An alphabet. A bunting. A blog.
And some utter randomness.
What a marvelous life you must leadTo have monkeys who play and then pleadFor warmth from the chill.It shows such good willAnd trust. What a wonder indeed!
No one can outlimerick the master(I wish I could write these lines faster).Now I’m stuck on line threeWith paid work calling me!So here is the final word: vaster.
To try to outlimerick the masterCan end with naught but disaster.It’s not writing with speed But quick skill that you need.Write it slowly but think it up faster.
At lim'ricks I'm hardly an ace;But one thing I've learned: It's no race.I'm more of a tortoiseWhen playing this sport. IsIt wrong to prefer second place?
Ok, I'm not going to play.I am just going to say,This made my day.
My thinking is slow like molassesI’ll never get rich like OnassisSo no comment shall IEven attempt to tryMy sweets don’t appeal to the masses.
(Secret message to I. Bunting because I misplaced her e-mail address: "Nice pix!")
the enabling constraint: not my thing, as I found out, and not I.B's either I fancy. But that shaman man he thrives on't.
The "enabling constraint"? Whazzat?
Ah, now that we're past the enabling constraint of the limerick, I can comment again (so so busy!). I'm unbelievably impressed with the lot of you, limerick or no. (But the limericks...fantastic.)D: Thanks, and email is on the letter...if you misplace that before you find the address, lemme know.
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