Undone Limerick — 3rd Anniversary Edition (Limerick-Off Monday)
A few minutes ago, I announced the 156th Limerick of the Week. And that means it’s anniversary time at Mad Kane’s Limerick-Offs.
The Limerick of the Week Awards started as an experiment three years ago in March 2011. Of course, I had been informally posting limerick prompts for years before that. But it was on March 13, 2011 that I decided to get organized and start picking weekly winners. Here’s what I wrote.
But I’m trying something a bit different this time: One of your limericks will be anointed Limerick Of The Week.
As you can see, my experiment took. So congratulations to all of you and thanks so much for helping to make this limerick competition such a success.
In light of our 3rd Limerick of the Week Anniversary, I’m offering you an alternative: In addition to your regular challenge, you may write a limerick related to SPRING, using any first line. Next week I’ll present an extra award — one for the best spring-related limerick.
And now, getting back to the business at hand, 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 11:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A woman was feeling undone…*
or
A fellow announced, “We are done…”*
or
A creditor threatened to dun…*
*(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:
Undone Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A would-be inventor’s undone
When told to go back to square one;
His whole concept shot down
By each bank with a frown—
No bucks for his edible gun!
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: Bank Humor, Competition Limerick, Gun Humor, Inventors, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Loans & Borrowing, Money & Finance Humor, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
A woman felt so completely undone
after begging a backrub from her hon.
Released from their hive
her boobs took a dive
and the floorplay added more to her fun.
Mae West left some buttons undone
And told an admirer “Well, hon,
From the way that you dress,
Pleased to see me, I guess –
Or are you just wearing a gun?”
Will this limerick ever be done?
I am scratching my head for a pun
About Citizen Kane …
Nothing comes to my brain –
Mad can finish what I have Begun.
The poetical works of John Donne
Ain’t exactly a barrel of fun,
But they’re not as unsound
As the poems of Pound,
That fascistic old son of a gun.
The Creator announced: “It is done!
Six days on the go! Now it’s Sun-
day, and I need a break
With some coffee and cake,
Or maybe a SinnerMan bun.”
A woman was feeling undone
When her beau said “you’re no longer fun.
We’re not in grade school
Let’s strip in the pool
And make love ‘neath the midnight sun.
.
A woman was feeling undone
When she stripped in the pool to have fun.
There was a cold breeze
So she stated to sneeze
Saying “make it a really fast one.”
A fellow announced “we are done”
“Playing games in the hay isn’t fun.
No need to be wed
Let’s jump into bed
But I’ll read you no poem by John Donne.”
My guests found the meat underdone,
But I like bloody juices to run
As I chop up my foe;
That’s a thing you should know
When you dine with Attila the Hun.
3D Misshap
A gunsmith announced I am done
When the printer stopped printing his gun
His sun stood there laughing
For all his dad’s grafting
It produced just a chocolate chip pun.
A sequel to Madelaine’s version
A fellow cried, “What have I done!
“I’ve been having sex with a nun!
“Yes, I got in the habit —
“Oh my God, oh dagnabbit!
“My sin’s been confessed as a pun!”
The best limericks end with a pun.
Ask Chris Doyle, and he’ll tell how it’s done.
When he rhymes “orgiastic”
With Credit Card “plastic,”
His “vinyl reward” will just stun.
I heard you cry “What have I done?”
And I noticed a nun on the run
As she tore home in fright
Black white and black white
Like a skunk at the end of a gun
Bawlmore gals just call everyone “hon.”
Love their Orioles, Ravens and fun,
Natty Bo and steamed crabs,
Scrubbing steps’ marble slabs;
And they point out where Poe was undone.
The love poetry of John Donne
Is in my mind, second to none.
”Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove”
Indeed, with this, my heart is won.
A woman was feeling undone
by her husband Attila the Hun;
she had tired of his antics,
his puerile pugilistics,
said “Til, I’m no longer your Hon!”
A fellow announced “We are done!”,
when completing a task, work or fun;
he spoke in the plural,
didn’t go over rural,
spent a lot of his time on the run!
A creditor threatened to dun,
his wife who had refused him none;
he was so in the habit,
found he couldn’t rehab it,
he now did collecting for fun!
California’s perpetual spring,
no seasons, but lacking not zing;
these years though, more summer,
hot and dry, what a bummer,
still an Eden, I stay till I’m sprung.
June, spoon, swoon, love, dove, fling, ring, spring,
words oft used when of romance we sing;
but I’m feeling a grouch,
spring has sprung through my couch,
new romance brings wring’s sting to my swing.
Birds atweet, leaves new-sweet, ah tis spring,
old nature’s fine time of rebirthing;
but her watch must be fusty,
its December, and must we,
skip winter, her time for snug berthing??
A woman was coming Undun,
It’s too late, she’d lost the sun,
Along for the ride,
On the B side,
And never rose past twenty-one.
She protested “My fish isn’t done,
And I’m cold at this table for one.”
Removing her flounder,
The waiter soon found her
An excellent plaice in the sun.
Please don’t tell me my outfit is “dun” –
Such a dreary old colour, no fun.
I’d prefer you to say
It’s a sweet brownish-grey
With some beige where the colours have run.
A fellow announced, “We are done!”
To this woman he knew he should shun.
Though she had this mad habit
To screw like a rabbit,
This somehow felt wrong with a nun.
Said Macbeth, “If ‘twere done ‘tis done,
And of consequences there were none;
If my wife weren’t a nagger,
And this a real dagger,
Then murdering kings might be fun.”
A woman was feeling undone
The news that he gave was a stun:
He had never loved her,
That he couldn’t alter.
She had thought their hearts beat as one.
Concerning Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
John Betjeman thought her the one.
His defeat in straight sets
Left no lasting regrets
With their time of betrothal begun.
(Out-of-competition: rhyme word last)
The spider had barely begun
With his lunch, when the knots he had spun
Came loose, and his prey
Got completely away…
Cried the spider, “My fly is undone!”
(Out-of-competition: rhyme word last. Also, stupid.)
John Donne is a man on the run:
His creditors, rising as one,
Went off to the cops.
To make sure that he stops,
A Dragnet’s been done to dun Donne….
(…)
…… Done to dun, Donne, DUNNNN!
(Out-of-competition: seasonal, but not springy)
Saint Patrick, pre-canonization,
‘Ere he drove all the snakes from the nation,
Had to bring ’em there first
(With some help from the thirst
Of the Irish for potent libation).
Oh those crazy Hibernians! Fond as
They are of strong drink, anacondas
Soon danced in their eyes,
And great lizards the size
Of those monsters of Ishiro Honda’s.
Having passed off two miracles, Patrick
(Deciding to go for the hat-trick)
Made the snakes reappear
As evangelists here…
Though he never took credit for THAT trick.
Sister Mary, ‘ere Matins were done,
Brought Sister Theresa her gun.
For though Sisters don’t duel
As a general rule,
Sister Mary is second to nun.
“My web” said the spider “is done;
It could hardly be more finely spun
All it needs by-and-by
Is a succulent fly,
And the lunch will be ready for one.”
(Yeah, on old chestnut …)
“Waiter! Something will have to be done!
There’s a fly in -” He came at a run.
“Sir, please keep it quiet,
You don’t have to cry it,
Or everyone else will want one.”
The chef said “It’s not often done,
But a straight-sided pie can be fun,
With potatoes (the sweet
Kind), and turnips, and beet –
It’s the square pie of roots, everyone.”
My efforts to diet have done
Me no good, I’m still fat as a bun.
Why am I so obese
Though I stick to Chinese,
And never eat more than Won Ton?
This replaces the previous version – there was a missing word!
Said Macbeth, “If ‘twere done when ‘tis done,
And if consequences there were none;
If my wife weren’t a nagger,
And this a real dagger,
Then murdering kings might be fun.”
“In Springtime”, the naturalist boasted,
“There’s many a field trip I’ve hosted.
We love, as we ramble,
To see the lambs gambol,
And love them still more when they’re roasted.”
It’s Spring, and the garden is growing,
Thanks to hours of back-breaking sowing.
But when I look closer,
I’m feeling moroser –
It’s only the weeds that are showing!
Spring Song
It’s my own fault – I shouldn’t have trusted
My instincts. I slavered and lusted
For the gorgeous au pair;
Though she looked light as air,
All the springs of my sofa are busted.
When the porn star’s career was done
She found a new job, a good one.
For the work that she chose,
She had to wear clothes,
And she thought the change would be fun.
A woman was feeling undone
As she lay basking in the sun
Unhooked by her geezer
Desperate to please her,
Bikini removed and far flung!
SOME SOFT SOAP ABOUT
THE IRISH SPRING
In Ireland in Springtime, they claim
There’s a clover of wonder and fame,
So strong and so pure
That it needs no manure —
“No Shit Shamrock”, I think, is its name.
I’d hoped what the Spring sun caressed
And the soft April showers had blessed
In my window-box garden
Would grow, and would harden;
Alas — now I’m under arrest.
For the incredible Brian Allgar:
OUT, OUT DAMNED JELLY SPOT
“Oh, what,” cried Macbeth, “have I done?
Duncan’s vengeance has only begun,
For making his Donuts
Has made my wife gò nuts…
The battle is both lost and won!”
OK, THIS ONE’S JUST DUMB
All nature goes mad at the equinox,
And the animals get on their freakuinox:
Like the goose, who’s gone glam;
Or the gold lamé lamb;
Or the stretch-polyester-and-sequin ox.
“You believe that? Just calls out ’I’m done,’
And rolls off — yay, the man weighs a ton…”
Marge confided in Kate
Who that night killed her mate,
That damned two-timing son of a gun.
“These lim’ricks already cite Donne;
They’ve taken my angle and fun.”
My wife says, “Who cares?
Just add yours to theirs.
‘OverDonne’ is a workable pun.”
A poet was feeling unDonne,
As he rode toward the westerly sun:
“Lord, unstink my heart
With a heavenly fart”–
Thus the Style Invitation begun.
A sunbather was feeling half done
‘Cause she had a bad case of sunbun.
Burned her left butt cheek;
Said, “Man, does this reek.
Guess it’s time now to toast the right one.”
“This Norwegian Blue is quite done,
Bereft of life, ‘ex-‘ (maybe ‘un-‘?).
He’s not reclining
Because of his pining
Bird’s dead. Now I need a new one.”
The shopkeeper wasn’t undone,
Conceding the customer won:
“I accept what you said;
Yes, this parrot’s quite dead—
Come back to my place for some fun?”
The lumberjack games were about done
As giant memories through her head spun
She let out a sigh
And said, “What a guy!
No one rolls logs like that big guy, Bunyan!”
Alas, Winter will soon be undone;
Up north snow will melt, water will run.
I’m no anti-snow whiner;
Hell, I think it’s diviner.
I’m that one guy who gets sick of the sun.
A gal got a bit overdone
When she lounged in the buff in the sun.
It imparted a glow
(Please don’t ask how I know)
To the tats on each well-toasted bun.
You requested a limerick for Spring
On St. Paddy’s day it seems just the thing
After Jameson’s on the rocks
Approaching the equinox
Like an ancient bard I’ll set forth and sing
In the second “Spring” limerick I corrected the upcoming season changing event to the equinox from the solstice. Couldn’t figure out how to delete the first version ;0(
Note from Mad Kane: You can’t delete it (or revise it) yourself. I’ve deleted the first one. Thanks!
2014
It’s Spring! Let the greenery grow!
And the blossoms, in colorful show,
Explode into flowers!
Because in twelve hours
They’re going to be buried in snow.
A “sprung” limerick, begging your pardon for my latent sectarianism:
The Devil cried, “Damn! I’m undone!
I thought I’d got God’s only Son.
Alas and instead,
Look, He’s unleashed the dead.
I’m worse off now than when I’d begun.”
A man, to his missus, said “We’re done
You’re no longer my number one
I’m divorcing you
For wife number two
Ten years younger and a lot more fun”.
There once was a man from Verdun
Whose penis resembled a gun.
He’d cry, “This is a stick-up!”
To girls he would pick up
(And never succeeded with one).
‘Twas annoying; yet nobody harmed him,
‘Til a visiting lady who charmed him
(Not knowing his trick,
Or the shape of his dick)
Gave a terrible kick — and disarmed him.
Will, if I may offer a comment…
Your two limericks caused me to snigger
Though the case may not be as you figure.
His request that he bang her
May have *not* caused her anger.
It could be he’s too quick on the trigger.
It’s cold, and the skies are all gray
And the forecast says sleet’s on the way.
My spirits are sinking;
I think I’ll start drinking
And wait for when Spring starts, in May.
You may be right, Tim (@7:10). But:
One more explanation I’ll share.
She’d just had a terrible scare:
She saw a Gun-Putz
Hanging out with some nuts,
And mistook it for Wayne LaPierre.
***
(I shouldn’t offend LaPierre.
I’m certain his temper will flare…
He’ll turn purple and puce,
And he’ll shout that abuse
Of an NRA “member”‘s unfair.)
I’ve reconsidered my homage to Donne and the Invitational:
A poet, depressed and unDonne,
Rode westward and sighed at the sun:
“Lord, unstink my heart
With a heavenly fart”–
“You loser.” – “I’ve finally won!?”
A woman was feeling undone
The race had only just begun
She tripped over her laces
Broke her leg in three places
Not quite what you’d call a fun run
My Limerick-Offing ain’t done.
But sometimes I pass on the fun.
With deadlines a-looming
Anxiety’s blooming.
And I can’t even find a good pun.
The batsman said he was done
My innings of a hundred and one
Should win the match
But shame that catch
Means I won’t score the winning run
Now that spring has sprung
Every bird has a song to be sung
Not a minute to wait
Build a nest find a mate
And sing fit to burst a lung
Tomorrow it’s the Spring Equinox
We’ll soon see the changing of clocks
This cold little bunny
Fails to find it funny
Still clad in thermals and woolly socks
You can take your pick which category this goes in!
Old Man Winter (Jack Frost ) said “I’m done,
Spring has finally sprung
I won’t reappear
Till later this year
I can’t compete with the heat of the sun
When Mr. Beasley’s work was done,
He found a ho and had some fun.
But Mrs. Beasley
Said that was weasley,
And she went out a bought a gun.
A fellow announced “I am done.
“Lim’ricks cannot be writ on the run.
“I can see what I can
“But the lines? They won’t scan
“If I work in my usual pun.”
A fellow announced, “We are done.”
She said, “You’re the ignorant one.
Your passions were faked;
We’re really half baked;
You f****d up and forgot the fun!”
The fragrance of Spring fills the air!
Birds sing, and the weather is fair;
The sky’s a bright blue
Of a dazzling hue,
And I’m frankly too busy to care.
From their beds the first crocuses climb,
And the early narcissus. While I’m
All alone in the gloom
Of my dimly-lit room
As I make these “Spring” limericks rhyme.
A woman was feeling ‘undone’
Alone as a party of one
She tried pc date
To help find a mate
Her ‘inbox’ is now over run…
On a snowy day, just after noon
Our springtime was late, what a boon!
‘Cuz to balance things out
There is nary a doubt
That our summer will end way too soon
My daughter has got me undone —
She reprogrammed my keyboard for fun.
I was going berserk —
“You” became “Captain Kirk”!
As a prankster, the kid’s number one.
Here I romp with my love twixt the heather
With my kilt hiked up high in spring weather.
Neath sun-swirled highland mist
On warm moss, by dew kissed,
We’re exploring those regions called nether.
At the beach I was nearly undone
While I ogled bikinis for fun.
I was suddenly finding
That beauty was blinding —
I’d aimed my binocs at the sun.
Her bikini-top strap was undone
As she lay on her towel in the sun.
When I dribbled my drink
Where her skin tone was pink,
She jumped up and took off at a run.
Flights of Spring Fancy
The robins and jays have it made.
Hear their blissful song? I’d gladly trade
My right arm for a wing —
They’ve got *reason* to sing:
At least every Spring they get laid.
The husband announced “We are done
with the garden, so lets have some fun
at the Comedy Club.”
But now here is the rub.
THIS night they were telling bad puns.
Rewrite:
Those robins and jays have it made.
For their sweet tweets I’d blissfully trade
My right arm for a wing —
They’ve got reason to sing:
Hey, at least every Spring they get laid.
Spring has sprung. Oh, can it be true
Or will winter keep making us blue?
Though Spring’s first day has passed
Seems we’ve not seen the last
Of an icicle that’s built to screw!
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 Spring-Themed Limerick Award Winner, the Facebook Friends’ Choice Award Winner, and the Honorable Mention Winners: Limerick of the Week 157.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because the new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick Ado.
Congrats to all. I look forward every week to all the great limericks.
Congrats on your 3 year anniversary and I do like the alternative challenge theme.