· 08 February 2016 ·
[A new poem making a few points about talent]
When the voices start talking, there’s nothing for it but to sit down and write until they stop. I don’t expect this rate of limerical output to continue, but we’ll see how it goes. Been a long time since I noodled around with poetry.
Limericks weren’t a thing in my day, though I took early steps in that direction in a couple of my plays. Everyone was still trying to wrap their heads around the verse form that Thomas Wyatt and my Uncle Henry introduced earlier in the (16th) century, which came to be known as the English sonnet. I don’t use its other names (Elizabethan or Shakespearean sonnet), and in the interest of accuracy and fairness neither should you. Wyatt and Surrey predated Elizabeth and me by a generation, and Willy, who was not involved, by nearly two.
I did a decent job with my sonnets. They’ve created an entire analytical industry. To this very day people are still at it. Some do a much better job than others. There are times when I can only facepalm at the folks who can’t see what’s right in front of their noses. Selective blinders appear to be a fashion statement in certain circles.
Perhaps in another 400 years someone will be analysing my limericks.