The Clerihew Contest

 

At every national Chesterton Conference they have a clerihew contest. As I was not goign to attend this summer, I sent Dale Ahlquist some clerihews and asked him to submit them for me. (Actually, I asked him to inflict them on the judges.)

Apparently he did. Thanks Dale. Not sure how the judges feel about it.

I've heard from two different people that I got an honorable mention in one of the categories, but they did not know which poem made the cut.

I'll have to wait for the next issue of Gilbert.

But for now, here are the ones I submitted: 

Before Chesterton

We can probably assume Saint Blaise
is in Heaven these days.
Martyrdom likely led him to eternal glory
and not just some fish story.


Elizabeth Barrett Browning
sat in her parlor frowning.
Robert had bought her something labeled "Serra da Estrela cheese,"
that clearly wasn't Portuguese.


St. Robert Southwell
sat musing for a spell,
then sadly said, “It does seem a shame
Americans don’t properly pronounce my name.”


During Chesterton

Lord Peter Wimsey
was never deterred by evidence flimsy,
but his confidence suffered years of strain
when faced with the mystery of Harriet Vane.


Hilaire Belloc
walked off the end of a dock,
but being in the middle of a debate,
he failed to recognize his fate.



H. G. Wells
crafted some literary hells.
When it comes to romance, too,
he created more than a few.


After Chesterton


Alfred Hitchcock
developed a bad case of writer's block
despite his use of a bran muffin
as the MacGuffin.


In the kitchen, Julia Child
was amusing but never wild.
To fill that void
we had to rely on Dan Aykroyd.


Megan Rapinoe
picked up a banjo.
As she played a tune on it,
she sang, "That #$@&*! is full of %@!#*"


Matthew Perry,
boarded Charon’s ferry.
As Charon pushed off, Perry was heard to crack.
“That parachute really WAS a knapsack.”