Captivated by that title? I'm sure.
So, when Trick and I play Scrabble, the rule is usually that the loser (usually me) has to write the Scrabble poem, which is obviously a poem using all of the words on the Scrabble board afterwards. Occasionally, however -- well, once -- the word list is so enticing, so lush, that we both feel compelled to write a poem. And then we post them so that you can see whose is better.
Listen, I'm going to concede right now that Trick's is far superior in both quality and story value. However, I managed to both invoke a Bobby Brown song AND refer to a penis as a "tender jo."
Enjoy.
Sulking Yonisby TrickSulking, sad, under covers,
two yonis now avoid each other.
Avid once to rut in bed,
now they hog the sheets instead.
Oh, pox-filled nights had been like this
since Jo Tate's pliers had wrung their bliss.
At a dais of ziti the three had et
a plate of nan, then smoked some hemp.
And with a yen to improve their qi,
Jo suggested swapping for a fee.
Cos if you would just suk my seven,
I'd return the favor 'til the clock strikes XI.
But then at twelve he wanted more,
an' knocked his ag at their forbidden door.
Aw, no way, the big one cried
but the teenier one let him come inside.
Hi, Um, Ow, the little one cooed
as her betrayed best friend fled the room.
Now, brr, their fur shivers through the night
with no warming palm to rub things right.
The Ballad of the Sulking Yonisby JocelynLost without sleep, the sad boy shivered in his bed with a brr
Tried in vain to find warmth in his romantic covers made of fur
Once, she had been there to suk his tender jo
Her legs like tightening pliers around his torso
Oh, she had been his love, his compatriot, his aide de camp, his toy
Now the memory of her love was like a pox that he strove to avoid
In exchange for her love, this hurt afterwards was a fee
But his heart was now teenier than the pain, and so into the night he wandered to flee
He walked down the darkened street feeling his need, the clocks approaching xi,
He passed gypsies reading palms, Indian stands of hot nan, old men eating ziti and trying to roll sevens,
A hog smoking on a spit, a hippie with a yen to improve his qi,
His friends smoking hemp, an avid Tates fan with his book clutched way too closely,
In a open window above, the sounds of a couple unable to wait,
Ow, ag, cos, aw, hi, um, an, et ... and "Baby, that was great."
His soul felt like it had been washed and wrung,
His emotions in a rut, he went to the bar of the band, knowing what he needed to hear sung,
Past the bouncer, through the door, into the crowd,
He downed his drink and hoped that they played the song loud.
Atop the dias, the band crooned to the audience of tender ronis,
Their tight shirts and messy hair framed the ballad he had come to hear, the song of the sulking yonis
Think you can write a better limerick? It's harder than it looks. Here's the world list you'd need to work with. I bet you don't have the chutzpa to try.
> palm
> hemp
> fee
> hog
> pliers
> pox
> hi
> ag
> oh
> xi
> ow
> avid
> teenier
> dais
> avoid
> sad
> sulking
> suk
> brr
> ziti
> fur
> toy
> yonis
> tates
> qi
> wait
> aide
> yen
> covers
> cos
> wrung
> nan
> jo
> aw
> um
> need
> bed
> rut
> an
> et
Labels: jesus, poetry mediations, yonis
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