Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

(Despite all the merits of writing in blank verse
I don't think in iambs; my feet have more toes;
The syllables fall out in three time or six time:
Yes, dactyls, my favourite -- why jigs please me so.
Though English sounds funny if nothing but dactyls,
A trochee or spondee helps even it out,
And ending the line with that so-famous iamb
Leaves readers a chance to inhale for a sec.
So while this won't sound all that much like the great bard;
The spirit of this week will no doubt come through.)

While shopping, the discerning, non-meat-eating shopper
Will read all the fine print on boxes with care.
(Interrobang must be more careful than I am,
Likewise mammasteed; both alergic to milk.
Avoidance of critters is my only limit --
Important but not a concern for a doctor --
Lucky me, whey won't kill me and neither will garlic.)
To me cheese is yummy, so into my basket
Go packets of instantly cheesy good pasta
For days when I'm not feeling fit for real cooking.
Enriched macaroni, and whey and some Cheddar,
With broccoli, parsley, and various spices --
But there at the bottoms is "Natural Flavours"
(Which shouldn't mean anything terribly odd)...

So into the pot goes milk, water, and butter
To boil as the package directions instruct.
I open the packet to dump in the contents,
But damn, is that chicken my nose has detected?
Those "Natural Flavours" ought be more specific;
I no longer trust this quick pasta from Lipton.
I read the damned package, I checked the fine printng;
It shouldn't be hard to look out for this stuff!

(I know in these lines I have been inconsistent
In landing on one beat or ending on two.
Forgive me, I'm sleepy, and bound for my pillow.
It's naptime chez D'Glenn; it probably shows.)

Interrobang wrote in a comment on Slashdot
Re: the loss of Columbia nearly two months ago:

"That's the Bush Administration for you...
They always use the media to blame everything on the left wing!!"

Must remember to bite her for that one the next time
That I see her, most likely at Pennsic this year.

In private email, Interrobang
Discerned the reason that my words scan
To dactyls although my mother tongue
Is surely built on the iamb plan.

It's just that when still a juvenile,
Exposed to poems of a certain style,
I grew quite fond of the Limerick
Which some call fun and others vile.

The point in which I find irony
Is that the ones that are dear to me
Do set the pattern to start if off
But are not the Limericks they seem to be.

There once was a man from Japan
Whose Limericks never would scan
  When people asked why
  He replied with a sigh
"It's because I always try to cram as many syllables into the last line as I possibly can."
  
  
There was a fellow from China
Whose Limericks scan much finah
  His Limericks tend
  To come to an end
Suddenly
  
  
Another young gent hailed from Rheemes
With tidier scansion it seems
  She had all the rhymes
  But they're only four lines
  
  
There once was a lady from Crewe
Whose Limericks stopped at line two
  
  
There once was a man from Verdun
  
  
(There's alleged to be a fine Limerick about Nero, but I fear I've never heard it.)
  
And finally:
  
  
There once was a man from St. Bees
Who was stung on the arm by a hornet
  When asked, "Does it hurt?"
  He replied, "No, it doesn't;
I'm just so glad it wasn't a wasp."