There once was a poet named Stan
Whose limericks never would scan
When people asked why
This would he reply
It’s because I try to cram as many syllables into the last line as I possibly can

A very sad poet was Jenny.
Her limericks were worth not a penny.
In technique they were sound
but often she found
whenever she tried to write any
she came up with one line too many!

My mind will just fit
in seventeen syllables.
It’s haiku for me!

There is another, which isn’t quite haiku, he reminds me, as each line is one syllable short. (Part of the point? I will assume so and give the benefit of any doubt to the subtlety of the poet’s mind.)

Haiku don’t rime.
This is a haiku crime,
not worth a dime.

I thought of mine as a satirical haiku about haiku writers who think proper format equals art. Yours is much more artful than mine, I must say. The surprise in the third line more in keeping with the tradition of good haiku and also wonderfully self-referential.

My father, a fairly accomplished poet, has also written many haiku, some about the writing of haiku. Perhaps we have all created a sub-genre! I’ll ask him permission to post one or more of his efforts here and we can all admire each other’s wit and sophistication, which is what the Intenet is for, after all.

Geoff

Five short syllables
Seven more for good measure
Then! a surprise