dashing dinner

There once was a cowherd from Daegu,
who liked reams of red meat in his stew.
Said his wife one warm eve
as she darned his ripped sleeve,
“tonight’s feast ran off, mooing ‘screw you!’”

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This is an older poem of mine that I came across today.  My husband and I lived in Daegu, South Korea from 2012 to 2015.  Daegu is pronounced “tay-goo”.  The original didn’t include the anapest that is desired for the limerick form, so I am slowly working on putting it in there.  This version still needs some work.

our armored borough

Deep in our burning bowl,
colorless carp writhe along
river veins, concealed under
hydrangea tears.  In the
coming days, good citizens,
carved from ivory and
emerald, will be driven beneath
browning branches and into cool
corners with strawberry-butterscotch
stars swimming in their eyes.  Those
who endure shall frolic in
chrysanthemum’s shadow.

The Tranquil Tiger

Rippling crystal becomes bistered and soiled,
staining learned thumbs with mud from this noble
land.  Immature garnet tresses lay slumped beside
woven palm leaf, gasping for air with the fire of our
founder on their faces.  They will never know the
power of their ancestors, those heaven sent messengers
with twisted fingers, blighted by warts, but which smell
of tropical winds.  One quick slice and a tiger’s hide
is exposed.  Stripped of black bands, the beast is tamed,
becoming a willing servant to body’s desires.