A poem with language quite heinous…

Stan Carey recently ran a competition: write limericks on the theme of language. I had a few goes but didn’t win, although writing them was a pleasure in itself. These were my entries (yes, I respect you so much, dear reader, that I offer you recycled failures):

When proofreading great men of letters
Remember they think they’re your betters.
They wrote it? They meant it!
A rule broke? They ‘bent’ it!
The editors they like are stetters.

In matters linguistic and verbal
I’m often reduced to a burble
I try for a word
But it comes out absurd
Having stuck in my throat like a furball

When you’re a stylistic obsessive
You see words and get all possessive
If a line’s badly phrased
Then your hackles get raised
And your voice becomes passive-aggressive

The three winners were very good, as were plenty of the other entries. Do take a look. Oh, and here are another two, which I’ve written today, just for the hell of it (and getting a bit meta):

A young poet from Alabama
Declined to pursue fame and glamour
He sat on his arse
And decided to parse
Limericks with impeccable grammar

This ditty with language quite heinous
Is so crude it really could pain us
Its first lines allude
To an ending most rude –
But I think that it need not detain us

(See also my grammar haiku.)

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Comments

  • Maz  On September 28, 2011 at 8:05 pm

    Are you referring to Bob Marley – Girl I want to make your sweat? We were playing it in the office today?

  • jams o donnell  On September 29, 2011 at 12:02 am

    To you are a master of the grammatical rhyme!

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