A limerick writer who publishes his verse on coffee mugs offers morning cereal box readers, and others, a lighthearted alternative.
By MICHAEL VAN SICKLER
Published March 26, 2004
HUNTER'S GREEN - There once was a man named DeBlock ...
One can just imagine the bawdiness to come if this were a limerick.
It's not, though.
But hey, limerick fans, don't turn that page just yet.
This is a story about a man named Dale DeBlock. And guess what? He likes to write limericks.
"I like my limericks, oh golly yes," DeBlock said. "I want other people to see them."
DeBlock, a Hunter's Green resident, is doing his part in reviving the lost art of the limerick by betting a small portion of his retirement savings from 36 years at State Farm Insurance.
He has written nearly three dozen limericks so far, and more are on the way, he promises.
DeBlock peddles limerick coffee mugs at a Web site, www.cafeshops.com/MugswithMorals. They can be had for $10.99 each. DeBlock gets a dollar for each mug sold.
"I'm not hurting for money, but I thought I could turn a profit on this," said DeBlock, 69. "They're a little pricey, but the price is reasonable for what's being done."
Yet sales have not met DeBlock's expectations.
True, he did sell a bundle of mugs a few weeks back. But he was the one who bought them so he could show them off to friends and family.
"I haven't covered my costs yet," DeBlock said. "The last time I checked, I had zero orders. It's been several months now."
DeBlock blames low sales figures on the fact that his Web site is hard to find. Google users who type in "limericks" won't find his site on the first 40 pages that come up, he laments.
Ah, but those who like their limericks on coffee mugs - and who really knows just how many there are in this particular demographic? - need only type "mugs" and "limericks", and the first hit is DeBlock's site.
Perhaps the larger issue dragging down DeBlock's bottom line is the state of the limerick itself.
Long derided as the drunken stepchild of serious poetry, the limerick has never felt the warm embrace from the literary world enjoyed by its stuffier rivals: couplets, sonnets and blank verse.
Despite having similar aristocratic origins as those forms, limericks have suffered the indignity of enduring the last 260 years linked, arm-in-arm, with nursery rhymes and lewd bar jokes.
The limerick hasn't done itself any favors. Its two best-known performances, Hickere, Dickere Dock and The Man from Nantucket, don't make it easy to shake an infantile and naughty reputation.
DeBlock is well aware of the stratified world of poetry and isn't interested in putting on airs.
"Let's face it," DeBlock said. "Poetry has to be mysterious to be respected. You're supposed to pretend to interpret it and come up with implied ideas. I was never interested in expending that much effort.
"Limericks communicate ideas," DeBlock said. "And they have that comical format. People read a humorous limerick and it tickles them more than if someone just wrote out something."
Indeed, the famed five-line "aabba" rhyme scheme is a blessing and a curse for the limerick.
It's fun to say, easy to remember and perfectly suited for a joke.
But DeBlock wants more from the limerick.
"I raise the bar," DeBlock said. "I don't force it. If I think I have a profound thought, I'll put it in a limerick. Sometimes it's difficult, but in a few days, I'll work it out."
DeBlock attaches a moral at the end of each limerick that sums up the spirit of the poem.
His favorite is a ditty titled Daredevil Duane, which he summarizes with the moral: "Rationalization can ease the fall that pursues pride."
"Daredevil Duane smiled with pride
Gazing up at the train, ere he died.
The race to the crossing,
He'd STILL never lost.
Twelve times he had won . . . and once, tied."
Limerick purists might point out that this is not a true limerick. The fourth line doesn't rhyme with the third. The beats aren't in synch with the limerick format. But such inconsistencies don't bother DeBlock.
"If it sounds right to the ear," DeBlock said. "That's how I judge limericks."
DeBlock writes limericks under the nom de plume of Byron Stone, which he takes from his middle name and his mother's maiden name.
He's proud of his works, which he can recite at a moment's notice.
As he sat on his couch in his Hunter's Green home last week, he interrupted quickly to recite:
"There once was a gnat, always sitting,
Provoking a cat, always spitting.
That gnat that sat,
At that cat that spat,
Died by drowning: a finish most fitting.
"I just get these crazy ideas in my head," DeBlock said. "My wife enjoys them, and as the thoughts come to me, I'll continue to do them."
As he looked at a row of coffee mugs along his kitchen counter, he spoke of one day when his mugs would be more popular.
"I don't want to put these away and shove them in the back of the closet," DeBlock said. "The fun is sharing these with other people."
