Wednesday, May 16, 2012

poetry

There once were six children all whining
In spite of their mother's insane crying
That they should all stop
Before she went pop
Dissolving into a vague gray shadow of herself...........

I've had this stupid non limerick stuck in my head for two years and I can't finish it or make it into anything. It just rattles around there in the back of my mind. But its a little bit better than Elphine's terrible mother's day poem.

Poppies are red.
Marigolds are orange.
Mothers are sweet.
And so are you.

"Nothing rhymes with 'orange'" I shouted, after laughing for a while. "Also, Marigolds can be yellow. Try"

Poppies are red.
Marigolds are yellow.
Mothers are sweet.
I'm wishing I had jello....
I'm feeling kind of mellow....
My voice is a kind of bellow....
I knew of a little fellow....


 Me embarrassed that I can't write a limerick. Baby Lady Elaine not surprised about it at all.

No use. I'm going to go fold laundry.
Pip Pip!

2 comments:

Kellie said...

"And yet for sweet snacks they kept pining"? That is, if you wanted to explaining what the whining was about, rather than expand on its effect. ;-)

Joyce Carlson said...

There once were six children all whining
In spite of their mother desiring
That they undertake
To give her a break
And try for a change to quit crying