· 8 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 really around in my day, though I took a couple of stabs at the rhyme scheme. Everyone was busy trying to wrap their heads around the new 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 the other terms for it, and in the interest of accuracy and fairness neither should you. Those two gentlemen predated Elizabeth and me (not to mention Willy) by a generation.
I did a decent job with my sonnets. They’ve created an entire analytical industry. To this very day I know people still at it. Some people 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.