Limerick Ills (Limerick-Off Monday)
It’s Limerick-Off time, once again. And that means I write a limerick, and you write your own, using the same first line. Then you post your limerick here and, if you’re a Facebook user, on Facebook too.
The best submission will be crowned Limerick Of The Week. (Here’s last week’s Limerick Of The Week Winner.)
How will your poems be judged? By meter, rhyme, cleverness, and humor. (If you’re feeling a bit fuzzy about limerick writing rules, here’s my How To Write A Limerick article.)
I’ll announce the Limerick of the Week Winner next Sunday, right before I post next week’s Limerick-Off. So that gives you a full week to submit your clever, polished verse. Your submission deadline is Saturday at 11:59 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A woman was feeling quite ill…*
or
A fellow who often spoke ill…*
or
A gal was convinced she was ill…*
or
A man would pretend to be ill…*
*(Please note that minor variations to my first lines are acceptable. However, rhyme words may not be altered, except by using homonyms or homophones.)
Here’s my limerick:
Limerick Ills
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Poison ivy can make you quite ill
And lead to a large doctor’s bill.
You’re allergic? Could be
That you need an IV,
And may itch to attend to that will.
Please feel free to write your own limerick using the same first line and post it in my comments. And if you’re on Facebook, I hope you’ll join my friends in that same activity on my Facebook Limerick-Off post.
To receive an email alert whenever I post a new Limerick-Off, please email Madkane@MadKane.com Subject: MadKane’s Newsletter. Thanks!
Tags: Competition Limerick, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
I beg that you don’t think me ill,
But the music I loved, I love still.
And now we have “Rap”,
With no reason to clap.
I feel music has sled right downhill.
A gal who was feeling quite ill
Said bravely, “I just have a chill.”
But the cause of malaise
Was one Nature obeys
When a woman forgets just one Pill.
A fellow who never was ill
Felt sick when he parted from Jill.
Although it was risky
She made her own whisky –
It’s over, though he loves her still.
A man would pretend to be ill
Bunked off work — racing’s more of thrill!
He was caught out at Ayr
Being all unaware
Of the TV crew filming at will.
A woman was feeling quite ill
Said piously, “It is God’s will
If I live or I die –
No treatment take I!”
Sad to say, she went quickly downhill.
A fellow who often spoke ill
Of his colleagues and boss at the mill
On this point would enthuse
At job interviews
He’s no clue why he’s at that job still!
Scots people, whenever they’re ill
For hospital, linctus or pill
Need spend no largesse
For with Scots NHS
They’re facing no medical bill.
A man who enjoyed being ill
Rented movies: Kill Bill, The Big Chill…
Watched each DVD
On his bedroom TV
‘Til the time came to see Dr. Phil.
A gal was convinced she was ill
When her midriff started to fill.
But some nine months later,
With perambulator,
She remembered forgetting the Pill.
A man would pretend to be ill
To skip work and daily fulfill
A dream to be seen
As a carnival queen,
A passion that gave him a thrill.
The lad, Jack, was feeling quite ill,
After fetching some water with Jill.
In the original rhyme,
They glossed over a crime:
He was pushed, not fell, down the hill.
A fellow was feeling quite ill
After eating his wife’s junket, until
He dropped dead on the spot,
And she inherited the lot:
Where there’s a whey there’s a will.
You are cruel choosing that rhyme word, because the obvious ‘pill’ doesn’t actually rhyme with it! *thinking cap*
A woman was feeling quite ill
Her appearance did not fill the bill
She had a red nose
And when the subject arose
They gave her a sugar coated pill
A man would pretend to be ill
And would drive to the clinic at will
Just to see that cute nurse
But he felt much worse
When he opened the large doctor bill.
That’s actually me up there–my computer cursor keeps bouncing around on me. :-)
A fellow was feeling quite ill,
When girl friend said she’d skipped the pill,
And at their last mating,
Was then ovulating,
When he would with love juices fill.
Something mama ate is making her ill
It could be ice cream flavored with dill
Was feeling quite fickle
Ate pistachio and pickle
Now pregnant feeling green in the gill
Sticker shock is making me ill
Reviewing this huge repair bill
for parts and labor
why screw your neighbor
When you know they’re not on the pill
Rosie’s raps are particularly ill
Quite dope and at times even chill
on the assembly line
she produces rhyme
Her label is ‘Run of the Mill’
A woman was feeling quit ill
Cause she forgot to take ‘the morning after pill’
So now with child
After feeling defiled
Thought, “I’ll let Bubbua pay the doctor’s bill.
I am going to be hated by every entrant so far for this. (I suppose near rhymes will fill the bill, but still!)
All purists are feeling quite ill
That nobody knows only ‘hill’
Can rhyme here; not ‘pill’,
‘Bill’, ‘fill’, ‘drill’, or ‘mill’ –
To use which, lacks all rhyming skill!
P.S. Does the above apply with an American accent, I wonder?
A gal was convinced she was ill
To any and everyone she’d spill
With details replete
She’d never retreat
Until, one day, I offered my bill
A fellow who often spoke ill
Of gals who weren’t on the pill.
Said he wasn’t a putz
Took a cut to the nuts
And lay down with no worry at will.
A gal was convinced she was ill
After drinking a gallon of swill
It wasn’t the drink
Turned her face deep red pink
But the thrill of hot nights in steamy Brazil.
A gal would pretend to be ill,
Then said “Phil I’m not on the pill.”
To her utter dismay
He went on his way
Plan B was the drill after after nights of sweet thrill.
A woman was feeling quite ill
At GMO’s government shills.
She then made a vow-
“Stop Monsanto NOW!”
“We won’t buy or eat toxic swill!”
Here’s mine:
Look Out Below!
A woman was feeling quite ill
Regretted not taking her pill
With bun in the oven
From who know whose no good luv’n
Feinted as she sucked on a dill
A man who often spoke ill
Rose above the political swill
Claimed nothing’s his fault
Well….except that assault
Which ended in Bin Laden’s kill
:D:D:D
A poetic writer was ill
So her friend said: “Lend me your quill
As burning a feather
On your parts most nether
Will bacteria and bugs surely kill”.
She bared her rear-end to fulfil
Killing all the bacteria at will
But an enflamed fart
Blew the maiden apart
They are mourning her poetry still.
The mallard was feeling quite ill
So the duck doctor gave him a pill.
But the bird blew his stack,
‘Cause the doc was a quack,
And charged him a wing and a bill.
Blagojevich once governered Ill-
Inois with his hand in the till.
When caught in a crime,
He was sentenced to time
In a prison where he’s serving still.
A guy would pretend to be ill
When his wife went off of the pill
His life’s on the skids
As he had seven kids
And he couldn’t pay off any bill
****************************************************
A guy would pretend to be ill-er
As his wife always wanted a thrill-er
He couldn’t adjust
her insatiable lust
and so he turned into a kill-her
****************************************************
A guy would pretend to be ill-ie
When his wife went off of the pill-ie
He couldn’t afford
another small ward
Which would make his Willie go Nil-ie
Come visit at The Writers Village
A fellow who often spoke ill…
Of others around to his fill
It was unwise
Was ostracized
Stopped his rumor-mongering mill
Hank
A woman was feeling quite ill
And ailed and ailed until
Mirabile dictu
He husband got sick too
Which cured her of gall and ill will.
I’m feeling a bit of elation
For the vicar, his roof and their nation.
Yes, I am feeling glad
Even though it is sad
That something got lost in translation.
A man would pretend to be ill
To get dosed on a mind-numbing pill
Doc heard his description
And wrote this prescription
“Piss off now, we’ll send you the bill”
A woman was feeling quite ill,
at the thought of that five dollar bill,
in the crack of her butt,
she becomes such a slut,
when Tequila determines her will.
A woman was sure she was ill:
No longer from Hubs any thrill.
But her shrink merely coughed
And alleged he’d gone soft.
So, whose problem? Who cares? Take a pill.
A man who was frequently ill
Was told to eat plenty of krill
Which his doctor, a shark,
Had prescribed as a lark
Then sent him a whale of a bill.
A partier feeling quite ill
was leaning out a window sill
He got up to leave
right after his heave
as folks on the porch looked to kill
A flautist became rather ill
with seizures whenever she’d trill
Her biggest of gripes
was with “Stars & Stripes”
her seizure of Sousa was shrill!
** edit of above **
A flautist became rather ill
with epilepsy when she’d trill
Her biggest of gripes
was with “Stars & Stripes” –
Her seizure of Sousa was shrill!
This evening I’m feeling quite ill;
The buffet had way too much grill.
After meatloaf and salmon
And oysters and gammon
I ought to have passed on the krill.
a woman got violently ill,
throwing up on her red Coupe de Ville
she sopped up the barf
on the hood with her scarf
but it never came out of the grille
A fellow who often spoke ill
Of his aunt was left out of her will
This rascally knave
Went to dance on her grave
But ‘twas damp; the cad died from a chill
A gal was convinced she was ill
after eating an off-tasting dill.
She asked her poor spouse
why he’s still in the house
and not fetching a curative pill.
A fellow who often spoke ill
took his seat on Capitol Hill.
He found fault with Obama
even blaming his mama.
He’d learned the Republican drill.
A woman was feeling quite ill
Having just read her grandmother’s will
Granny must have been stoned
Left her cat all she owned
And the woman was penniless still
If there’s one thing that makes me feel ill,
It’s the sound of a dentist’s cruel drill.
Have I gone? Not for years,
Not with all of these fears.
But Today? Nope, I haven’t the will.
Would you think I was mentally ill
If I told you I still get a thrill
From humming along
To a rarely-heard song,
The Beatles’ “The Fool on the Hill”?
The sound of that drill makes me ill.
Must a dentist use one that’s so shrill?
But all that will pass,
Once he gives me the gas,
Then I’ll chill, till I’m handed the bill.
This fellow quite often spoke ill
Of his wife, a woman named Jill,
A long suffering chick
Who’d married the hick
Before she discovered the pill.
Seymour would pretend to be ill
To stay home and tend to his still.
He thought that just fine
’Til the stuff in his stein
Turned out to be poisonous swill.
Will chicken soup cure every ill?
“It won’t, but what’s proven,” said Jill,
“If you want to feel good,
Then you certainly should
Try a roll in the hay, and you will.”
The duck many times had been ill;
Vet tried for a cure with a pill.
“Though this drug didn’t work,
The vet’s fee I won’t shirk.
So put it,” duck said, “On my bill.”
As you age you may feel rather ill,
But your life needn’t lack for a thrill.
Here’s a message that’s true:
Just remember that you
Pick up speed when you’re going down hill.
A woman was feeling quite ill,
said her voice had developed a trill.
the birds in the region
flocked like a legion
and perched on her second floor sill
a man was feeling quite ill
so he found in the cab a pill
washed it down his gullet
and stood up like a bullet
and 5 hours later called the doc, “whats the deal?”
ha, totally botched the form but…
There once was a man who spoke ill
Of those viewed from his dank window sill,
Everybody’s so asinine
He groaned as he passed the time–
Yet he stared out deep into night’s chill.
Hey Madeleine! hope all is well. k.
A woman was feeling quite ill
you see she had taken a chill
she through down the bourbon
and twirled in her turban
and said: its better than a pill
Hi Madeleine!
A cannibal felt rather ill
Right after having eaten his fill
Two Yanks that had gout
And one sour Kraut
Left him needing a small purple pill.
Foods vineg’ry made hubbie ill.
At McD’s in Detroit, at the till
I got in a pickle –
English language – so fickle!
On instructing the staff, “Hold the dill !”
Tis a good wind which blows one no ill
That will swirl ‘neath girls’ dresses and thrill
Passing gents with a peek
At the regions they seek,
Raising hopes which they long to fulfill.
When politics make me feel ill
And I long for a license to kill
I would like to suggest
Pointed limericks are best.
They can skewer the pompous with skill.
A movie buff takes it quite ill
When he can’t get his little blue pill.
When he can, for his wife
It’s a Wonderful Life.
But without it, it’s more The Big Chill.
Jack is resting but currently ill,
The result of a terrible spill.
But given some plumbing,
He and Jill can be cumming,
With no need to remount that hill.
A girl who was often quite ill
Wore a bra with a pretty lace frill
It attracted the guys
who widened their eyes
But her Mum said “Now don’t catch a chill”.
In pubs you will not fare so ill
Your tum with a ploughman’s to fill
Branston’s pickle will please
With the bread and the cheese,
All garnished with two sprigs of dill.
A man did pretend to be ill
As he climbed out of his windowsill
The birds gave a fright
Causing him to take flight
Balancing took too much skill
That vicar who feeling so ill
Raised funds for his carpentry bill
Said “we’ve repaired the leak
So the choir don’t shriek
Their voices were terribly shrill”
Some bacterias might make you ill,
but your doctor can give you a pill.
A bit of Augmentin
will soon put a dent in
the nausea and headache and chill.
A fellow was thought to be ill.
after tilting at someone’s windmill.
Lest you think, at first glance,
this is all song and dance,
I suggest you consult your Playbill.
A woman was feeling quite ill
as her dentist commenced with his drill.
“Don’t worry,” he ‘splained,
“I’ve been thoroughly trained
to drill, fill and give you a bill.”
My birthday’s tomorrow — I’m ill.
Fifty-one’s clearly over the hill.
Charm, charisma and wit
Got me this far but, shit,
They just can’t put that stuff in a pill.
North Koreans once had Kim Jong-il
Rule their land with his powerful will
Now it falls to his son
Who is called Kim Jong-un
His father’s large flip-flops to fill.
An Iowa town’s folk thought ill
Of an instrument salesman with skill
Who sang of trombones
While he wooed Shirley Jones
(In the movie) – he’s Prof. Harold Hill.
A debutante feeling quite ill
after dancing too fast a quadrille
collapsed very soon
(gently lit by the moon)
in a swoon fit for C.B. DeMille.
When rendering I Fear No Ill
The choir no longer sound shrill
But forte, not piano
In true, clear soprano
And that’s just the men! What a thrill …
A lad who was feeling quite ill
With a sickness for which there’s no pill
Would go convalesce
On the shores of Loch Ness
Where the monster lives just down the hill.
“A wind that blows no good is ill”
Is a truth that is accurate still.
It belongs to the lore
Of the stock trading floor
And the back rooms of Capitol Hill.
An investor became very ill
At the yield on his 17 mill’.
“There’s no interest,” he said,
“Thanks to Ben & the Fed,
On my T-Note or Treasury bill.”
A drinker became very ill
From the volume of vodka he’d swill:
“Though I can’t hold my booze,”
He said, “I will use
As much as Grey Goose can distill.”
A woman was suddenly ill
When she glanced at the theater’s playbill,
And found it quite odd,
She’d reserved Sweeney Todd,
But the Barber was now in Seville.
A woman was frequently ill
While expecting her second son Will.
Though nausea distressed her,
The second trimester
Was luck’ly more run-of-of-the-mill.
Two variations on a theme
I. Naughty
Sweet Phyllis’s guy wasn’t ill
Though his interest in food had been nil.
He rolled over and said,
“With this session in bed,
It seems that I’ve eaten my Phyl.”
II. Not naughty
Phillip’s wife was a zombie, not ill,
So her interest in most food was nil.
And the reason is plain:
She dines only on brain.
To that end, she just ate her Phil.
Bachman’s quitting — seems making us ill
Brings more cash when she’s not on the hill.
But to keep things in-house,
Her closeted spouse
Will be looking for Bills he can quill.
A herbivore made herself ill
By eating some nuts from Brazil.
She would have done well
To take off each shell
But lacked both the strength and the skill.
I wrote this limerick in tribute to Will T. Laughlin, whose many limericks over the past few weeks have entertained me greatly. I’ve been waiting for him to post one this week, so I could post this in response; however, it doesn’t look like he’s going to, and the tribute limerick works this week only–since this rhyme will never come again!
These limericks are making me ill;
For a good rhyming brain I could kill.
I just don’t have enough
To keep up with the stuff
Of the master named T. Laughlin, Will.
A woman was feeling quite ill
So she sat for a bit on the sill.
But her balance was off
So of course she fell off.
Tomorrow they’re reading her will.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun week of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick of the Week 116.
Congratulations to the Limerick of the Week Winner, the Facebook Friends’ Choice Award Winner, and the Honorable Mention Winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick Suit.