Pigs Might Fly

[LUCKY DIAMOND RICH]

I spoke to nick today,and he in forms me that a LIMIRIK is something that has to be were the 1st and the 2nd and the last line rhyme,and the 3rd and the 4th line rhyme,that that is what a LIMIRIK is!

Is this correct?

and are the rest of Taxies,(bar 2 Limiriks) all poems not Limiriks?

Want to start doing my own flying pig,limiriks but need to know the guild lines!


LDR

[Neil Brown]

A LIMERICK is a (Irish) five-lined verse, where the rhyme scheme is
aabba,
just as you say!

There once was a pig who could talk,
Who's first love was the ol' town of Cork,
But t'was too far to swim,
For a small pig like him,
So he flew and became airborne pork.

[Neil Brown]

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

The limerick is yes metered thus
and for that, take the "Limerick" bus
for this thread calls for all
pigflight theme poems, my doll.
Its a full on freewind flight for us.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Very few people I’ve met at the fair enjoy time spent with Bernie the grump.
He brings his own cloud of unkindness around him and says things like “look at this dump”.
One day, to the tent of my miracle mother the mindreader midget he barged,
He stuck up his chin with an “I’m so smart” grin and said “I like my mediums large”.

I was standing outside Mr Vertigo’s pen (He’s a flying pig act from Cancoon.)
And the sign said “Next flight at 11 am” and it was already past noon.
But people still thought the old pig might just fly, his reputation’s great...

when Bernie elbowed himself up to the front and said loudly
“Well, You Fools can wait!
But I’m not staying here beside a filthy hog who’s faking.*
You bozos waste your time with this 200 pounds of bacon.”

But Mr. Vee had reasons, you see, he was waiting for his time
He wasn’t waiting for the dancing grace of Lurk, the stilted mime
Nor for the four floor contorted flips of our prize Deuce the Clown
‘Cause right then Vertigo ripped a fart the size of Houston Town.

He floated over all our heads, light as a whispered wish.
In reverent voice a farmer said “Well throw that pig a fish”.

He gently drifted over the fence, and over Bernie’s face
He lifted chin and surely seemed to spin right there in place
He was sitting in the air that day, we all thought “Will the Pig sink soon?”
And Bernie, of course, standing underneath, beheld a big pink moon.

So Bernie tipped his head back, screaming “WHAT!” and as he said it,
A big old plop of poop fell in his mouth, I won’t forget it.

* A foreshadowing, if only Bernie knew, of a relationship he would have the following Spring.


[This message has been edited by Mr.Taxi Trix (edited 01-20-2002).]

[Peter Voice]

Poems or limericks, it doesn't really matter, LDR, there aren't any rules and I'd love one from you.
I don't think it will matter to the kids if they're giggling.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Fenton The Aimer


"That old bumblebee aint got nothing on me"
pondered Fenton, a pig who could fly
"I put the imp in impossible baby,
I'm just one most unlikely guy.

Every night I alight from the rooftop and dance up where all wordly cares take a hike.
And you know, down below, its the funniest show when I poop on some guy on a bike."

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

What's the story, pig mine, Oh you fat flying pig,
what strange magic has you off the ground?

Is it coffee from Egypt sipped beneath a full moon
is it some silver magic flute sound?

I love you above me its joy to observe you I know you are glad to be up.

Was it some secret ritual with wildflowers and whispers, or did you fart into a cup?

[Scot Free]

I once witnessed an bewildering sight,
'twas the strangest I'd ever seen!
a sow had taken to the clouds in flight,
Oh whatever could this mean?
After much inquiry and scientific might,
of the answer I found I am keen,
From what I can gather,
she'd climbed up a ladder,
and fueled herself with lentils and beans.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

My research into flying pigs brings me to Cornwall Town
Where on a stone farm far from fright there lives an ex-circus clown
who's known to keep a flying pig named Bikston at the place
The clown's collected savings purchase food to feed Bik's face.

"He's hungry" says the farmer "Guess you'de best give him your muffin"
But I am eating that and so I've got to think of something
A rhymer's tiny budget has me just this side of broke,
I reach into my pocket and the idea comes: a joke.

A rock rests in my pocket (I'm a sculptor on the side,
and yet another reason that I'm broke this does provide...
I also play the trumpet in an acapella band,
and freelance on the weekends when I guiltily bystand.)

The hungry pig looks up at me, I think "I'll slip him the stone...
if he can fly I'm certain he can gnaw this like a bone."

The rock fell down and splashed, the farmer yelled "You got my toe wet!
If you don't mind yer manners, fool, I'll feed this pig a poet!"



[This message has been edited by Mr.Taxi Trix (edited 01-20-2002).]

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

The secret of Patty my flying pig friend
is easily hidden from view.
She always ties to her collar this aid,
a helium balloon, in light blue.

[Steven Ragatz]

Peter Voice said:

<font face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica" size="2">Poems or limericks, it doesn't really matter, LDR, there aren't any rules and I'd love one from you.
I don't think it will matter to the kids if they're giggling.

I agree. Your project sounds like a wonderful endeavor. I will throw out the following for common edification...

LDR asks:

<font face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica" size="2"> are the rest of Taxies,(bar 2 Limiriks) all poems not Limiriks?

The term limerick implies a certain poetic structure of syllables and beats. FWIW, a quick web search revealed the following:

"The number of syllables is not as important as the beat pattern:
da DA-da-da DA-da-da DA-(da) (da)
da DA-da-da DA-da-da DA (da) (da)
da DA-da-da DA (da)
da DA-da-da DA (da)
da DA-da-da DA-da-da DA (da) (da)

Meaning that you can leave off the syllables in parentheses, but 1,2 and 5 should match each other, and 3 and 4 should match."

For a more detailed definition apart from the stress, check out:

http://www.limericks.org/pentatette/whatis.htm

Apart from this, I cannot help, for the only way I would be able to write good poetry is when pigs fly.

Steven Ragatz

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Tell me of rivergrass whispering songs to the frogs floating by in their boats.
I'm hungry to hear of the Elvin banana blitz: fought mounted on magic goats.

Is it true that you knew spinster Sue the old crone who created sublime serendipity?
And I simply must know, did you go see the scissor art man who they call Semour Snippety?

Enliven my day with your tale of the way monkey baseball is played with blue stones.
And I’ve got to know of that festival show with the flying pig and Mr. Jones.

There's something in your mental pocket, now, reach in and gift it over.
I'm riddled with mundane freight in this place, mate, pluck me a four leaf clover.

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

A good pig flew to Gwelph one day
On a most auspicious mission.
He was full of fancy dreamdust whisps
And took the sky position.

At five oclock he paused to talk
to thirteen restless crows
who queried him about his pattern,
and of its ups and lows.

“It wasn’t bad,” he sallied forth,
“But from what I can see,
If you need to get through customs,
You’d better bring ID.”

[Mr.Taxi Trix]

Geronimo the flying pig is poised upon his ladder.
He's dusted off his underarms and emptied out his bladder.

He stands beneath the merest whispy slip of a hinted moon...
and takes to the air as soft and sublime as a harp played completely in tune.