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Trying to earn my poetic license

April E. Clark
Post Independent
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
April in Glenwood
ALL |

I wrote a limerick last night. I had forgotten how therapeutic writing with rhythm can be.

That explains my dancing-to-Salt-N-Pepa obsession lately.

Sure, it was more about dryer lint than a girl from Nantucket. But that gave it clean charm. Limericks don’t always have to be dirty.



But they sure are funny that way.

This course of action prompted me to do a little research on limericks. Not surprisingly, the Internet has a bounty of these ditties to waste hours of my life on that I’ll never get back. But trust me, I’ve wasted countless hours being way less productive. Like watching Hollywood stars ballroom dance. Making red velvet cupcakes for myself I couldn’t possibly eat alone. And applying mascara.



Even magnifying glasses in place of my lenses couldn’t make my eyes look bigger.

Since I have a little Irish in me, I have a little thing for limericks. And corned beef and cabbage. Since it had been awhile since I’ve written a limerick, I had to do my research. First, a limerick is five lines. I also learned, historically, clean limericks are just not that popular. But for newspaper and radio purposes, I have to keep it nicer than naughty. Santa is always watching.

At least that’s what my mother used to say.

Apparently an English fellow named Edward Lear made the limerick quite famous in his book of prose titled, “A Book of Nonsense.” That sounds about right for any book I could ever write.

Maybe it’s time for a follow-up.

I could start with, “There once was a girl from Glenwood Springs …” The problem is, not that many words rhyme with Springs. Maybe that book of nonsense will only be like three pages.

Which would be the definition of nonsense, right?

Maybe if it were a pop-up book it could stretch to about 30 pages. So, the nonsense starts here, if it didn’t already start five years ago when this column started.

There once was a girl from Glenwood Springs,

Who learned how to spread her wings.

She went rafting on the river,

Tested the strength of her liver,

And drove a car with plenty of dings.

My dad – and any other man who has driven in a car with me – can appreciate that one.

This one could make it into the pop-up book, as well:

There once was a girl from Carbondale,

Who sang like a frightened nightingale,

She loved to attempt karaoke,

If she were a Smurf she’d be Jokey,

And her favorite beer was an India Pale Ale.

The nonsense would probably stop here:

There once was a girl from Aspen

Whose white legs she was always maskin’,

She went to the pool

The boys started to drool

Until she found a spot in the sun for baskin’.

Maybe this girl from Glenwood Springs should keep her day job.

April E. Clark is here all week. Don’t try the veal. She can be reached at aprilelizabethclark@yahoo.com.


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