Potential Poet

Penitential Poet

"I sleep for you," the Walrus said,
"I sleep for you in your own bed.
Your bed I made,
I swear fair trade,
And if I cheat, you may strike me dead."

Potential Poem

Fierce Feline

He was known to be known as a cat,
But he never took slight at all that,
For aglow, he lit up,
When the hearth, he lit up,
Crying, "Now, I'm the king of each cat!"

Possible Poem

Birthright

Just because he was family bound
To be named Extra West Loony Pound
Is surely no reason
To shag out of season,
When no sounds of baseball abound.

Bound for Fame

First Poem by Extra Pound

There was a young lad born out West
Who thought himself best of the best.
He ridiculed Bryan
and a cross of iron
when eleven and just with a jest.

Penned-Up

The Incarceree

Once was poor Extra an incarceree
For his work as a Fascist employee.
Hitler had he praised,
As London was razed,
So they gave him 12 years in Saint Lizzy's, D.C.

Pound Pound Revisited

Bamm-Bamm

An infant there was there called "Pound-Pound,"
But pronounced it himself more as "Bound-Bound,"
Which was neither-nor there,
Nor a thing anywhere,
Except to the infantile "Pound-Pound."

The poem has been reworked to more gracefully and harmoniously ply its trade.

Hot and Bothered

Spot of Bother

In a spot of bad bother found Extra himself
Wishing for scuttling-claws just for his shelf,
And that the bad bother
Were nary but fodder
For nature's hog wild appetitive self.

Great War

Against War?

In the '85 autumn was Extra Pound born,
In the US of A, which he later would scorn,
For its role in the Great War,
Called by him the "Great Whore,"
which struck him to 'woke' state one fine British morn.

Pound-Pound

Bam-Bam

An infant there was called "Pound-Pound,"
But pronounced it himself as "Bound-Bound,"
Which was neither nor there,
Not a thing anywhere,
Except to the infant called "Pound-Pound."

And a Tippler as Well?

Toppler, Too

There once was a toddler called "Pound"
Who toddled and toddled around.
Toddled here. Toddled there.
Toddled, toddled, everywhere.
Till he finally toppled to ground.

Thicker Than They Looked

The Scheming

This charming young fellow named "Pound"
Once was given a big run-around.
He let them know quick
He could shake a big stick,
And all their thick schemes run aground!

Qwerty is Queerer?

To Play the Typewriter

Oh, "qwerty" was  the queerest word young Extra Pound had found,
Excepting the word "queerest" with its even queerer sound,
But that just meant
That "queerer" went
Where than them all, all queerer were around.

Fear

Bestridden

There once was a creature called "Pound,"
Which emitted a curious sound.
If we stood near to hear
We were warned of what fear
Might bestride us and ride us unbound!

Pre-Modern Limerick?

Mere Limerick?

"May peace be unto thee," saith cordial Pound,
"Though too oft hast thou set me up, that I clowned,
When I ought to have grieved,
Ought great sighs to have up-heaved,
Not mimed silence, where one expected sound!"

King of the Poets

King of Poets

This amazing young fellow named "Pound,"
Came up with poetic new sound,
Which he called "Imagism,"
But others, "Modernism,"
And thus was he King Poet crowned.

Pound in Paradise

Pound in Paradise

From babe unto lad as from tadpole to toad,
Pound grew up fast on the Paradise Road.
He learned to expound
and how to confound,
Which both come in handy if need be to goad.

Enter: Extra Pound

Extra Pound: The Baby

There once was a baby named "Pound,"
Who grew up to go pal around
With far-right-wing reds
So out of their heads
They knew not their ass from a hole in the ground!

Extra Pound: A Fictive Pound

I think that from now on (and retroactively), "Pound" will be "Extra Pound," a satirical reference to "Ezra Pound," but always fictive, of course:

Extra Pound

There once was a "Pound" known as "Extra,"
Who was found to live only in textra,
Which unfortunately
Exist only for fee,
In the reel unreal world known as Sextra!

Such distraction in this place we're placed in . . .

Again a Fictive Ezra Pound

Extra Pound

Pound gazed on his body one day,
Found himself in the family way!
Truly strange was that Ding,
Not a woman's Unding,
Bringing forth in an unnatural way.

Though truly fictive, this character sketch using the limerick form works pretty well. One can hear the limerick beat. And pity the poor, unmentioned female hyena! You might also check a German dictionary.

An Ezra Pound or Two

Extra Pound

Pound gazed upon his body one fine day,
And found himself in a soon-famed family way,
Truly a strange, odd, weird peculiar thing,
With male ding hung, not woman's absent unding,
And he never-the-less gave birth the natural way.


Post-Script: I think this one doesn't work because it doesn't press the reader to submit to the limerick rhythm. Maybe I'll work on it. Anyway, this is obviously the 'fictive' Pound.

Thought Less

Modernism

There once was an Imagist poet,
Who thought, that of all, he could know it.
With axioms new,
But only a few,
His system had little for to show it.

Singing

Song of Himself

There once was a poet called "Pound,"
Who sang as he strode all around:
"For a pound or a dollar,
Get some action or holler."
And so went the song that he'd sound.

A Pound of Antisemitism

Antisemitic Pound

He hated the carnage of war
And asked what that war had been for.
He lay blame on usury,
By which he meant Jewry,
And thought the Great War a great whore.

Different Architectures

Different Walls

To wall people in was Berlin,
But Trump's Wall to the makeshift inn
In outer darkness lies
With inner darkness ties,
But to wall people in was Berlin.

Fascist Italy: Really on Time?

On Timepieces

There was a young fellow named Pound,
Who aged to be ancient but sound.
Despite such longevity,
He lacked the ability
To wind up what he'd left unwound.

Punny Limerick

POTUS

There once was a man name of "Clittongue,"
Who wished he were rather named "Littongue,"
For he'd then stalk the stage
In an animal rage,
Trippingly on feet and on tongue!

Incompleted

Skink's Tale

There was a young man in Nanticket,
Who said, "Where on earth shall I stick it?"
It's not what you thank,
You dirty-minded old skank!
But where in the hell did he git it?

Sick Example

Separation of Powers

Thou once wert a short lengthy limerick
That taught thyself lessons psychotic,
For that godawful notion
Of e-motive emotion
Moved thee firmly back into the thinly thick.

Thomas Somebody

Disregard

There was an odd fellow named Pynchon
Who sought to distract all attention
From himself unto others,
So if he'd had his druthers,
He'd have stayed in a state of oblivion!

Not Allowed

Disallowed

There was an odd fellow named "LOUD!"
Who could outshout a great thundercloud,
But lightning might strike him,
If it happen to like him,
So a contest was never allowed.