POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.


Ogden Nash

Many of you who know me (at least in the literary sense) know I am a huge fan of Ogden Nash.  He wrote some of the funniest, wittiest, most clever poetry ever.  In honor of one of my poetry idols, I give you the Nasher.

So, what is it?  According to John Drury in his The Poetry Dictionary, a Nasher is, ‘a light-verse form, invented by Ogden Nash, in which lines ranging from very short to extremely long *rhyme comically in* couplets.’

It’s basically a license to write anything poetic that you wish, just so long as the lines (in couplet form) end in end-rhyme or even wrenched end-rhyme.  But, to the uninitiated what does that mean?  It means that you, as the poet, have free reign (if you’re so inclined) to somewhat indiscriminately add suffixes, play with homophones and even make up words.  Or not.

A famous example by Mr. Nash is from Kindly Unhitch That Star, Buddy:

Some people think they will eventually wear diamonds
instead of rhinestones

Only by everlastingly keeping their noses to their

Here are a few examples by moi:

Cognito Ergo Sum

Meditations on First Philosophy was criticized by Kierkegaarde,
saying the pre-supposition of the concept of ‘I’ showed blatant disregaarde,

since ‘cogito’ could not be a logical argument. In fact, he claimed it was logically trivial.
But perhaps that was only because Søren and René had never gone out for a drink or repast that was convivial.

So, is there something to the words: “Je pense donc je suis?”
Well, I don’t claim to be a philosopher but on this one point I feel I must agree…

if I think I am, then I am (I think), since if I pinch myself, I know it will smartes.
And if I’m at the grocery store I also think I must pay for what’s in Descartes.


Not an Emergency

If you miss your deadline, if you’re running late or if you just screwed up, please don’t hand me a line
because bad planning on your part does not, in any way, constitute an emergency on mine.

A Nasher for the Geocacher

What could be more fun than to hunt for some hidden treasure?
You can take the whole family – or some friends – or just go by yourself, and scout it out at your leisure.

All you have to do, is plug all the magic coordinates into your GPS device
and within a roughly 6 to 20 foot vicinity, the location’s pinpointed by triangulation, and it is fairly precise.

It’s all done by satellites, which are miles up in the sky
with signals that are bounced back down to earth with a full longitude and latitude supply.

But … once in the zone, the prize, you’ll have to very carefully seek,
in order to find its concealed spot in a tree hollow, trestle, rock formation, crevice, culvert or the bed of a creek.

But once you find the cache, which should be in some sort of waterproof container or box
you can open it quickly, since generally, there are no deadbolts, or combination locks.

Once inside the ‘treasure chest’, you’ll find all sorts of trinkets and gewgaws,
and key chains, Travel Bugs, Geocoins, breakfast cereal toys and other jolly fooferaws.

The idea is to take something, but to leave something else (of similar nature) in its place
for the next Geocacher, on another treasure hunt, who will find and open that particular treasure case.

Additionally, there’s usually a logbook and a pencil provided for you to record
your visit to the Geocache.  You can mark how you found it, and how you claimed your reward.

But please be mindful of that bauble pot, and when finished, kindly put it back where you uncovered it.
Then someone else can play the game, since they will be happy to have, at last, discovered it.


So…are you ready for this gnasher mission?

Ready…set…go!  Start your poeming ignition!


A Tattle Tale

“Twitchy” Mitch is tattle-rich.
I’d take the twitch and ditch the snitch.

© copyright 2013, Marie Elena Good

On Nasher!

Revealed:  Ogden’s former career?
’Twas Nasher, the Rhymin’ Reindeer!

But this abecedarian authoritarian’s verses
Were aeronautically challenging.  Curses.

© copyright 2013, Marie Elena Good



From the 24th of Decemberer
as long as I can rememberer,

I had a certain thing for her
(since early in the Spring, I’m sure)

A loving lass with loads of class,
and a slightly full well-rounded ass,

most playful with a bit of sass,
as Northern woman have I guess.

In social circles she would mingle,
and watching her would make me tingle

to the very tips of all my fingles,
she makes my toes and my bells jingle.

Immortal as the day is long,
these northern women are built strong,

and sing a slightly different song
(though her voice will hit most notes all wrong).

Up here upon this frozen isthmus,
all the elflets prepare for Christhmus,

while I canoodle with the Misthus
under mistletoe to kiss this

lovely woman, Mrs. Claus,
The reason I always return of course.

My refreshing little Christmas pause
when my journey’s done, I’ll bare my Claus

(she likes me like that, just because
for I am her jolly Santa Claus!)

© copyright 2013, Walter J Wojtanik

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  1. I’m giggling at these, yet trembling with fear
    that I’l never be able to imitate the form nor even come near.

    but wait, I hear you say,
    you’ve just done it, so who am I to say you nay.

    It’s ike that other funny form,
    the limerick that comes too easily until it becomes the norm.

    Then, darn it, you’ll find
    that no other kind of poetry will come to mind.

  2. Well, my mind drew a complete blank for Sunday’s prompt and it’s not doing much better for this one… I HATE WRITING ANYTHING FUNNY! (Not to mention the fact that I can’t) There, I said it. 😉 Now here’s my attempt:

    It Means Something Different For Each Person

    When he told her they’d always be together,
    He didn’t know she’d think he meant forever…

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      Hang in there, friend, you wrote a little something…. ❤ !! 🙂 !!

    • “Funny” is a funny thing … it comes to some always and to some seldom. It comes to some automatically, and some painstakingly. Some recognize and appreciate it, but can’t come up with it on their own. For RJ, it seems a deep part of her very being.

      I’m somewhere in the middle. But I’m like that with most of my writing. Now and then, something I’m quite happy with just seems to slip out easily. Most times, however, it takes me a lot of time and effort to write ANYTHING … even a cohesive comment. 😉 My cousins on the Italian side of family trade puns and wordplay, one after the other, in an instant. I just sit there an laugh ’til my tummy hurts, but I can’t join in. My brain just doesn’t think that quickly.

      Don’t worry about your funny bone, kiddo. You write everything else GORGEOUSLY!!

    • haha, they do think differently.

    • Funny, true sad all at the same time. Bravo.

  3. oh, oh, oh
    Ogden Nash is my first poetic love.

    Off to do (try to do) justice.

  4. The Winter Muffler

    My head has me down,
    I’m wearing a frown.

    My voice sounds like gravel,
    my vocal threads need to unravel.

    My nose sniffles and snorts,
    I wish I could sneeze diamonds or rose quartz!

    Oh my and that conniving, stab you in the back of throat, tickle
    just sneaks up on me with monumental surprise, causing me to hack and quickly eat depickle!

    Ew! I didn’t mean to grab a pickle, the sour taste does nothing for the wiggling in my throat!
    Quick grab a drink, eat some toast, ah finally, suck on hard candy, like sticking my throat in a coat.

    Ah yes, I’m miserable, you really shouldn’t stop by, good manners would dictate my hospitality
    but really, if you stay too long, I might forget to cover my mouth and the germs may fly up your nose-itality!

  5. A NASHER?

    A poet
    would know it.

    © Susan Schoeffield


    It’s clear to me this Nasher thing has found me sorely lacking.
    I think November’s PAD has sent my poet packing.

    © Susan Schoeffield

  7. flashpoetguy on said:


    When I was young I thought the future a promising ball of gold,
    A mini-planet filled with well-earned treasures to enjoy when I grew old

    But on my way to tomorrow I got caught up in yesterday.
    Instead of hard work I let myself get entangled in too much child play.

    I could have been a contender In life or at least a runner-up
    Had I not succumbed to frivolities that stole my winner’s cup.

    What will I say in my defense when I finally cross the line?
    “Too many women. Too many songs and much too much wine.



    It seems that I’ve gone and done something grand,
    but to get the award and shake the hand
    of my boss’s boss’s boss for doing my job
    I have to wear a damned tie…can’t “look like a slob.”
    My speech is all planned, I think it quite it funny:
    “Please, hold your applause, just show me the money.”

  9. When writing in rhyme was not a crime

    Sometimes I will write the silly stuff residing in my head
    That should have been tossed into the waste-basket instead

    For now I see people walking around with wires in their ear
    When not so long ago their music was loud enough for everyone to hear

    Once people sang of Texas and its yellow rose
    And a home where buffalo roamed and prickly cactus grows

    Everyone knew of Iowa and its corn that touched the sky
    Even the old folks hummed along to that sweet bye and bye

    Little kids sang of a ring around Rosie and the farmer in the dell
    They rocked a-bye the baby and cried when down it fell

    When night time came and the babies were put to bed
    Sweet dreams and lullabyes lingered in their heads.

  10. Rotten to the Core

    Adam and Eve had to leave Eden in the fall.
    The angels barred the gate and exiled us all.

    Some say it’s a story, some an example
    but this bittersweet world is a sample

    of things gone wrong and Eden it ain’t
    for sinner or saint!

  11. Laurie Kolp on said:


    We’ll discuss gifts
    if you insist,

    but I must expose
    how my intentions arose–

    a brief moment of clarity
    when time became a mystery

    and all the stuff I could touch
    didn’t matter that much.

    What’s more meaningful to me
    is you beside the Christmas tree.

  12. elishevasmom on said:

    Scene of the Crime

    Looking for inspiration in my kitchen to write a Nasher,
    my gaze fell upon the humble potato masher.

    Although it was words (not potatoes) I would be mincing,
    the results wouldn’t be near as charming as my curtains that were chintzing

    their way across my windows
    so as not to leave them all in limbos.

    Alas, in my ramblings I digressed,
    instead of working on words to digest.

    So back to the literary workshop I returned,
    trying to braise the words, saute them with finesse, so as not to get burned.

    But in the end, the words got so smashed I wanted to swear.
    WhO waS Up and wHerE waS DowN made for some pretty bad fare.

    Even though I sprinkled some of the letters with sage,
    that didn’t stop them from falling off the page.

    In the end I decided to set the whole kit and caboodle free,
    and sat down instead with some herbal tea.

    Ellen Evans 12.4.13
    write a “nasher” for PB

  13. Pingback: Poem: An Award | Wanna Get Published, Write!

  14. RJ and Marie
    You had me laughing out loud
    Tee Hee!
    I’m sure of one thing
    My bells you’ll always ring…
    (talk about your forced rhymes..)
    But we always have good tymes 🙂

    Love to you two sweeties
    Your infrequent poet, Sara vees

    I love Ogden too

  15. “Lessons from a miser on triple-couponing”

    According to parsimonious Everett McPrudent
    no one ever graduates from grocery-shopping student

    to teacher to expert to grand master of the coupon
    (Pardon me, would you happen to have any Grey Poupon?)

    without acquiring one of life’s finer pleasures,
    (vastly overrated, but of course a great treasure)—

    The free procurance of Baluga gray caviar (fragile, defiled)
    respectfully espied in the bargain-basement aisle.

  16. RJ–I’ve heard that saying before but never in a couplet. I’m saving your version.

  17. Pingback: The Nasher | Writing On The Sun

  18. Pingback: Tut Tut…Well You Know the Rest-Rain and Such | Metaphors and Smiles

  19. Tut Tut…Well You Know the Rest-Rain and Such
    Some try to lighten heavy moods around the mishap of mist,
    they’ll say look your miasma kissed!
    They’ll say of the out and out lousy-damp that it’s mysterious, murky and shrouded
    but I beg to differ, this ether’s cold and quite clouded.
    This all-consuming darkness, this blanket of freezing, this lingering pall-
    I say it’s like walking, (face-first), directly into a wall.
    She’ll say it’s good, it’s a healthy vapor
    but I say this is ridiculous, this haze is a pilferer of sun and a traitor.
    Regardless, I won’t let a rainy day get me down I’ll walk my dog in the fog,
    nevertheless, I’ll cough and sputter in this citified smog.
    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013

  20. I’m Sick

    Freezing breezes squeezing sneezes
    lead to wheezes, coughs, and worse.
    First you burn and then you freezes,
    can’t discern your cat from purse.
    You go to doc so sick your knees is
    knocking. Is it plague or curse?
    He listens to your lungs. Oh, Geez-es,
    You’ve come down with Nasher Verse!

  21. janeshlensky on said:

    Still Sick

    Take three of these and one of these
    each day with food, a snack will do.
    There may be minor side effects,
    but nothing that should trouble you.
    At first I’m groggy, feeling foggy,
    wondering when sleep will come,
    but in its stead a hippofroggy
    dances in beating a drum.
    It moves its hips, it trips, it trills,
    its hind legs springing, marching drills.
    It’s entertaining; I’m not complaining,
    but I’m refraining from taking pills.

  22. Nashers

    He was cold as ice; she was sweet as cream
    They concocted a dessert and named it ice cream.

    Once a chorus
    sang songs of love in the forest
    They were so tuneless, they bored us
    We were so rude, they abhored us.

    I used to be a shy, sweet lass
    then became risque, alas!
    Since no one would speak to me
    I adopted a Pekinese.

  23. Child’s First Snowman

    Snow fell heavily
    And she dressed warmly,

    Heavy boots on little feet,
    Coat, hat, gloves, to make complete

    Pinky rose
    Little nose;

    She builds a snowman
    With her chubby hands,

    Clumsily stacks the snowballs,
    Takes a step backward, and falls

    On her back
    With a smack…

    The snowman watches,
    His eyes black blotches

    In a cold, snow-whitey face
    That can’t seem to stay in place…

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

  24. With Apologies to the Panther

    To refuse a boa constrictor’s embrace
    is definitely not a disgrace.

    Don’t be hospitable but take off like a rocket
    to keep all your bones in their sockets.

  25. William Preston on said:


    When I was reading Ogden Nash one day,
    I chanced upon a limick. What, you say?

    Yes, Nash would write these ditties in a flash;
    perhaps because he needed a bit of cash.

    Y’see, he used a limerick, truncated
    by a foot and a line, an abbreviated

    form, you might say, sort of a bastard
    that one might write if one was good and plastered,

    which, as far as I know, was not the case with Ogden,
    but there may have been times when his brain was good and clogged in.

    Anyway, the best way to display a limick is by example,
    so here is a limpid limick, just a sample:

    When Ogden was writing
    the crappies were biting;
    he grabbed his old rod
    for games more exciting.

    So, there, y’see, is what a limick is:
    a pithy piece for poets and for mimickes.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  26. Take two Nashers and Call Me in the Morning

    I have a cough, more on than off.
    You want to scoff, so go ahead.
    My breathing rattles, cats skedaddle
    running far from my sickbed.
    But when I sleep, they deftly creep
    back up and lie across my feet.
    Dreamystery, cathistory
    are catalyzed in fur-lined heat.

  27. Dashingly Nashingly

    I think dashingly
    To write nashingly

    Whether senseless drivel
    Or painful hopeless friffel

    One should do his best to concentrate
    Lest his brain begin to degenerate

    Or perhaps let loose and let the fingers fly wild
    Spilling forth the words like a newly freed child

    Words so dashingly
    Written nashingly

    All in rhyme
    Two at a time

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  28. ejparsons on said:

    The Nash Rambler
    (Tales of trips in two line blips)

    I once took a trip, to Maine’s Northern tip, a trip, to the tip, that did whip me in the butt
    Up there it’s all trees, with big flies and buzzing bees, the trees, and the bees, and a Bigfoot! Say what!?

    I remember the day, out St. Louis way, took a day to get away, eighteen holes I would play
    But before I could play, that nice day went away, an F2 came to play, and we all hid away

    ‘Twas a new land that I would see, for the Air Force sent me, ‘cross the sea, to Deutschland, Germany
    No other people would be, so free and friendly, it’s still special to me, that Germany

    Then to another foreign land, the rising sun of Japan, not a fan of Japan, least not before I did land
    Soon I found that Japan became my new favorite land, now I’m a fan of the foreign land, Japan

    Now I’m in the Sunshine State, where fun awaits, and I stay up late, in the Sunshine State
    The state is a great place to relocate or immigrate, don’t hesitate or debate, relocate to the Sunshine State

    I’ve been other places of course
    Both in and out of the Air Force

    But it’s late you see
    Late for you, not me

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  29. This: “Tales of trips in two line blips” made me believe … and I do!

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