July 14, 2011
Limericks are meant to be obscene, or at the very least, scurrilous. The strong ‘message’ and the clunky rhyme pattern make them a very particular form of poetry. One could not, I think, write a moving or sensitive limerick; that’s a different KOF, to be poured into a sonnet or free verse.
But where the expressed views of a public figure seem crude and somehow thoughtless, the limerick is the best form of poetry there is. Here’s one about the current Leader of the Opposition in Australia, Mr Tony Abbott, whose political position on climate change seems to be entirely based on crude populism. (Not that Julia Gillard’s government is a shining example of The Mind Made Flesh, but still…)
And I promise not to do the limerick thing again for a while. Please excuse double spacing; for some reason my computer ‘does this’ sometimes, and won’t listen to reason. Which actually seems appropriate for this little poem‘s subject.
There once was a leader called Abbott
who criticised just as a habit.
The climate did fry
and he couldn’t say why
which bemused this nay-saying maggot.
July 11, 2011
Spiky camel hump, buried in sand.
Alien artichoke, Martian’s lunch.
I’m told to admire your
‘architectural qualities’. As if
we build houses of needles,
like one of those three little pigs
gone crazy, his brain curling,
dizzy, to match pale gimlet tail.
could blow you down?
Crooked eyes only, crave cacti.
Yet, every few years, you explode
into a neon gown of Brazilian hues
pulsating, pink or gold, as at Mardi Gras.
When poor become princes,
and thin desert blooms.
Just published in The Mozzie, Queensland