Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Let's Limerick, Shall We?

Current Listen: The Immortals courtesy of Kings of Leon

Please note. Tonight's blog is to be read with a heavy imitation of an Irish accent. Brush up on your "R's" mates (okay so I'm an Irish pirate).

Tomorrow is St. Patty's Day and the wearin' of the green!
Leprechauns will play their tricks, some nice and some mean.
Catch one for luck
And you'll never be stuck
Only dreaming of fortunes to glean.

Limericks are a curious prose, originating in the dimly lit taverns of Ireland. Imagine yourself sitting steeled away in the corner, watching the drunkards banter back and forth, bumping into the poor girls carrying pitchers of dark ale to thirsty patrons. The more beverage consumed, the louder the voices become, and the subjects discussed turning raunchy in most cases. The competition to outdo each other in bragging rights to earn popularity, soon turns to ill attempts at humor.

Thus, the limerick is born. 

One over exuberant gent starts with a line, tipping his hat to his comrade across the table, whose sole purpose at the moment is to accept the challenge.

Line two is created, rhyming with the first. But then, an animated fellow eavesdropping from the bar, joins the merriment, adding a twist in line three.

His companion, leaning heavy on his shoulder to remain upright, interrupts with a short burst of words linking the mate's sentence, then graciously bows to the creator to finish.

Not to be upstaged by any means, he gulps the last of his brew, the foam coating his heavy moustache, and he blurts the final refrain, undoubtedly carried on a belch, but nicely tying the poetic disaster in rhyme.

Fast forward to the present. Are you wearing your green, or purposely seeking that "pinch." Is there a rainbow in your line of sight - one with a pot of gold glistening in the sun? Do your ears pick up the trace of a wicked giggle, or a flash of a mythical gnome darting by? Did your day start backward, the world feeling oddly off balanced? All signs of St. Patrick's Day mischief.

When my children were younger and I moved faster than the Energizer Bunny, I'd get up early and set up my "pranks." School clothes were hung from the light fixtures. Milk was colored green. Dinner was served instead of breakfast (my husband wasn't a fan of this particular trick), and hair was sprayed green. It was a day when mischief was acceptable.

Stuck between Winter and Spring, the soul desperately craves joviality. We need to be playful. Life is far too serious, especially of late. Disasters, economic woes, and political unrest plague our world. Our hearts are heavy, if not for ourselves, for our fellowman. Today, let go. Be a child again. Find the "leprechaun within" and let yourself be a little naughty. Laugh. Poke fun at yourself and be outrageous. If a party beckons, accept the invite and lose yourself for a little while. Tomorrow, you can transform back into the boring person you were March 16th. Hopefully, you'll be sober enough to remember who that person is, and where they live!

If I could only find my lucky shamrock to make my wishes come true. I'm still waiting on my "publishing fairy" and if magic truly existed and swirled around me, I'll also be ten pounds lighter tomorrow! On that merry little note, I leave you with my closing limerick:

There once was a writer of prose,
Who no longer fit in her clothes.
For when she'd create
Only chocolate she ate
And now she can't bend to her toes!

Here's your "There once was ________________." How will your limerick go?

Flashing my green.... Harley Brooks. (Joelene is still back at the tavern)

Today's thought: Don't watch others play in life. Join in the game once in awhile. 

2 comments:

Jane Toombs said...

There once was a writer so keen
She figured she'd always wear green
This did garner a sale
For her bold Irish tale
Toast this mean, green writing machine.

J. Coleman said...

Love it! Thanks!