|Poetic Form: Limerick|
| A popular form in children’s verse, the limerick is often comical, nonsensical, and sometimes even lewd. The form is well known to generations of English-speaking readers, by way of Mother Goose nursery rhymes, first published in 1791. Composed of five lines, the limerick adheres to a strict rhyme scheme and bouncy rhythm, making it easy to memorize.
Typically, the first two lines rhyme with each other, the third and fourth rhyme together, and the fifth line either repeats the first line or rhymes with it. The limerick’s anapestic rhythm is created by an accentual pattern that contains many sets of double weakly-stressed syllables. The pattern can be illustrated with dashes denoting weak syllables, and back-slashes for stresses:
1) – / – – / – – /
2) – / – – / – – /
3) – / – – /
4) – / – – /
5) – / – – / – – /
Oh, good lord…yes I succumbed. I was going to skip this poetic form all-together, but it seemed rather odd to pass over an often “lewd” form of poetry on an almost always “lewd” blog. So, there. On to something more substantial….coming up next is the ode. Hard to write, but rewarding, nonetheless. I actually have written a few of these before – one is even published on this site (Ode to Love).
Now…on to the topic at hand…DOES SIZE REALLY MATTER? And yes, I’m referring to male anatomy here. I suppose it’s a matter of opinion (which you are encouraged to share in the comments), but since this is my blog, it’s all about my opinion. So here you go…. my official answer is “sorta”.
See, it can’t be so small that it poses a problem. Several years ago when I was still dating and having a string of one-night-stands in an effort to make myself feel more powerful and forget my own insecurities, I took this one, sweet, milk-toast boy to bed. I went down on him to get him hard, but what popped into my mouth was roughly the size of my pointer finger. I hoped and prayed it was just in a “flaccid” state and would harden once in my pussy. But, as I guided him in and began to ride him, I realized this poor soul was cursed with the tiniest penis I’ve ever beheld on a grown man. It really was the first time (and last) that I rolled off a guy during sex, got up, put my clothes on and walked out. I’m not really mean, but shit – he could have warned me! In all seriousness, I feel terrible for that guy. A few years later, I saw him in another city, walking around holding hands with a girl. They looked happy, so I suppose that’s proof that it’s all a matter of opinion (unless the poor girl was saving herself for marriage – what a stunning disappointment that would be).
On the other hand…it can’t be too big. My first long-term beau patiently waited for me to feel “ready”. At 16 I finally conceded and we had sex on his mattress on the floor in his parents’ single wide trailer. It was incredibly romantic (not)….but then first-time sex is really an act of utter astonishment for most girls. Technically, I knew what to expect. I’d masturbated a million times before this and had inserted a plethora of objects inside of me. But, I was completely unprepared for the John Holmes replica that my boyfriend slowly (thank god!) squeezed into my virgin cave. Holy crap! Tears, holes bitten into my bottom lip to stave off whimpers of sheer distress. Honestly, he was as gentle as he could have been and didn’t even finish (awww….what a gentleman) because he knew it was killing me. I tried it with him again (6 times to be exact) thinking I’d get used to it. I never did. And I worried for a long time that sex was always going to be like that.
The final verdict? Average size + above-average technique = perfection.