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Limericks II - Nature and Animals

Limericks II - Nature Poems and Animal Poems Dot Spotted by Michael R. Burch There once was a leopardess, Dot, who indignantly answered: "I’ll not! The gents are impressed with the way that I’m dressed. I wouldn’t change even one spot!" Clyde Lied! by Michael R. Burch There once was a mockingbird, Clyde, who bragged of his prowess, but lied. To his new wife he sighed, "When again, gentle bride?" "Nevermore!" bright-eyed Raven replied. The Dromedary and the Very, Very Work-Wary Canary by Michael R. Burch There once was a dromedary who befriended a crafty canary. Budgie said, "You can’t sing, but now, here’s the thing— just think of the tunes you can carry!" The Mallard by Michael R. Burch The mallard is a fellow whose lips are long and yellow with which he, honking, kisses his bawdy, boisterous mistress: my pond’s their loud bordello! The Platypus by Michael R. Burch The platypus, myopic, is ungainly, not erotic. His feet for bed are over-webbed, and what of his proboscis? The platypus, though, is eager although his means are meager. His sight is poor; perhaps he’ll score with a passing duck or beaver. Don’t ever hug a lobster by Michael R. Burch Don’t ever hug a lobster when you meet one on the street; If you hug a lobster to your breast, you're apt to lose a teat! If you hug a lobster lower down, it’ll snip away your privates! If you hug a lobster higher up, it’ll leave your cheeks with wide vents! So don’t ever hug a lobster when you meet one on the street, But run away and hope your frenzied feet are very fleet! Generation Gap by Michael R. Burch A quahog clam, age 405, said, “Hey, it’s great to be alive!” I disagreed, not feeling nifty, babe though I am, just pushing fifty. Note: A quahog clam found off the coast of Ireland is the longest-lived animal on record, at an estimated age of 405 years. Lance-Lot by Michael R. Burch Preposterous bird! Inelegant! Absurd! Until the great & mighty heron brandishes his fearsome sword. Happily Never After (the Second Curse of the Horny Toad) by Michael R. Burch He did not think of love of Her at all frog-plangent nights, as moons engoldened roads through crumbling stonewalled provinces, where toads (nee princes) ruled in chinks and grew so small at last to be invisible. He smiled (the fables erred so curiously), and thought bemusedly of being reconciled to human flesh, because his heart was not incapable of love, but, being cursed a second time, could only love a toad’s... and listened as inflated frogs rehearsed cheekbulging tales of anguish from green moats... and thought of her soft croak, her skin fine-warted, his anemic flesh, and how true love was thwarted. Huntress by Michael R. Burch after Baudelaire Lynx-eyed, cat-like and cruel, you creep across a crevice dropping deep into a dark and doomed domain. Your claws are sheathed. You smile, insane. Rain falls upon your path, and pain pours down. Your paws are pierced. You pause and heed the oft-lamented laws which bid you not begin again till night returns. You wail like wind, the sighing of a soul for sin, and give up hunting for a heart. Till sunset falls again, depart, though hate and hunger urge you—"On!" Heed, hearts, your hope—the break of dawn. Dog Daze: Poems for and about Man's Best Friend Dog Daze by Michael R. Burch Sweet Oz is a soulful snuggler; he really is one of the best. Sometimes in bed he snuggles my head, though he mostly just plops on my chest. I think Oz was made to love from the first ray of light to the dark, but his great love for me is exceeded (oh gee!) by his Truly Great Passion: to Bark. Epitaph for a Lambkin by Michael R. Burch for Melody, the prettiest, sweetest and fluffiest dog ever Now that Melody has been laid to rest Angels will know what it means to be blessed. Amen Wickett by Michael R. Burch Wickett, sweet Ewok, Wickett, old Soul, Wicket, brave Warrior, though no longer whole... You gave us your All. You gave us your Best. You taught us to Love, like all of the Blessed Angels and Saints of good human stock. You barked the Great Bark. You walked the True Walk. Now Wickett, dear Child and incorrigible Duffer, we commend you to God that you no longer suffer. May you dash through the Stars like the Wickett of old and never feel hunger and never know cold and be reunited with all our Good Tribe — with Harmony and Paw-Paw and Mary beside. Go now with our Love as the great Choir sings that Wickett, our Wickett, has at last earned his Wings! The Resting Place by Michael R. Burch for Harmony Sleep, then, child; you were dearly loved. Sleep, and remember her well-loved face, strong arms that would lift you, soft hands that would move with love’s infinite grace, such tender caresses! When autumn came early, you could not stay. Now, wherever you wander, the wildflowers bloom and love is eternal. Her heart’s great room is your resting place. Await by the door her remembered step, her arms’ warm embraces, that gathered you in. Sleep, child, and remember. Love need not regret its moment of weakness, for that is its strength, And when you awaken, she will be there, smiling, at the Rainbow Bridge. Bed Head, or, the Ballad of Beth and her Fur Babies by Michael R. Burch When Beth and her babies prepare for “good night” sweet rituals of kisses and cuddles commence. First Wickett, the eldest, whose mane has grown light with the wisdom of age and advanced senescence is tucked in, “just right.” Then Mary, the mother, is smothered with kisses in a way that befits such an angelic missus. Then Melody, lambkin, and sweet, soulful Oz and cute, clever Xander all clap their clipped paws and follow sweet Beth to their high nightly roost where they’ll sleep on her head (or, perhaps, her caboose). Keywords/Tags: limerick, nonsense, light verse, humor, humorous, silly, nature, animals, leopard, spots, mockingbird, raven, platypus, mallard, duck, canary, dromedary, budgie, bird, camel, dog, dogs

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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