Spring Limerick Triptych

A rabbit, a lamb, and a duck
were trying to flag down a truck
full of colorful eggs—
the lamb stuck out her leg
and barely missed being lamb chuck.


A duck asked a lamb and a rabbit
while dyeing eggs, “Golly dagnabit,
why on earth do we task
ourselves with filling bask-
ets each year?” and the rabbit said, “Habit.”


A rabbit, a duck, and a lamb
met a pig, and they started to jam.
“Don’t try to outdo him,”
a spider who knew him
said. “He’s an INCREDIBLE ham.”

Poe to You

Poe to You

Why do birds tap upon my door
And declare “Nevermore”?
Just like me, they long to read
Poe to you.

Why do bells never seem to cease?
I can’t get any peace.
Just like me, they want to read
Poe to you.

In the cellar there’s a cask
Of aged amontillado; I
Invited you to come and have a drink,
Then I bricked you up inside the wall
and then installed a toilet and a sink.

Aaah, aaaaaah, poe to you,
Aaaaaaah, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah! poe to you.

Now your heart beats beneath the floor—
I can hear through the boards.
Just like me, it longs to read
Poe to you.

Aaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaaaah!
Poe to you.

The Red-Eye Flight of Paul Revere

“Our army manned the air, it rammed the ramparts, it took over the airports.”
[From a recent presidential account of the American Revolution]


Listen, my children, and you will hear

Of the red-eye flight of Paul Revere.

On a humid, hot, and sticky night,

Having shown up two hours before his flight,

He had to get to Gate C9

After spending an hour and a half in line.

He said, “Hardly anyone still alive

Would rather go through this than drive.”

Only when he reached the font of the crowd

Did he learn how many bags were allowed:

“One if by land, two if by sea,

But you’re going by air, so there is a small fee.”

So he paid the fee and checked his bags,

And the baggage clerk affixed the tags.


But before he could be on his way,

He had to pass the TSA,

Who made him take off his belt and shoes

And his tricorn hat before he went through,

But still the metal detector buzzed

And he had to deal with the rent-a-fuzz,

Who said to him, “Now listen here, sport,

Who wears brass buttons to the airport?”


They took him to chamber where

They stripped him to his underwear,

And inch by inch, with latexed hand

Confirmed he had no contraband.

They let him go, in Concourse C

The clock on the wall read 12:03.


To make his flight, he would have to run

Past the Starbucks and the Cinnabon,

And zip right past the Chik-Fil-A

(not that he ate there anyway),

Past the Dairy Queen, the Burger King,

The Buffalo with Wild Wings,

The newsstand and the duty-free,

The shoeshine and the Mickey D’s

The T.G.I. Friday’s, the P.F. Chang,

The V.I.P. Club, the Sturm & Drang’s

The Taco Bell, the Einstein Brothers,

The Jamba Juice…and many others.


And when he reached his gate at last

And handed over his boarding pass

His breath was short; his shirt was wet,

And all his body soaked in sweat;

His coat was torn, his cravat askew,

And the sole was flopping off one shoe.

A woman standing at the gate

Explained, “You’re nearly an hour late.”


“So I missed my flight?” he asked. “What? No—

We just started boarding the first five rows.”

So he waited in line, and he shuffled his feet

And finally boarded, and took his seat

In front of a boy with spiked blond hair

Who kicked the seat all the way to O’Hare.

Ken Cuccinelli rewrites more classic poems

The Poetry Crisis Line tries to stay out of politics, but sometimes politicians won’t stay out of poetry. So after Ken Cuccinelli, Acting Director of US Citizenship and Immigration Services, suggested corrections to “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus (aka, the “Statue of Liberty Poem”), we asked Mr. Cuccinelli if there were any other classic poems he’d like to rewrite. He gave us the following:


Emma Lazarus*

Give me your tired, your poor who can stand on their own two feet
and who will not become a public charge.

William Carlos Williams†

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

they coud not
pay for
their housing

Forgive me
they were lazy
and after
my job


Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Water, water everywhere
But not a drop to drink
Unless you can afford to pay
For access to the sink


William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright
In the forest of the night,
If you come here to the States,
You’d better sell some Frosted Flakes.



*Mr Cuccinelli’s suggested revision.

†We made the rest of these up.