I live in Hollywood with my husband, son, and dog. I co-direct the Southern California Poetry Festival, and I'm just getting ready to launch the Rise Up Review, which is dedicated to poems of opposition. My first book of poems, Boy with a Halo at the Farmer's Market won the 2014 Codhill Book Prize. I'm in the process of assembling my PhD application because, at 45 years old, I'm still trying to figure out what I'm going to do when I grow up. In the meantime, I'm building up my vita at soniagreenfield.com.
N I N E L I M E R I C K S
There was a young woman named Sonia
Who feasted on cake and lasagna
Her belly got big
As she supped like a pig
But she’s pregnant, so folks said “Good on ya!”
Squeezing out my little baby’s head
Fills me with a sense of dread
Will I push mainland China
Through the hole in my vagina
Or is he Luxembourg instead?
There was a little fetus named Scooter
Whose in utero pic couldn’t be cuter
In Vegas conceived
His parents perceived
His daddy must be a straight shooter!
There was a young lady from Leicester
Well into her third trimester
She cleaned with great feeling
Even scrubbed down the ceiling
Not a bird, but still quite a nester.
A knocked-up girl from Monroe
Sought fame which seemed apropos
Although not her plan
Once her labor began
She was the star of her own bloody show.
Labor stories are meant to scare
Though I’m pregnant with nary a care
My water may break
While I’m out having steak
But the chance is medium-rare.
I prefer my skin smooth and bare
Sleek legs with no public hair
But I’m shaped like a keg
I can’t reach my legs
And I guess there’s a beaver down there?
Miserly Mademoiselle Joanie
Kept her spare change in her yoni
And lucky young Mitch
He struck it quite rich
When he slipped her his fat baloney
Canine inclined Mister Charlie
Had a small dog he called Barley
He slipped him his dick
To encourage a lick
But the bite he received was quite gnarly
©2016 Sonia Greenfield
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