In Search Of Lost Limericks

Donald knew
If he waited
It would be
Too late
His limericks
Fated to a drawer
Waiting for the day
When pigs flew
Impossible things happened
If he was persistent
He could conjure up
Something, that had
previously never existed?
His mind wandered backward
To when, knights
Rescued distressed
Damsels in castles
And performed
Other feats of derring-do
Then, Donald paused
To ponder the science
Behind everyday appliances


Street philosophy from an oxidized pelican.


pelican weather vaneStreetside, from a
Weathervane perch
The pint-sized
Pelican, behind
Verdigris plumage
Prognosticated, to
All, that would listen
The usual audience
Consisted, of
Sparrows and pigeons

 What was?
What, never was?
Whether, weather
Was, or wasn’t?
What would?
What had to be?
Was everything
The same?
Or, part of
A, tragic
Larger game?

Passers-by, ignored
Walked away, bored
By, philosophical wanderings
Wasted words, from the mouth
Of a quirky, oxidized pelican
With, a whimsical expression

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