I’m a tutor who hails from Dubuke.
There’s one student I’ve got to rebuke:
Though I asked for a limer-
Ick, there’s not a glimmer
Of poetry from her; just look!

Here’s her notebook she’s just handed in.
Here’s her “limerick” here; let’s begin.
“A young baker was baking,
“But then, / She, forsaking
“Her work, started reading a comic book about a character called Bugman.”

What’s the value of this stuff, I ask?
Geez, my student’s not up to this task!
If I were my tutee,
With my great lack of beauty,
I’d sneak out of town in a mask!

Perhaps, though, her versical thrummings
Fits those modernist writers’, like cummings…
samneric went flitting
through mudlumps, just sitting—
Naw, she’s more like E. Dickinson. Lemmings

Who love her weird stylings — are weird
And through cul-de-sacs are often steered.
And my student — prefers
Writing fragments like — hers!
Aie! half-rhymes make me tear out my beard.