Sometimes my muse has the sense of humor of an 12-year-old boy. This is what happens when that muse meets a prompt like the one over at OctPoWrimo today. I’m also playing with the limerick form by using its structure for multiple stanzas to tell a single story.
There once was a young lass from Boone
Who forgot to wear pantaloons.
The cool mountain breeze
Blew her skirt ‘bove her knees
Revealing her full cheeky moon.
Dave was a mischievous lad.
He liked girls who were scantily clad.
When he spied a young lass
By chance showing her ass,
His thoughts were especially bad.
He wanted to get her alone,
Perhaps bring about rapturous moans.
He approached her with glee
and said, “Come with me…
I’m the best that you’ve ever known.”
The young lass was taken aback
And greeted his face with a smack.
“I’m a lady of class
So please… kiss my ass!”
I will not go with you to your shack!”
His face began to flame
As Dave hung his head in shame.
From her wind-blown skirt,
His eyes did avert
And henceforth he did proclaim…
“Whenever the full moon shines,
Carefully look for the signs.
The pink, cheeky moon
That caused you to swoon…
Make certain ’tis not her behind!”