Jungle animals for me to write limericks about!
Last week I decided that this blog has been a bit serious of late and that some silliness was in order. I thought back to before Christmas when I had fun writing limericks with (and for) my sons and decided that this week I would write some more.
Last Friday I set myself the challenge of writing prose (blogging not included) for two hours a day so I knew it was going to be hard to find any time to write anything else. Then I realised the answer was staring me in the face; if I wanted silliness, who better to turn two than my kids?! I could combine parenting with poetry and still leave time for my other writing after they were in bed!
So Sunday lunchtime saw us all sitting round the kitchen table writing limericks together. Now I’ve written that down, it sounds rather idyllic doesn’t it? A family of five, leaning back in our chairs full of beef and roast potatoes (us not the chairs) and throwing around lines to create a poetic masterpiece together… hmmm. Well if you replace ‘sunday roast’ with ‘cheese on toast’ and bear in mind that all the four-year-old’s suggestions involved bums and poos, that the baby kept up a merry assault on our eardrums at all times and that somehow everything my husband writes has an air of tragedy to it, then you’d have a much more accurate picture.
Anyway the six-year-old was keen that I write about animals. He was quite clear about which animals he wanted, which was quite a challenge, but in the end we managed to come up with the following:
A pair of athletic young peacocks
had started to learn how to kick-box
but their legs, like a chicken
got shivery while kickin’
so they had to wear pink, stripy knee socks
I know ‘their legs like a chicken’ doesn’t make grammatical sense, but then peacocks kickboxing doesn’t make logical sense, so maybe there is some sense in the combination. You with me? No?
Ok, next one:
There once was a fussy young leopard
who wouldn’t eat food that was tepid
after catching his prey
he’d roast it all day
and serve it up chilli-d and peppered.
Frankly I think the leopard and tepid rhyme is inspired. IT IS! Stop arguing.
And finally my favourite. The first two lines were my husband’s (remember how I said he writes sad stuff?) and I added the last three off the top of my head before he had the chance to make it even more tragic. We chuckled to ourselves. The boys looked bemused.
There once was a dying giraffe
who wanted to have the last laugh
so he learned how to sing
and the jaw-dropping thing
was that he sounded like Edith Piaf
All together now: “Non je ne regrette rien… ”
I’m linking this up with Prose for Thought over at Verily Victoria Vocalises.
