I always intended the Hively Limerick Contests to be a regular occurrence. But then they stopped happening. I can’t say I got lazy, because that just makes me sound bad. So let’s say I got busy. Really, really busy.
Then, a dedicated limericker sent me a suite of limericks entirely unbidden. Janice Canerdy has a thing or two to say about good intentions and getting busy:
Their dreams of a time to remember
fell flat that cool night in September.
The girls’ angry daddies
chased off the poor laddies.
How quickly hard things can go limber!
How quickly, indeed. What had the Hively Limericks become if not
I must hereby engrave Janice’s name on the golden plate of persistent limerickers, because when the contests remained, erm, “limber,” she sent me another suite of poems, this time offering commentary on the state of underappreciated poets:
Those guys in the white shirts are lucky.
Compared to our job, theirs is ducky.
I speak for us plumbers.
Some days are such bummers,
spent knee-deep in things really yucky.
With that, I promised Janice that the Hively Limerick Contests would be reintroduced into the wild.
So here we are, folks! Send in your limericks about all things wild. Wild boars, wild sloths, wild lovers, wild elderly people… if it can be untamed, we want to read limericks about it.