The next Revolution won’t be
Broadcast over network TV–
It’s gonna be baaad,
And it won’t feature ads–
You’ll just have to be there to see.
Category: If All Poems Were Limericks
If All Poems Were Limericks: A Visit from St. Nicholas, by Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the night before Christmas. The hoof
Of a reindeer alit on the roof,
Which needed repair,
So now there’s a deer
In the kitchen, dear. Sorry. My goof.
[Want more Moore? The Poetry Crisis Line call for this poem will up on Christmas Eve.]
If All Poems Were Limericks: “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A man shot a bird on a boat,
Then helplessly drifted afloat
Until he learned mercy,
But he’d earned this curse–he
Must keep on repeating, by rote:
“A man shot a bird on a boat,
Then…