There once was a writer doggerel
Whose writing sounded as if you should gargle.
Rhymes and diphthongs
The words never got along
Sounding like the speech of a mongrel.
There once was a writer doggerel
Whose writing sounded as if you should gargle.
Rhymes and diphthongs
The words never got along
Sounding like the speech of a mongrel.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There once was a writer of poems
Who had a side job fixing homes.
While making a repair
He tore pants and underwear
And displayed a couplet best left alone.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There one day was a poet of the absurd
Who one day gave her word.
She’d tell it straight one day
Come what May
Or the one day she became a bird.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There once was a writer of verse
Who had a wish so perverse.
He put pen to paper
And hoped he’d become Satyr,
But what he became was even much worse.
He had hooves, horns, and some hide
Enough to frighten his would-be bride.
When he glanced in the mirror,
He couldn’t have looked any queerer
Even with the nannies by his side.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There once was a writer of puns
who was forever and a day on the run.
English teachers in pursuit,
they felt he was in cahoots
with a jailer, a brailler, and a nun.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There once was a writer from Spain
Whose career was going down the drain.
His wife was Basque
And a plumber whose task
Had been to keep him afloat with no pain.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There once was a poet from Shanghai
Who wanted to give limericks a try.
But instead of sounding naughty
Or even slightly bawdy,
They sounded like the code of a spy.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There once was a writer of note
Whose writing barely kept him afloat.
Good and bad
He was a naughty nautical lad.
His body of work had taken on some bloat.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author
There once was a writer from St. Paul
Who was sure he could write it all:
Poetry or prose,
Essays about his toes.
But his tax checks always had a shortfall.
Filed under 2019, Monday morning writing joke, poetry by author