce in his novel Ulysses for a knock on the door. It also happens to be the longest palindrome in the Oxford English Dictionary.
“The sixth sick sheik’s sixth sheep is sick” is said to be the toughest tongue twister in the English language.
These six words have no accepted singular forms. Pajamas, Shorts, Jeans, Tights, Trousers, and Glasses.
“Floccinaucinihilipilification” is the longest real word (29 letters) in the Oxford English Dictionary.
I’ll keep searching for more of these and as I find them, I’ll post them. Language can be fun in so many ways. How cool is it to use the language properly to insult some clueless person who insists on irritating you and them not realizing what you meant.
Poetry is an enigma to me. I wouldn’t know good poetry if my life depended on it and even the bad poetry that I sometimes see doesn’t sound so bad. Anything that confuses me like that makes it impossible for me to take it too seriously. After a recent Bad Poetry Post, I received a few e-mails with samples from some of my readers. I assume they sent them because they thought they were bad, I don’t really know, so you figure it out. I think the first one was sent to me because I’m from Maine and someone thought I might be interested in Moose poetry. Good luck with that one. Here it is . . .
A moose is like a bull on stilts With a silly kind of head. And if one of them sat on you You’d probably be dead.
Do you really think that’s bad poetry? It seems okay to me but nothing special. It’s a little bit of truth with a little bit of silliness. Here’s the next one which I really don’t understand about a Toad. It’s a little weird but kind of funny. It seems more like a limerick than poetry but when you get right down to it there isn’t much of a difference.
The story that is told By a severely flattened toad, Is of evidential failure In attempts to cross the road.
This next poem hits home for me primarily due to my advanced age and secondly because it brings back memories of my favorite grandmother who passed away a very long time ago. See what you think.
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Of love and marriage who can say, which way these things can go. A loving wife, a shrieking hag, no one will ever know.
The years of youth have come and gone, with memories good and bad. The happiness of family, the love of mom and dad.
The years should teach you something, or so we’re always told. Remain yourself no matter what, and mellow when your old.
Your life is filled with happiness, and sorrows big and small, But not until your old and gray, will you understand it all.
It is a shame that through the years, this knowledge lies unused. Erring and blundering again and again, with help and advice refused.
So, think about the elder ones, grandmothers, grandfathers and such, Who’ve experienced life’s many problems, and could help you oh so much.
Their days are few in number, and once their gone it’s sad. Accept their help and listen close, to the experiences that they’ve had.
And when they’ve gone, you’ll think of them the way they used to be. The memories are all you have, but that’s enough you see.
No matter what day of the week or month of the year, there’s always time for some of Mr. Asimov’s finely crafted limericks. These will tend to be a bit more off-color than the ones I usually post so keep your kids and prudish spouses clear. This is a really good way to kick off your week. Here we go . . .
Today we’ll be introduced to what might be called something less than a romantic love poem. For those of you out there who worship at the steps of classical poetry, I apologize. I like my poetry a little more down to earth and accented with a bit of humor, be it erotic or rude, you decide. This was written some years ago, but it took a long time for me to actually decide to blog it. Anyone who knows me from that time will understand the fun of it, I hope.
Most of you readers enjoy the limericks I post but even more seem to enjoy the limericks created by kids. Here are a few more selections for your amusement.
As someone who’s crazy for limericks of all kinds, I thought I’d introduce a new contributor to this blog. The name is John Ciardi, and he was a close friend of Isaac Azimov, my favorite limerick author. They partnered up back in the 70’s and wrote a book of their limericks. It was a limerick war between the two as part of their competitive friendship. I’ve blogged many of Azimov’s limericks and I think it’s only fair to give Mr. Ciardi equal time. Here are a few of his gems.
everyuselessthing.com 