|No rhyming allowed|
Its views are distorted and bent.
No rhyming, no scanning –
What else are they banning?
Litfic is their furthest extent.
(LF. The University of Kent issued proscriptive guidelines for its creative writing course, nixing poems that rhyme and scan.)
There is an old fellow named Farage
Whose anti-Romanian barrage
Reflects a deep fear
That foreigners here
Are all out to squat in his garage.
(Mick Twister @twitmericks)
There once was a [person] from [place]
Whose [body part] was [special case].
When [event] would occur,
It would cause [him or her]
To violate [laws of time/space]!
This limerick goes in reverse
Unless I'm remiss
The neat thing is this:
If you start from the bottom-most verse
This limerick's not any worse.
There was a composer named Liszt,
Who from writing could never desiszt.
He made polonaises
Quite worthy of praises,
And now that he?s gone he is miszt.
There once was a choleric colonel
Whose oaths were obscene and infolonel,
And the chaplain, aghast,
Gave up protest at last,
But wrote them all down in his jolonel.
There was a young curate of Kew
Who kept a tom cat in a pew;
He taught it to speak
But it never got farther than µ.
The Marquis de Sade and Genet
Are most highly thought of today;
But torture and treachery
Are not my sort of lechery,
So I've given my copies away. (WH Auden)
My name it is Aleister Crowley,
I'm a master of Magick unholy,
Of philtres and pentacles,
Of basil, nepenthe, and moly.
A dozen, a gross, and a score
Plus three times the square root of four
Divided by seven
Plus five times eleven
Is nine squared and not a bit more.
There was an old man of Peru
Who found a large rat in his stew
said the waiter, “Don’t shout,
or wave it about,
or the rest will be wanting one too!”More here.