Author: Richard R. Linden

Prepare for a festive endeavour:

A limerick each day—aren’t I clever?

From one up to twenty-four,

Then a final encore…

It’s the best Limerick countdown ever.

That neighbour’s got lights on the shed,

Round the chimney, the bins, and the bed.

Before winter’s begun,

They’ve outshone the sun:

It’s a wonder their fuse box’s not dead!

November and Thursday, I find,

Have a similarly sluggish design.

Both dreary and grey,

Both dragging the day—

The month and the weekday that grind.

I tried to plug in my USB,

But it wouldn’t go it was mocking me!

I flipped it around,

and that’s when I found…

Then the first way was right, naturally.

Alexa please turn on the light,

No! That’s wrong! Not quite!

Maybe I’m misheard,

Or my phrasing’s absurd,

I don’t want dim, I want bright!

There was a fellow (me) with intent:

On a countdown before the event:

He wanted to begin,

A tool to count in:

“A calendar for Advent’s advent.”

A Yorkshireman’s comfort is clear:

A roast pudding that they hold dear.

With gravy it’s crowned,

On Sundays renowned,

Without, a roast dinner is austere.

The pile of mugs grows bigger,

A monument to my vigour.

I drank through the night,

For deadlines in sight!

Now I am awake and I quiver.

I cannot knot this knot;

It tightens itself when it ought not.

I follow the guide,

But strands slip aside:

My efforts all come to naught!