About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
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Everyday Canvas #930867 added March 17, 2018 at 9:02pm Restrictions: None
Leprechaun Limerick
Prompt: Let a little bit of leprechaun mischief or magic slip into your blog today. Have fun...
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Never Cross a Leprechaun
Now, do not smirk and do not yawn!
You must not cross a leprechaun,
short, green, and tricky,
he’ll be gross, icky
with cheap tipple, yet unseen brawn.
Sophic vision, if you've amassed,
won’t amount to digestive gas
or your drunken dream
of surging upstream
holding on to a blade of grass.
Then, keep off from his fairy rings
and don’t touch the imps’ flimsy wings,
daring though this is,
you are not a wiz
you’ll feel the blahs and raging stings.
A leprechaun is magical,
he can dance, prance, but is fickle,
and while snores and sleeps,
he casts spells in heaps.
Then, zap! You’ll be in a pickle.
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