Written for: The Twiglets #230 - "no rope"
I'd hang myself
but I have no rope.
As a child I loved
of the cord gave
heft when turned.
No jumprope like that
he spots the calf
frolicking in field
drops rope at his side
His life was that of a fisherman,
not an overly ambitious man.
Showed his son the ropes
but the kid could not cope
with rod, reel or smell of a river man.
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
Love the limerick!
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Nicely done. I like how you should various uses of ropes.
All nice works. i esp appreciate the dropped calf rope.