Sim ill arse hounds

Another Creative Writing challenge was to produce something where the first line was the same as the last line. Inspired by nonsense poems, I tried to create a series of near-limericks that have the same first and last lines – but also, these repeated lines sound almost identical to the next poem’s first and last lines when recited aloud (Holorimes!). Have you ever misheard, “What’s up, player?” as “What supple layer!”? Then I hope you enjoy these…

Sim ill arse hounds.

Similar Sounds.

A bard bred with a beetle,

A baby was born, curled and fetal,

With seventeen toes,

And a penchant for prose,

A bard bred with a beetle.

A barred bread with a Beatle,

Ringo took his loaf to a free till,

The cashier to the stars,

Said, “this bread has got bars!”

A barred bread with a Beatle.

“Eye-sore”, a socket said, “ibble”,

A sentient house? Incred-ible!

The toilet felt drained,

The windows felt pained,

“Eye-sore”, a socket said, “ibble”.

I saw a sock, it’s edible,

And truly, I fancy a nibble,

For I’m fond of cheeses,

And fungal diseases,

I saw a sock, it’s edible.

Go to said sofa, Sophia,

The floor is lava in Ikea,

Don’t go for that urn,

Or you’ll surely burn,

Go to said sofa, Sophia.

Goat who said, “So far, so fear”,

Was not an avid mountaineer,

With a bad fear of heights,

Constantly causing frights,

Goat who said, “So far, so fear”.

“Beef redux, four steaks a weigh!”

Our butcher cried out yesterday,

As he never did learn,

‘Reduce’ wasn’t ‘Return’,

“Beef redux, four steaks a weigh!”

Be free ducks – Force takes away,

A mallard mixed in a melée,

Had freedom until

He was caught by the Bill,

Be free ducks – Force takes away.

Au fait? Deduct Oberon? What a culler!

Play with no principle parts? Without pallor!

Mechanicals? Gone!

Lovers young? Not-a-one!

Au fait? Deduct Oberon? What a culler!

Oh, faded October on watercolour,

Some may say days are darker and duller,

But autumns of old,

Were all beauty and gold,

Oh, faded October on watercolour.

One’s attitude – star tumescence,

Of pompous and prideful essence,

Bombast without ends,

And not many friends,

One’s attitude, star tumescence.

Once at it, you’d start to mess Ents,

Whilst putting up hammocks and tents,

Take heed as I warn,

Never camp in Fangorn,

Once at it, you’d start to mess Ents.

The route is: by sea go, stupid,

And then catch a train to Madrid,

For planes are a pain,

And the sea surrounds Spain.

The route is: by sea go, stupid.

The rude despise ego, stoop id.

For the superego never did,

Lead a person astray,

Or get in the way.

The rude despise ego, stoop id.

“Two, too, to Tooting, land fare.”

The conductor was caught unaware,

For the 19:03

Only served Battersea!

“Two, too, to Tooting, land fare.”

“Toot-toot-toot-toot!” England fayre,

Filled with pistons and engines and flare,

“See the wonder of steam,

The Victorian dream, at the

Toot-toot-toot-toot! England Fayre!”

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