Okay Douglas you're giving me limerick brain

I just keep forgetting to do this until the very end of the day. It's been a good day! House meeting in the morning, then an overdue trip to the post office to mail some boxes that've been sitting in the guest room for months, then room cleaning and babystuff organizing. Finished packing to get ready for the hospital. Stopped by a friend's birthday party, then home to monitorsit Petra so her parents could slip out for a bit on a quick date. I'm cheating here; I'm going to post this ramble now so the timestamp on this post will be pre-midnight, then work on the actual poem...

Guys, I blush to report, here's what I could come up with before Mike pulls me to bed...

The thing about pregnancy’s bladder

is that it doesn’t seem to matter

whether I drank

a thimble or tank;

I have to pee badder and badder.

FC #2

In Japan, Shilo plans his attack,

While poor Nix tries to bring his word back.

   Kraken gives Bruce the squeeze;

   Flashes flee from black skis.

See how Turpin's changed? (Do you know Jack?)

Pregnancy is tired-making

Sigs in the fire

try me try me

gonna wake up get up

never in my life

goddamn chirping

battery’s low

which one is it?

I don’t know

have a sip of beer

have a sip of wine

perch inside my liver

tell me it’ll be fine

FC #1

Martian, martial: both gods fall to fire,

As we start at the docks and move higher.

   Turpin bows to the "Boss,"

   Man gains Nix (Weeja's loss)--

And just what does Kamandi require?

Best husband cuddles

Hero of my skin,

which during the day

may have cramped with tension

or shivered with anxiety--

when his warm arms wrap around me

breath & stubble on my back

there’s no resisting

the peace that creeps through,

soothes all my hairs back down.

Like hosting a cat on my lap:

I need to do things but

I cannot move now,

not right now

when the guileless gift

of warm-honey touch

pours through all the bits of me

now puddling on the bed.

Nothing is so precious.

I put off the chores,

hold my bladder still,

furiously cherish

this calm before the storm.

Final Crisis limericks: DCU #0

(A little explanation here. A few years back, I wrote online annotations to a comic book miniseries called Final Crisis. Its readers are divided between those who insist that it's incomprehensible and those who insist that it's perfectly comprehensible. I'm one of the latter, and recently chatted with one of the former. I offered to write him a plot summary. He said "that's impossible!" That just doubled my resolve--and, since a slightly expanded collection of Final Crisis was released this week, I figured I might as well do it as limericks, one per issue... which is also my chance to finally get on the BlankaDay train.)

Who's falling through space to the quay?

Whose knuckles krack Kirbyishly?

   Libra's preaching the text

   Of the Crime Bible; next

Comes the lightning. Says Barry, "It's me!"