May Poetic License
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To quote Public Enemy: “Once again, back is the incredible.”
That’s right, it’s time once again for Pensieve’s Poetic License, the monthly poetry carnival designed to stretch one’s creaky poetic muscles.
This month, not only is the form one I’ve never done before, but I’ve never even heard of it.
Clerihew, named in honor of Edmund Clerihew Bentley, who is said to have written the the first poem of this form. They should have called it the Bentley, but I guess Clerihew sounds more “la tee da.”
Anyway, I have a sneaking suspicion that Robin just made up this form last week and wrote the Wikipedia entry herself, but I’ll play along anyway.
The form is simple: four lines; AABB; first line is the subject of the poem (usually a name); should be funny. All clear?
Oh, and the theme for this month is celebrations, as in Cinco de Mayo, Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, etc. There’s also Hamburger month, Mental Health month, Asparagus month1, and many, many others.
I wrote four poems this month, and while I’ll admit that Robin’s made-up poetry form was hard at first–I kept wanting to finish these as limericks–once I got the hang of it, it was a bit addictive.
So here we go. My first poem is in honor of Mother’s day:
Teri Heck2
Always thought her son such a wreck.
Each night she would drop to her knees and pray,
“Please Lord, may my son never need a toupee.”
Happy mother’s day mom! I hope you like your present… 
The next two are in honor of Mental Health month. Sarah is a Psychologist, so how could I not write a few of these? Here’s the first:
Sigmund Freud
And those crazy theories he always employed.
“It’s your mother,” “You’re repressed,” he constantly plugs,
I guess that’s just standard when your doc’s hooked on drugs.
The second is for all you Lost fans3 out there:
Hugo Reyes, they call him “Hurley.”
Lately, he’s been acting kinda surly.
He’s convinced that even the dead ain’t dead,
But what if this whole show is all in his head?
Finally, I thought I’d write one for National Hamburger month:
That Burger King
Shows up in an instant, new items to bring.
In the commercials, people laugh and cheer and shout,
But they’re crazy. That dude really creeps me out.
And on that note, I bid you good day. Comment here, and then go read some other awesome made-up-style poems.
- so who wrote the smelly pee poem?
- That’s my mom
- us included
