Limericks By The Pound (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 had spent her last pound…*
or
A fellow went down to the pound…*
or
A woman bought less than a pound…*
or
A fellow was trying to pound…*
or
A professor would often expound…*
*(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:
Limericks By The Pound
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A fellow went down to the pound
With plans to adopt a cute hound.
His spouse said, “Think small,”
But he brought home a tall
St. Bernard. Now his wife’s outward bound.
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: Animal Verse, Competition Limerick, Dog Humor, Dog Pounds, Dog Verse, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Pet Poems, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
A woman had spent her last pound
To buy an enlarging compound.
The guys were impressed
With the size of her breasts
But found them disturbingly round.
A professor would often expound
A theory, long proven unsound.
He thought a man oughta
Swim well underwater
But sadly, in trying, he drowned.
“Now Mates, that there’s something I’d pound,
Even better if first she was bound!”
But my pals all just snickered,
As my confidence flickered,
With almost no hope to gain ground.
A fellow was off to the pound,
In search of his runaway hound.
When he yelled “Rover Stay!”
His mutt ran away,
He was hoping his loss was now found.
Thank goodness we stuck with the pound
Some of Europe has near run aground
By adopting the euro
But from Thurso to Truro
The Queen’s head is on currency found
[Although for accuracy’s sake, I should say that although Bank of England currency is valid north of the Border, Scotland has its own banknotes issued by their own banks, with no monarch on.]
Cheese is still sold by the pound
Beer and milk — in pints they are downed
But the EU got their talons
In petrol by gallons
It gives me depression — profound!
A grocer served less than a pound
Of strawberries, fresh from the ground
Short weight by an ounce?
Trading Standards may pounce!
For such selling practice unsound
A professor would often expound
“Island nation? The plus points abound:
For rabies – no carrier
For defence – there’s a barrier:
Not landlocked – there’s sea all around.”
My nephew weighed less than one pound
They tended him, white masked and gowned,
In small incubator
Now, many years later
His tum’s almost three feet around
A fellow rushed down to the pound
To pick up his lost basset hound
Ears flapping in glee
Licking each face he could see
(That’s just the man, waiting around)
A cop who would hard pavement pound,
A pimp with his hot whore found,
He threatened arrest,
Till she gave her best,
And real happy beat-pounder found.
A woman had spent her last pound
Then found another on the ground
She stuck it in a slot
Won a whole lot
Now she is rather round
A fellow went down to the pound
To snare a fair hunting hound
He came away with a mutt
Who would fill his huge gut
And settle on a bed to lay around.
A fellow was trying to pound
A steel stake for his hound in the ground.
No hunter this dog
Who eats like a hog
Then chases fair females around.
A woman bought less than a pound
Of ingredients to make a cake round
When she added the rum
She started to hum
Who needs cake with a liquor renowned.
A professor would often expound
’bout a dog he found at the pound
His firm exclamation
Told of a Dalmatian
Whose playing around made the prof come unwound.
A fellow enjoyed Ezra Pound
Whose work he considered profound
One problem, though teeny,
He liked Mussolini,
And may not be mentally sound….
The butcher sold flesh by the pound,
He offered both sliced and fine ground.
A wife had her say,
Her hubby must pay,
This steep price for sleeping around.
A professor would often expound
How the Earth was flat and not really round.
Every one would start to laugh
Even the staff
And wondered how long he’s gonna be around
If baloney is sold by the pound,
Then the costliest radio sound
Is political patter
Where facts never matter
And untruths and falsehoods abound.
A woman bought eggs by the pound
For her fluffy souffle world-renowned.
Then ten big noisy taps
Caused a souffle collapse;
Now her husband can nowhere be found.
A woman too likely to pound
On her suitors (if aught came around),
Was soon tamed by a mench
Who proclaimed her “Fair Wench,”
And quite liked that Sweet Kate always frowned.
A professor would often expound
On what greatness around us abounds!
In a cruel, hostile world,
With corruption unfurled,
Enjoy nature and arts that astound!
A fellow went down to the pound
To pick up a trustworthy hound
He needed a bloke
Since his wife left him broke
Till another romance could be found
The TV preacher would expound
With vehemence so he’d dumbfound,
With rantings hideous,
The dumb and piteous.
Telling them they are all hell bound.
Telling her if she lost a pound
She’d look better when ungowned
Was Bernie’s error.
Made his wife a terror,
Unleashing her inner hellhound.
A woman lost less than a pound
So went to the pond where she drowned
All of her sorrows
And her tomorrows
When swimming, a poison snake found.
A guitarist just started to pound
out chords cuz he loved the sound
he cranked up the amp
but started to cramp
the feedback killed dogs in the pound
An actor with muy extra pound
could not get a role, so he found
because of his error
that left him barer
the theatre not nude but in round
Two lovers wouldst furiously pound
it out without making a sound
she said he should diet
he thought she said quiet
no eating nor bleating were found
Peaches, he sold by the pound
No better a fruit could be found
freestone or cling
he always would bring
the freshest ones sold all around
My headache would throb, it would pound –
worsening at any sound.
The words were obscene,
the tone was just mean…
my evil was Biblically sound!
A fellow who loved Ezra Pound,
In his dotage would often expound:
“‘I grow old, I grow old,
I shall wear my pants rolled…’
Or perhaps not at all, if I’m gowned.”
I went out and bought me a pound
of hamburger recently ground
I cranked up the grill
and cooked them until
no color in juices were found
A fellow tried vainly to pound,
A square peg in a hole that was round,
His wife said “It’s quaint,
That you use such restraint,
Still, I doubt that you’re mentally sound.”
A fellow who laid down a pound
for a beer in a pub that he downed,
said, “I know what you’re thinking,
but I’ll keep from sinking,
while my sorrows are properly drowned.”
A woman who lost just a pound
looked down at her scale and then frowned.
So she quit diet planning
and instead took up tanning –
she’s still fat, but she’s evenly browned.
Slight grammatical change:
A fellow who laid down a pound
in a pub for a beer that he downed,
said, “I know what you’re thinking,
but I’ll keep from sinking,
while my sorrows are properly drowned.”
The Spooky Guy went down to the pound
To pick himself up a nice hound
The beast was pure-bred in Hell
It gave off a sulphury smell
Making it damned unpleasant to have ’round
A fellow was trying to pound,
on his pillow with nary a sound.
Despite all his labors,
he woke up the neighbors,
soon after the missus went down.
A professor would often expound
That she would take more than just a pound
Of lazy collegiate student flesh
And feed it to the Monster of Loch Ness
Pay attention! With her there was no foolin’ around!
(c) JP/davh
A Professor would always expound
On the shards found at diggings underground
But the Daddy of em all
Was that story so tall
That at Piltdown the “missing link” was found.
A fellow went down to the pound
and brought home a vigilant hound.
But the pooch likes to bark
from dawn until dark –
as a watchdog, he’s too tightly wound.
A bar patron wanted to pound
A lady who’d bought him a round.
To his pitch she was warm
But he couldn’t perform
‘Cause of all of the bourbon he’d downed.
It’s twenty-one shillings–a pound
At least I think that is sound.
Oh wait, I meant guinea
I am such a ninny
And the former on my old playground.
Johanna, you shouldn’t expound
On concepts too deep and profound.
When you dredge up E. Conti
You’ll get the Full Monty
And you don’t want to see him ungowned.
A fellow went down to the pound
After many a pint had been downed
“Put me with the dogs, please
I would rather face fleas
than my wife, ’cause my head will be crowned.”
A woman who spent her last pound
bought a plaything to tickle her mound
When the batteries failed
“La Dee Da,” she exhaled
“For the milkman will soon be around.”
a fellow went down to the pound
to find him a pup rather round
but all were skinny
he did not like mini
so figured he’d find one around
A professor would often expound
on the size and the height of the mound,
the dirt that they use,
the cleats on their shoes,
and the shape of the ball – round.
Stay away from light sockets, Dad pounded
In my head. His advice was well founded.
Stuck my finger in one.
“I must punish you, Son,”
Said my dad, “because now you are grounded.”
The teenager’s car was impounded.
The charge? DUI, which astounded
His dad, electrician,
Intent on contrition,
Announced that his offspring was grounded.
Obese senators often expound
While in session; the halls will resound
Many hours with bluster
For a filibuster.
They’re just throwing their wait around.
Golfer used just one club and did pound
(Throughout all 18 holes, quite profound)
A ball with his putter.
To friends he would mutter
That he simply was playing a round.
Politicians will often expound
During speeches with words that are bound
To get heated. No shock,
‘Cause whenever they talk
They are full of hot air, I have found.
If you need to put on a few pounds,
Then just do as I say, though it sounds
Rather crazy, it’s true.
Just jog backwards and you
Will gain weight. This technique sure astounds.
My professor would often expound
On deep thoughts as he roamed far around.
He declaimed as he moved,
But digressed and he proved
You can get a prof lost who’s profound.
A pavement is what you must pound
If a job is to ever be found.
And they’re so easy to find
There are shoes to be shined
Potatoes to pull from the ground.
A moral we feel we must pound–
The tale of Prometheus Bound.
One gets all a-quiver
When we think of his liver
The ultra–and ultimate–sound.
When Santa had started to pound
Out toys for next Christmas, he found,
While he loved flying high
With his deer through the sky,
That his life was a grind on the ground.
Weekend sailor would often expound
On the great bargain boat he had found.
He found it so dear
Tied there by his pier.
‘Twas his wife, though, he found outward bound.
A fellow went down to the pound
and found what he thought would be hound.
It was tiny and cute,
Not a thing that he’d shoot,
‘Til the fox dug a den in his ground.
Karen on drums she would pound
an integral part of their sound
when she got to the part
where he’s breaking her heart
the singing was deep and profound
The lim’rick this week’s word is “pound”
Mentions of Ezra abound
Can’t wait for the trick
when “orange” she pick
to see us all cry on the ground!
on my keyboard i’m starting to pound
this week’s limerick is not to be found
i’m coiled so tightly
i can’t even write. see?
that’s my key right there on the ground.
A fellow went down to the pound
Hoping his wife’s love would abound
For a pup in bow
So much he could go
Somewhere where he could not be found.
(P.S. The reason I haven’t participated for a while is described beautifully above by Dan Geier. I’ve popped in several times but just couldn’t crank out a limerick!)
I was wondering, when you expound
An idea you are kicking around,
Do you “expound UPON” it,
Or “expound”? Doggone it,
I’ll wait till E. Conti is found.
For eternity, Ed, I could pound
My head on the wall ’fore I found
A rhyme that would beat
“Full Monty,” a feat
So outstanding, your head should be crowned.
Give your bed frame a rest – – do not pound.
If you want those old bed springs to sound,
Grab that headboard (no beating),
Hold on (it’s not cheating) —
Now channel that thrust to the mound.
I’ve never much liked the word “pound.”
For women, it’s weight is profound.
Would it kill folks to say,
“There’s more of you — yay!”?
Those are words with a much nicer sound.
When comparing my dates pound for pound,
Those fellows who worship the sound
Of their own voices go.
Out on top? Guys who know
Women’s words should be heard and not drowned.
Upon hearing the name, Ezra Pound,
Surely many an inward eye’s bound
To see hordes of wet leaves
Atop collars and sleeves,
A fresh image for which he’s renowned.
Scott walker has promised to pound
Women’s right to choose into the ground.
Thought you still had free will?
Meet Wisconsin’s new bill:
Castigation through forced ultrasound.
In my sleep all night: pound, pound, pound, pound…
Every dream had a strange retro sound.
It was Richard — I knew
When “Can’t Smile Without You”
Was lip-synched by an old Afghan Hound.
A woman once paid by the pound
Of flesh, for she was so bound
Payment was tough
She gave with a huff
For her waist was still bulging and round
A woman who’d spent her last pound
Said “it goes that is why it’s made round”
I said to her “Honey
You must watch your money
There are very few good men around”.
All week we’ve been lim’ricking “pound”
the twists and the turns we expound
And Ezra of Prevention
for an Honorable Mention
Where’s Roger’s? Confound!
Said Shylock: “You’ve promised a pound
Of your flesh, and you’re solemnly bound.
If I have to foreclose,
I’ll cut off your nose,
Which suffices, I’ve gen’rally found.”
When Britannia ruled, and the pound
Was known to be solid and sound,
They would often speak ill
Of the five-dollar bill
And Lincoln, upon whom they frowned.
The sun never set on the pound
When Edward VII was crowned.
Back then it could serve
As the global reserve,
Wherevah the empire was found.
The penis is barely a pound,
And typic’ly just hangs around,
But with help from tumescence
It gives of one’s essence,
A process for which it’s renowned.
When trying to define a pound
the jokes we employ are soon found
If you get them to say
“Uh, what’s a dickway?”
the target knows he has been clowned
Dudley Do-Right whose jaw weighs a pound
Rides his pony the wrong way around
In each plot that’s embroiled
Snidely Whiplash is foiled
And poor Nell on the train track gets found
In a penny’s worth, in for a pound
Is a saying that’s meant to confound
Light years don’t measure time
Someone’s dropping a dime
And a speaker’s for musical sound?
They gave the poor headboard a pound
And the mattress collapsed to the ground
Though they practiced safe sex
On the porch and the decks
In the bathtub they both nearly drowned
The Mark, Yen or Buck, and the Pound
Make a clinkety-clankety sound
Joel Grey and Minnelli
On film and the telly
Can still make the world go around
Pick a penny and squander a pound
In a puddle a fool can be drowned
Platitude’s make me flinch
They get used in a pinch
But for bawdy lims we’re more renowned
A potato weighs all of a pound
When it’s harvested out of the ground
Made of starch and some ash
And before it, you mash
It’s three quarter parts water they’ve found
But this spud will weigh less than a pound
If dehydrated into a mound
That’s half water, half powder
When using for chowder
Or fritters is usu’lly frowned
So now, how many parts of a pound
(And the answer will likely astound)
Does the dried up spud weigh?
If it’s too soon to say,
Is your crossword puz pencil around?
On his laptop his head he would pound
As he tried to write something profound
While the words that were wrote
By the keyboard he smote
Made no sense, stlil the meter was sound
I wish she would put on a pound
Some parts of her ought to be round
But she’s built like a rake
And I’m scared she would break
If out with her I’d make, so I’m browned
Thanks so much everyone for another fun week of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Congratulations to the Limerick of the Week Winner, the Facebook Friends’ Choice Award Winner, and the Honorable Mention Winners: Limerick of the Week 119
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Finding Limericks