Forsaking Limericks for Ballads — getting away from the AABBA

That limerick of the week I'm to write

Should not be so unique it's alright

That it comes later than

Every seven days can

Such that my readers up'n'left, downright

.

After a year I've fallen behind

Gone out of sight and out of mind

It's just that I'm so sick

Of writing the limerick

I hereby up and resign

.

Where did they all get me?

Awash in kinky debauchery?

Maybe on paper

But not with my neighbor

Off the record they all rejected me

.

Though for a year I've gone the distance

In weekly consistent persistence

Doing Irish jigs

And rhyming the gigs

I think I'll just free-verse, perchance

.

A sonnet a week, a haiku a day

The other paths I could as easily sway

With wordsmithing well played

More likely I'll get laid

'Cause a ballad makes powerful foreplay

.

Sure I'll miss double entendres

Innuendos alluding sexual congress

But rhyming dirty

Just ain't as flirty

As my assonance with a sexy accomplice

.

Size doesn't matter

Hyperbole makes organs no fatter

But slip in a spondee

With some fricative and you'll see

That poetry makes her wildcatter

___________________

This is #54, so it's a wee bit more than a whole year. Consider it two extra, just for luck. Sadly, I may be all Limerick'd out! Retiring here a Limerick Writer Emeritus.