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Tinker

Dedicated to the old PMO

7 posts in this topic

I thought this was lost in the crash and burn, but found it tucked away in with other poems "to finish" on my comuter.

 

Forum Limericks

 

Aleksandra was known to like cake

it was sweets that would give her an ache

so her boyfriend conspired

a grill he acquired

at their café she now orders steak.

 

In our group is a lady named nia

she writes poetry, sweet panacea

the folks are beguiled

but don’t get her riled

to test her is one bad idea

 

Now summayyah is young and alert

a heart we don’t want to have hurt

should her young man aspire

her heart to acquire

he must first wine and dine with dessert.

 

And our English contingent Frank E

with poetic, historic decree

is quick to write tomes

with Grimm’s little gnomes

and a boon to this board, all agree

 

The Marshall in town we call Linda

she patrols with her heart in the wind-a

she’s quick on the draw

to give a hurrah

and her poetry ’s pure disciplined-a

 

Now it’s Nick who will hate to be rhymed

but its better than he being slimed

a master at lyric

I’d say hemispheric

and his comments are always well timed

 

It’s Barooba you’ll find at the pub

he performs while he’s eating his grub

his language is strong

even said to be wrong

so we keep him in line with a club.

 

There is Blog-jamb who’s mastered the sonnet

writes of presidents, love and her bonnet

his tomes he could sell

like his sweet Villanelle

with the praise that is lavished upon it.

 

It' a Badger, the bard in clear color

his work gives a smile or a cry, it’s a muller

creator of form

all you ladies I warn

he is charming, disarming, a luller

 

A gent from the south is our Rhyme Guy

he is gracious and wise in his bow-tie

he is willing to learn

any technical term

and observes from his heart with a kind-eye

 

It is Lake that can calm us with Zen

as serenity flows from her pen

she will rest for a while

’neath the tree with the smile

then she’ll write us a haiku again.

 

Now it’s Jonathan’s tats that intrigue me

do they match the great art of his poetry?

When the seagulls fly west

are they inked on his chest?

Is he Carlo or Seagull, who is he?

 

There’s a doctor or con-man among us.

his poems are thoughtful and righteous

so is this a scam

at least it’s not spam

just enjoy and you’ll see, he’s ominous.

 

In Manila there is Joel writing verse,

with words fluid and true, never terse.

In a world set apart

on an island of art

he sends poems into space for the universe.

 

Anastasia’s a poet of merit we do find

just beyond the pooled light unconfined

her words come alive

like a buzzing beehive

from her verse, pollinating your mind

 

At four in the morning you’ll find Larsen

but don’t fret, he’s not planning an arson

he simply can’t sleep

and he just won’t count sheep

he writes verse that’s approved by a parson.

 

A guy from Rhode Island is Tony

it’s his work that rings true, never phony

he steps up to the plate

to write is his fate

And his images sing of life’s testimony

 

So, what do I do with til’sover?

I wish that he hailed from Dover.

he drove a blue truck

in the rain and the muck

and he fished from a meadow of clover.

 

It is Wistful who lives in the barn

she can spin a delightful turned yarn

it’s her ship coming in

if wrecked, its a sin

then she’d swim to shore wet, no, oh darn!

 

The Portuguese offer us J T

Picasso can’t rival his creativity

an artist so fair

paints with words bare

and the fire he sings us, proclivity.

 

The Monster’s a young one with edge

but to tame his panache he does pledge

he’s on the right track

and we all have his back

a fence when he steps on the ledge.

 

Manoel, a young friend from Brazil

will make film and write ads for a meal

he divides him from Him

on a creative whim

his talent and charm seals the deal.

 

Now aureryr has me stumped

from this series I almost bumped

rolls out in barrels

ignoring the perils

but I hate to see anyone dumped.

 

A man on a mission is Grasshopper

now, I know he could tell us a whopper

but he simply tells tales

a flight he unveils

I listen as if I an eavesdropper

 

Our Canadian Miss Ivy, I think is a shy one

yet she shares poems with us in the bright sun

her images all brand new

she prays twice, you can too

the inkblots congeal and her poem is done.

 

The Canuck we adore we call Fader

he’s the opposite of the dread Darth Vader

with his brother he fishes

and he grants us 3 wishes

his tomes are eclectic, a poetic crusader

 

About Anna who lives in between

twixt what and what does she mean?

images seen through a lens

scribed with her colorful pens

she displays observations, she’s keen.

 

And then there is Douglas from Cape Town

like a cutter of diamonds for a crown

his poems are sharp

like the strings of a harp

his words sing with the zing of a hoedown.

 

There’s spauldhr the poet from France.

with tomes choreographing a dance.

to want is to haunt

and maybe to flaunt

the music of words is not by chance

 

A Frenchman who goes by busard

a funny dodo who landed here hard

now sits on a bench

sings of love in French

and is welcome to play in our yard.

 

(the funny dodo is busard’s expression not mine)

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This poem cheered me up very much.

As I was reading along....

I was wondering if I was going to be mentioned.....

thank you herz.png for the compliment !

It brought back a lot of fond memories of people.....

and their various personalities quirks that we so enjoyed during the stint....

It's a long poem......but it was kind of sad that the poem had to end too......

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Thank you, Tink. These bring back memories!

 

Tony icon_smile.gif

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Ahh yes, this brings back memories! Thanks Judi!!!

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That was cute Tink!

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tink your grandchild is cute and adoreable. and hese limericks bring back memories judi. take care.

 

victor aka as larsen my pen name

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Hello Tink, glad to have the chance to add to the appreciation of your work here and thank you for my mention carried over to the new forum. Frank

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