A-Tired -- A Limericked Toil to Prevent Sad Spoil
“What does it matter how one comes by the truth
so long as one pounces upon it
and lives by it?”
(1891 – 1980)
A Limericked Toil to Prevent Sad Spoil
My buttons are popping – who knows?
Ticked off from my tips to my toes.
The list, it is long,
From here to Hong Kong,
And turns all my poems to prose.
To itemize ills would be wrong
And steal from my readers the song –
Suffice it to say
It starts in foul play
With noses where they don’t belong.
Though tempted the wrongs to expose,
Forgiveness and grace to foreclose,
My faith does appeal,
Lest joy they might steal,
And so I must don my mom’s clothes.
Apparel adult may be strong
And tailored for figures grown long.
Such garments I’ll zip,
Perhaps, too, my lip,
For how many rights make a wrong?
I’ll empty my wardrobe of woes
And pounce on the truth, I suppose.
Though facts may reveal
The sordid ordeal,
We fashion not what others chose.
Posted for a variety of prompts:
Easy Street Prompts (“my mother’s clothes”)
In Other Words (Henry Miller quote)
Monday Poetry Train (poem/s)
One Single Impression (“empty”)
Sunday Scribblings (“faith”)Weekend Wordsmith (“pounce”)