While sonnets have their devotees, too few
Respect the limerick as poetry,
While citing violations of taboo,
As if perdition came from childish glee.
Transgression, true, is in the poem’s soul,
To laugh at human idiosyncrasies,
And mock the powers seeking to control
Behavior and enforce morality.
And yet, when I take up my pen to write,
I can’t escape those lettered luminaries
Whose limericks both gladden and delight;
Sublimely silly, revolutionary.
Like Lear and Stoppard, see a trend and buck it,
Just like that cheeky fellow from Nantucket.