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Said a poet composing a limerick
'I'll share an ice cream with my love and give him a lick'
She wrote down her rhyme
And he said 'about time,
And I'd appreciate it if we could take in a flick.'

quote by by Janice Windle
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A poet composing a Limerick
Said finding a rhyme gave him quite a kick.
He rhymed Clever with Ever
And Weather with Whether
And found that he'd written a Cork(Er)

quote by by Janice Windle
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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On Being Told That There Is No Rhyme For The Word “Limerick”

After I heard Harry’s limerick,
I found that my mind set to simmer. “Rick, ”
I said to myself,
“One might write it itself, ”
But I answered, “You’re chances are slimmer, Rick! ”

So I can’t find a good rhyme for Limerick.
Told myself, “ You are just a beginner, Rick
And though there’s no reason
You can’t write something decent,
I fancy your chances get grimmer, Rick! ”

He said that it might rhyme with turmeric
But I thought, “You’re not that fast a learner, Rick:
Ditch your thoughts wasting time
Finding suitable rhyme;
Let your plans, man, stand on the back burner, Rick.”

But the cogwheels had started to turn a bit
As I guessed I had started to learn a bit
And I might find a line
That rhymes Limerick fine
And might win me a prize, so I earn a bit.

But I thought, “Though there was just a glimmer, Rick.
You will think till you’re needing a zimmer, Rick,
Since the muse isn’t kind,
I am sure you’ll will find
Not a word that will rhyme fine with Limerick.”

poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Limerick?

A poem presenting with rhyme
and which follows a rhythm in time
need not be what we call
a true Limerick at all
like a lemon, the cousin of lime.

Yet a limerick a lemon can be,
you could use a small slice for your tea.
Do not use it in fudge
and respect that the judge
is the man with no writing degree.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Custard Creams

There's always time for a custard cream,
Taken at any point of the day;
With milk or tea,
There's always time for a custard cream,
Advice taken, or given,
Take a moment,
To share the delights
With coffee, or juice.
There's always time for a custard cream;
Share it,
Break it,
Dunk it!
There's always one more time
For that
Last custard cream.

© 2012

poem by Nick Strong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clerihews

I
Edmund Clerihew Bentley
lampooned illuminati intently:
his quatrains on names, with a closing flick,
liberated burlesque from limerick.

II
Ezra Loomis Pound
wrote cantos polyglot and profound:
cognoscenti find them tinglish,
even some collaged in English.

poem by William F Dougherty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of A Rhyming Man

I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
This modern verse too much for me it's way above my head
Though modern poets are now the rage and Rhyme is with the dead.

I love the sound of rhyming words, I love the verse that rhyme
To blank or free or non rhyme verse prefer it every time
And there's many who will disagree and most will say I'm wrong
But give me ballad or rhyme verse or good old rhyming song.

You may say I am limited and with you most will agree
That I'm not into modern verse of twenty first century
But I've been an old style rhyming man since nineteen seventy three
And I am in my sixties now and there's no changing me.

I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
And I am guilty of no sin and I can't see no crime
In liking sound of rhyming verse and loving words that rhyme

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Good Lord Watches Over Poets And Fools

The good Lord watches over poets and fools
Not exactly one of life’s little rules
Now which one do I happen to be?
Give me a minute and you shall see
I know it’s not cool
To be called a fool
Although I consider myself a poet
There are many who don’t know it
You might consider me a foolish poet
I know this poem is silly but I wrote it
I’m having fun with this little rhyme
Although some may say I’m wasting my time
My poetic license seems to have expired
Cause this isn’t exactly what I desired
But playing with words is such great fun
And knowing they’ll often touch someone

poem by Mary Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Rhyming Poet

In his early eighties his best days long gone
But the gray haired old poet he keeps penning on
Though many see him as of another time
Sixty years as a poet and still writing in rhyme.

Though not seen as a mentor to the young poets of the town
He once was the Regional Poet Laureate and he knew of renown
When rhyme it was popular a long time ago
And his hair was as dark as the wing of a crow.

Not hard to tell he's known a far better day
The old rhyming poet that the years have left gray
It has been more than five decades since he was in his prime
Eventually we all become victims of time.

In time as in life few things do seem to last
And verses that rhyme are now seen as of the past
But to him to stop writing would be living a lie
And he will be a poet till the day that he die.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet To Be

A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.

I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.

I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.

I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.

But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.

I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.

I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.

I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.

A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.

I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.

I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.

It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.

A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.

But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.

How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.

As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.

poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Better be Poet! ! !

You should learn to share
and share this love with me

You should give me more attention
and you would have more affection

Loving for yourself is for the poet!
I am not anymore! Turned normal person!

Demanding and in debt with love!

I'm also not liking! !
I'll go back to being what i always was
letters as lovers, verses as boyfriends

then I'll leave and let you
you divide your time, shares your love
and their attention
Alone! !
Because Poet is better to be! !

poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Godzilla Flick

This is an old Godzilla flick,
This is an old Godzilla flick.
People that you love,
Are never going to say hello again.
And it's only in the movies.
This is an old Godzilla flick.
This is an old Clint Eastwood flick.
People that you love,
Shouldn't take the life out of themselves.
And it's only in the movies.
This is an old Godzilla flick.
This is an old Godzilla flick.
This is an old Godzilla flick.
And no this time I think it's really it.
And it's only in the movies.

song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing Frustrations I've Known

-It would seem, I've run out of words.
Nothing left to say.
I have lost my inner voice.
It's gone, completely astray.
Perhaps I should lay down pen and pad.
Never more write a rhyme.
On this poetry that I love
I shall spend no further time.
... not that I was ever truly a poet anyway
... it's just that, well, I did love it so;
... still, it feels the well is dry
... time to just let it go.

- So now, what of me shall be
Feeling empty in heart and head?
What purpose-without a word-shall be heard
With no way to express both hope and dread?
Where have the words gone
Must they ever stay away?
Who has taken my spirit's song
Why has the music of my soul nothing more to say?
... I try... seems of no use...
My mind torn asunder, literary abuse.

(this next part wrote a couple months later)

Listen, what do I hear?
Something is knocking at my gate!
A few months later now
But, not altogether too late.

A lonesome thought comes strolling in
From whence I cannot declare,
Just that it has arrived
With this simple message to share:

' What's a dime
To a lover of verse and rhyme,
And what's to fear
Of criticism drawing near?

For to write only for income
Would soon turn quite burdensome,
As surely as to not write for fear of ridicule
Would be to deny the voice within you.

The words may never turn a single head
But, don't dare believe they'll ever be dead!
God gives meaning to what he wants
Whether anyone else listens or not.

The way it is all spoke
By darling bards, or simple country folk,
Is well worth hearing
And so oft more than a bit endearing.

Don't worry about the rhyme
The perfect place or time,
Just give your soul in words as best you can
And those who should, will understand.

Those who don't
Just won't,
And that's o.k.
God speaks to them in other ways.

Trust his Spirit in all you do
Yes, this includes writing too,
Remember he promised he'd never leave you alone
Even in the simple words of your poems. '

-Pondering it over
I suppose this I've known all along,
Though thoughts may wander
True words are never gone.

Well, ya know what:
I believe I just might pick up paper and pen,
Good or bad, right or wrong...
Give it a go, once again!

poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rhyming Flu

It’s 1: 15 A.M.
I’m sitting here in bed;
I want to go to sleep,
But rhymes are in my head.

I just came upstairs;
I was just on the com,
Working out a poem;
For Ainaa to recite in the morn.

The problem with rhyme and I;
Is that it starts and never stops,
Remember it’s one o’clock;
But rhymes still pulse my thoughts.

So I’m writing this very rhyme;
Hoping my rhyme runs out,
But such a hope’s impossible;
When my rhymes are as abundant as trout.

I know what you all are thinking:
“This rhyme is simply a gimmick;
This boy’s not really sleepy,
He’s wide awake with this limerick.”

“This story of sleep is really;
Just some tricky plot,
To make you think he flows out rhyme;
Like water from a cracked pot.”

But, nay, it is true;
I’ve got the rhyming flu,
I’m hoping that by writing this rhyme;
All my rhymes shall be through.

Aha, I know the cure;
The medicine’s no longer obscure!
To end this awful rhyme;
I need a word that does NOT rhyme!

I’ve heard of the word before;
It’s like English’s Achilles heel,
No matter how hard you rhyme;
Its un-rhyming-ness is an iron veil.

Touché now rhyming flu;
This word I give to you!
Try rhyming the word ‘month’
…Ha-ha, you can’t now, can you! ?

The rhyming flu has left me…
I can feel it leaving my mind…
Ahhh… I am so relieved…
The clock says it’s now sleepy time...

…zZzZZZ

poem by Warren Chan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Preciseness

All this talk about ego.
When no one escapes self expression.
Isn't that what composing is?
For a poet.
And the writing of it is what gets done.
For a poet.
Who unlike critics...
Sit and wait for something tart to remark.

That could be said of most!
Certainly not for everyone.
Is this place offered to those who create.
For those who are innovative in thought.
And not scholared in debated...
Seeking to correct self expressions.
And...
Hoping to find a clue what to do with their own.
If that should happen before the ego does arrive.

All this talk about ego.
When no one escapes self expression.
Isn't that what composing is?
For a poet.

I can pretend I know it all and I know I don't.
So you get no entertaining charades from me.
However,
Expect everything you can imagine,
From those who have none!

Their preciseness is overdone.
With an overbite.
And under-rated is their aggravation.
With an unspoken wish they were out of sight.
And they would get it delivered quickly.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Like Us Will

I'm composing something special for you.
I'm composing something for you,
I'm hoping you find it magic.

I'm composing something special for you.
We know who we are,
And...
What it is we choose to do.

We know we are...
Two in love with passion.
We know we are...
Not children anymore.
And...
We know we are,
Two in love with passion.
And two like us..
Will always know it's true love.

And two like us will,
Always...
Know it's love.

And that's a miracle.
To know the two of us will always,
Know love.
And two like us will,
Always...
Know it's love.

And two like us will,
Always...
Know it's love.

And two like us will,
Always...
Know it's love.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Small Need...

Let me write some poems
Let me be a poet.
Give me a pen,
Give me a paper,
And give me a few thoughts.
Let the world know me a lot
Let me be a clot.
Give my poems a rhyme
Give them a rhythum too.
And give me a name.
Let my poems be recited by all
Let my lines be quoted by the world.
Give me your fingers
Give me your mind as well.
Let me too be a poet.

poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Me Share My Love With You

Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me give you slippers so that you do not walk along barefooted.

Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me cloth you with the muse of love so that you do not walk around naked.

Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me give you enough food so that you do not go hungry.

Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me give you enough water so that you do not go thirsty.

Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me take care of you under my shelter so that you do not become homeless.

Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me share my money with you so that you do not become penniless.

Come, and let me share my love with you;
And, let me take you around the world so that you do not become loneliness.

For this life needs the positive values of the muse of love and,
I have enough to share with you in my humble abode of peace and care.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sorry, this limerick does not rhyme
Poetry just isn't in its prime
It rhymes, how astute!
Oh really? Oh shoot!
I'll think of another next time

quote by by Chubchub Penguin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give A Little Bit

(CHORUS)
Give a little bit,
Give a little bit of your love to me.
Give a little bit,
I'll give a little bit of my love to you.
There's so much that we need to share,
So send a smile and show you care.
I give a little bit,
Give a little bit of my life for you.
So give a little bit,
Give a little bit of your time to me.
See the man with the lonely eyes,
Take his hand, you'll be surprised oh yeah.
Na na na na na na-na na-na,
Wontcha give to me baby, give some of your sweet love oh yeah.
Na na na na na na-na na-na
Give a little bit,
Give a little bit of your love to me.
I'll give a little bit,
Give a little bit of my life for you.
Now's the time that we need to share,
So find yourself, we're on our way back home Ooh, going home.
Dontcha need, dontcha need to be at home?
Ooh, we gotta see.
Na na na na na na-na na-na,
Give a little bit of love, baby, oh give a little bit.
Na na na na na na-na na-na
Woa, wontcha give to me baby give me your love.
Woa oh.
So give a little heart,
And give a little time.
Give a little love,
Ooh, give a little bit tonight.

song performed by by Open Skyz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Reading Blake's 'Little Black Boy

Two centuries or even more gone by
Since William Blake wrote 'The little black boy'
He told in verse how black skin equalled white
And in what he wrote of course the poet was right.

He wrote the famous verses at a time
When to be black was looked on as a crime
A lesson in human love perhaps one day
That others might learn from what he had to say.

His verses put him in a higher place
When he wrote of the equality of race
And in history the great poet made his mark
When he preached that white was no greater than dark.

But even in the twenty first century
Some with the Poet's views still do not agree
Some still say black is not as good as white
But of course these people live in darker light.

A lesson here for all humanity
From bard who lived in eighteenth century
That racial discrimination is unwise
As all different races equal in God's eyes.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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