Seven Limericks of an Old Cynic
Ataraxia (ἀταραξία) – accented on the penultimate vowel.
Untroubled stillness, pure calm, impassiveness, the absence
of turmoil and disturbance.
My life has a firm, solid basis.
Friends say I’m enslaved to cold stasis.
But I gladly aver
That in fact I prefer
This unchanged and ease-filled oasis.
Morons and crackpots want change,
And novelties in a wide range.
They like alterations
And crazy gyrations
And anything freaked-out and strange.
I want things the same and familiar,
In patterns sedate that will fill your
Soul with calm leisure
And plain homespun pleasure
And nothing to rile ya or chill ya.
You dimwits with bright new ideas—
Just shove the damned things up your rears.
Don’t stir up commotions
With stupid new notions
That generate tension and fears.
Ataraxia’s the goal:
A placid and undisturbed soul
Free from vexation
And gross irritation—
Complacent, untroubled, and whole.
The path of the pig I shall follow:
I’ll mosey on down to the hollow,
Plop down in the mud
And the welcoming crud,
And in blissful contentment I’ll wallow.
Don’t tell me the world is in pain—
I’m keeping it out of my brain.
To me it’s all dreary
And leaves my eyes bleary—
I don’t plan on going insane.
previously publish in Expansive Poetry Online
Joseph S. Salemi has published five books of poetry, and his poems, translations and scholarly articles have appeared in over one hundred publications world-wide. He is the editor of the literary magazine TRINACRIA and writes for Expansive Poetry On-line. He teaches in the Department of Humanities at New York University and in the Department of Classical Languages at Hunter College.
Joseph, I am delighted to read your limericks! I welcome a new word to my passive vocabulary, “ataraxia.” At my age I can identify perfectly with your desire for “stasis,” “ease-filled oasis,” and “homespun pleasure.” Limericks have a way of going straight to the core, in your case, verse by terse verse. This is another departure from your usual poems, and I must say I enjoyed them immensely. I noticed you departed in a recent comment in referring to me by not using the formal title. With your permission, I have done the same and used your first name. I have long counted you among my friends.
Roy, many thanks for these kind words. I tend to use “LTC” when addressing you because my father taught me always to have profound respect for the military. During World War II he had served under Omar Bradley, and always spoke of him as “the General.” In fact, my brother bears the middle name Omar.
Just call me “Joe.” It’s fine with me. I’m indifferent to the titles “Professor” and “Doctor” because I know too many flaming idiots who bear them.
With your permission, Sir, I will continue to address you as “Professor,” in every respectful sense of that title.
Thank you for these, Professor. Each one was enjoyable, and like you and Roy, I too am a fan of stasis.
Thank you, Russel. I don’t think there are many perfect rhymes for “stasis” beyond the ones I used in that limerick, though I’ll concede that there are near-rhymes like places, faces, maces, aces, chases, etc.
I’ve always liked a good limerick, and I think they go down best accompanied by a cool lime rickey.
Kip, I love a good drink along with a good poem
I really enjoyed these limericks Joseph and agree totally. If we follow all of the mainstream madness, we might go insane.
Thanks, Norma. I’ve reached the stage in life where I simply cannot summon up any more patience for the incurable idiocy that surrounds us.
Of course the Limericks are perfect! And stability is always a top priority. But this mud thing… now we are talking pure luxury! Fortunately, I don’t see any mud restrictions, regulations or shortages on the horizon, but my crystal ball is a bit fuzzy lately, Joe.
Mike, many thanks. You know, I borrowed the idea for that sixth limerick from an old English music-hall song of the early 1900s. It went something like this:
Mud, mud, glorious mud!
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood!
So follow me, follow…
Down to the hollow,
And there we shall wallow
In glorious mud!
Ask Susan if she has heard of this old song.
Susan has certainly heard it… and remembers it very well… she loves to watch the hippopotami!
It’s on YouTube here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Id9memsxnuw&list=RDId9memsxnuw&start_radio=1
It appears that one of the commenters has written out the lyrics.
The Hippopotamus Song
A bold hippopotamus was standing one day
On the banks of the cool Shalimar
He gazed at the bottom, as it peacefully lay
By the light of the evening star
Away on a hilltop sat combing her hair
His fair hippopotami maid
The hippopotamus was no ignoramus
And sang her this sweet serenade
Mud, mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood
So follow me, follow
Down to the hollow
And there let us wallow in glorious mud
The fair hippopotama he aimed to entice
From her seat on that hilltop above
As she hadn’t got a ma to give her advice
Came tip-toeing down to her love
Like thunder the forest re-echoed the sound
Of the song that they sang as they met
His inamorata adjusted her garter
And lifted her voice in duet
Mud, mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood
So follow me, follow
Down to the hollow
And there let us wallow in glorious mud
Now more hippopotami began to convene
On the banks of that river so wide
I wonder now what-am-I to say of the scene
That ensued by the Shalimar side?
They dived all at once with an ear-splitting splosh
Then rose to the surface again
A regular army of hippopotarmy
All singing this haunting refrain
Mud, mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood
So follow me, follow
Down to the hollow
And there let us wallow in glorious mud!
Those old English music-halls were great. The songs were comical, raucous, and often quite bawdy!
Joe, I think “path of the pig” is the perfect limerick for how we all feel at times.
There used to be a beauty treatment called the “mudpack.” Many women swore by it.
Very amusing, and amusingly-rhymed, limericks!
Recently I was looking for rhymes for the word “ideas”, but wasn’t clever enough to think of — um — “rears”! (Maybe because I never lived in New York?)
Thank you, Cynthia. Because the word “idea” is a borrowing from Greek, there is a dearth of possible rhymes for it in English. It doesn’t help that the pronunciation of “idea” has been widely variant in time and place. Here in the United States you might have heard “eye-DEER,” or “eye-DEE-uh,” or even (as Sally Cook pointed out to me) the rustic “EYE-dee.”
Seven workmanlike limericks that give candid insight into the ‘real’ Doctor Joe.
I think these days, if we dwell too much on what’s going on around us, we will indeed go insane – or worse.
For me it seems that a limerick a day keeps the doctor away. Here’s yesterdays:
Andrew Mountbatten Windsor Arrest Limerick
He thought he was dreaming in bed,
and royalty’s titles weren’t dead
when after they’d taken
his pic at the station,
“Prints, Andrew!” a constable said.
Thanks for keeping the limerick alive and kicking.
Paul, never assume that what a poet’s voice says in a poem is precisely what the poet actually thinks or believes. Sometimes it is, but frequently it isn’t.
Joseph
You are a worthy successor to the limerick-King: a/k/a Lear! I’ve always enjoyed limericks for their infectious rhythm and adroit wordplay. Your rhymes are unusually clever. At the same time, you are weaving in serious philosophical points.
My favorite stanza is “the path of the pig” which on initial reading is completely ridiculous— and I laughed out loud. On second thought, however, we know that mud baths are conducive to deep thinking, and of course, scientists (and 4H teens) inform us that pigs are extremely intelligent!
To recapitulate (but hardly compete!)
My favorite rhymester is Joe.
His limericks shimmy and flow –
Extract ancient riches,
Yet leave me in stitches,
A standing ovation: Bravo!
Most sincerely,
Mary Jane
Many thanks, Mary Jane. This is the first time, to my knowledge, that someone has written a poem about me!
That’s a wonderful limerick, Mary. Bravo, yourself!
I agree with Paul!
These are absolutely wonderful, Joe — hilarious and extravagantly smart at the same time. There’s a slightly curmudgeonly consistency to the pieces — a desire for respite from fools and foolishness — which I relate to fully. I am delighted not just by the content but by the rhymes, some of which are exceedingly clever. The rhymes of “familiar” with “fill your” and “chill ya” particularly tickled me.
Limericks seem to be a uniquely perfect vehicle for short sassy observations and for language to be stretched and finagled with to drive a gag or a piquant point home. Maybe one exists, but I can’t imagine a somber limerick on a truly serious subject.
Brian, many thanks — I’m glad that the limericks pleased you. I certainly intended them to be “curmudgeonly,” which is why I’m extremely happy with the picture that Evan chose to illustrate this post. The look on that guy’s face is precisely what I wanted to say (ut pictura, poesis!)
I find limericks to be one of the easiest things to compose. First off, they are short; second they have only two rhymes (AABBA); and third they are limited to things facetious, comical, bawdy, or satiric. As you point out, no “truly serious subjects”! And the form is so deeply rooted in the comic mode that a limerick on a serious subject would immediately be read as sarcastic/ironic, or the serious subject would be rendered absurd.
Your point about “short, sassy observations” is absolutely correct. In fact, that is the best description of a limerick I have ever read.
I’ve found that these brief rules are what make for the very best limericks: 1) Both the meter and the rhymes must be PERFECT. No substitutions, no extra or missed syllables, no near-rhymes or off-rhymes. 2) The grammar and syntax must be as clear as crystal. No sentence fragments, no missed verbs, no uncertain antecedents. 3) If the A rhymes end feminine, the B rhymes must end masculine, and vice-versa (this is not an absolute rule, but a general guideline). 4) The tone of the speaker’s voice should approach that of a supercilious English clubman who speaks in a posh upper-crust accent with a trace of aristocratic snobbery. (Example: “Bwing anothah dwink immeejitly foh milud Sawlsbry, James.”)
The limericks are outstanding. I enjoyed them all. And that reference to the Hippopotamus Song certainly brought back memories. Thanks for a good laugh, well told.
Thank you, Rohini. I must acknowledge being corrected about the date of the “Mud, Mud..” song (sometimes called “The Hippopotamus Song”). It was not from the old English music-hall period, but was composed by Flanders and Swann in the 1950s. Apparently everyone who is English seems to remember it!
Joe, I like a good limerick and yours have been used to excellent effect – I love the basis/stasis/oasis rhymes, and the path of the pig is a wonderful image that has made me grin, but it’s these lines that shout out at me: “Don’t tell me the world is in pain— / I’m keeping it out of my brain.” – if only I could! I’m also drawn to the music-hall conversation. My grandmother and her family threw large parties where music-hall songs were sung to cheers and raucous laughter. I’m sure many of the lewd lyrics went over my head, but to this day I still remember “Don’t Dilly Dally on the Way” with joy in my heart. Along with “Knees Up Mother Brown”, it was my favorite as a little girl, and I always wondered what a “cock linnet” was and how anyone could “walk behind wiv me old cock linnet” – they struck me as the strangest and most dazzling words I’d ever heard. Joe, thank you!
Susan, have you ever heard the old music-hall one about “Lucy and her Londonderry Air”? The play on words is in “London derriere” — it’s one of the funniest and bawdiest songs.
Joe, I hadn’t heard of this one (thank you) and I’ve just listened to it (courtesy of YouTube) and I love its grin-inducing cleverness. After reveling in its joy, I went on a music-hall journey which brought back memories of pearly kings and queens doing the Lambeth Walk – another favorite of mine. I am now wondering if these music-hall songs have had an influence on my poetry.
Thanks for bringing this dose of ataraxia to start my day with. I don’t think I’ve ever seen limericks strung together like this in a coherent way. I always had it in my head that they were too gimmicky for story telling (probably due to all of the Nantucket iterations kids are familiar with). This worked very well!
Thank you, Warren. Once you get started on a chain of thematically related limericks, they tend to come easily.
An insanely busy February at my bill-paying work has kept me away from this site too long. I almost missed these little gems. I can hear Brooklyn in rhyming “ideas” with “fears,” and your allusion to Shaw’s quip about the pig enjoying wallowing in mud isn’t lost. Overall you make a case for conservatism in an appropriately tried-and-true form.
Many thanks, Adam — I guess the way one pronounces “idea” is a dead giveaway for where one hails from. My speech is pure Noo Yawk – Brooklyn, and it tends to come out when I make rhymes.