A year's worth of poems, every week for 52 weeks, spanning 2023 and 2024, plus the year following, from August 2024 to August 2025.(provided I live that long, of course).
Thank you, Allan Charles. I've contested the Charlie Chaplin thing a couple of times, won once, if I remember correctly. But it's the kind of thing I try when bored and have nothing better to do - just doesn't seem to have happened lately.
A disgruntled hippy named Stan
once found himself locked in the can
he didn’t half pout
to find no way out
and blamed it, of course, on the man.
His girlfriend, a complete drama queen,
was looking decidedly green,
she’d swallowed some grass,
now had terrible gas
and drove everyone else from the scene.
The moral of this sorry tale,
though it may seem a little bit stale,
is to keep a spare key
where no one can see,
and tell your dealer no sale.
Line count: 15
Form: A serial limerick
For Promptly Poetry Challenge, Week 9, 2023
Prompt: Your poem should include the following phrase: "no way out."
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