Limerick Beau (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 11:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A woman broke up with her beau…*
or
A fellow who’d once been the beau…*
or
A gal tied her hair in a bow…*
or
A musician was buying a bow…*
*(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 Beau
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A singer broke up with her beau
After learning he’d done something low:
He’d poked fun at her pitch,
Which compelled her to ditch
Him for somebody less in the know.
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, Dating Humor, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Music Humor & Verse, Poetry & Prompts, Relationship Humor, Singing Humor, Writing Prompts
A good limerick — a beauty, a beau —
Relies upon this, don’t you know:
Two lines that rhyme, first,
Then two more, in a burst,
And the last wraps it up with a bow.
A musician who was buying a bow
Said oh dear I really don’t know
I’m sorry to dither
But I’m all of a quiver
The don’t seem to go with my arrow
If I lived in Paramaribo
I’d have no idea where to go
It’s not like I wanna
Be in Dutch Guiana –
The Suriname name from befoe’
If I lived in Paramaribo
I’d have no idea where to go
It’s not like I wanna
Be in Dutch Guiana –
The Suriname name from befoe’
William Tell was re-stringing his bow;
He had missed the damned apple, and so
He now aimed for the head,
Shot his little son dead,
And won gold at the archery show.
His loose shoelace I tied in a bow.
Passers-by raised their brows in a show
Of contempt for this wife—
Slave to hubby her life!
But with slipped disc, he couldn’t bend low!
A woman broke up with her beau
Her soul quavered to mete out such woe!
But his passion was fake
His heart did not break
He suffered not one single throe …
I undid the ribbon and bow
Of the chess program gift from my bro.
By computer outclassed
I was checkmated fast!
But I won the next match—taekwondo.
Wearing only a lavender bow,
The hooker, just learning to blow,
Couldn’t find his erection.
He gave the direction:
“Go Southward, and not Westward, Ho!”
“Oh, Lenore!” cried her heartbroken beau,
“Shall I see you again?” Poor old Poe
Heard a tap at the door,
And a voice: “Nevermore!”
Thus the raven continued to crow.
The cellist was waving her bow,
But the music was failing to flow.
Why this absence of sound?
Eureka! She found
There were no strings attached down below.
The Marquis tied bow after bow
Securing the girl head to toe
On the four-poster bed,
But she broke free and said
“A nice try, but the answer’s still no.”
His tie was a polka-dot bow
That emitted a sinister glow.
He would sadly explain,
“I am from the Ukraine –
It’s my Chernobyl tie, don’t you know.”
A woman broke up with her beau
How low to go he didn’t know
He’d too many doubts
On the ins and the outs
So making her come was no go.
A belle from the parish of Bow
Was in love with a baker called Joe.
But a belle from Shoreditch,
Such an envious bitch,
Told him: “All that she wants is your dough.”
A gal tied her hair in a bow
That would hurt making love to a beau
One said “It’s annoying”
When my toy I’m deploying.”
“It’s better down there when you mow”
A gal tied her hair in a bow
That covered her bod head to toe.
It was really quite pleasing
Except when she’s sneezing
It reveals hers charms down below.
A fellow who’d once been the beau
Of a princess was told to go blow.
He went into a funk
Till his head he would dunk
In a barrel of Remy Cointreau.
Said the whale to her lusty young beau:
“With me, you will reap as you sow;
If you tickle the spot
That makes lady-whales hot,
Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll blow.”
A woman broke up with her beau:
“I’m not well.” He replied, “Maybe so,
“In your time of the menses,
“Discomfort? Just senses,”
“For now let’s just go with the flow…”
A woman broke up with her beau-
She saw he was weak and callow.
“I want a worldly guy,
On whom I can rely
And for loving,I want a pro.
A woman broke up with her beau
A heartthrob on the piano,
But with young female fans
He was good with his hands.
He had played her fortissimo.
A woman broke up with her beau,
A chef in a fine bordello
She saw his cock expand
He was drinking wine and
Eating more than the escargot.
A woman broke up with her beau,
Who loved good wine and escargot.
But to all that said ciao-
He read a health book and now
He eats greens and garabanzo.
A woman broke up with her beau,
Who loved good wine and escargot.
But to all that said ciao-
He read a health book and now
He eats greens and cooked garbanzo.
The conductor was taking a bow
When it seemed that he farted, and how!
The second trombone
Had unwittingly blown
A bum note. He is unemployed now.
A cellist is hoping to bow
His gal several times in a row,
But he has to maintain
A pace to sustain
Her O’s, as he strokes nice and slow.
A woman broke up with her beau;
He would never fight with a foe,
This dapper Beau Brummel
Did not want to pummel.
His fine clothes stayed clean, head to toe.
The hunter pulled back on his bow
With sights fixed on bagging a doe
His aim had bad luck
Thus nicking a buck
Who knew where those antlers could go
The Eskimo took on a beau
She met on an Arctic ice floe
He pulled out his small dink
Said cold air made it shrink
Discovered he lies down below
Mary said she’d make him her beau
Tho there’s something he ought to know
It would cost him a pound
To cry out like a hound
A small price for this quid pro quo
A woman was dumped by her beau,
A real happy-go-lucky type joe.
He was not at all staid,
And was easily swayed.
So she knew he would go with that Flo.
A gal tied her hair in a bow
With ribbon, determined to show
The bow to the cuter
Of two who pursued her,
Thus hoisting her skirt up like so!!
The fiddler fell and broke his bow
While going on stage for a show
So, he picked his fiddle like a mando,
Ending with a great crescendo
The crowd went wild and tossed him their dough.
Sweet Tempered Dow
A mistress who tripped on her beau
Said:”you nit can’t you see where I go?
” If you go when I come
I won’t fall on my bum!”
And she dragged him downstairs to make dough.
App Yours Mister
A belle, no more bent on her beau
Really sick of him dangling in tow
Just downloaded an app
That would tell him to flapp
And get lost! Meaning – Yes! Time to go!
A woman broke up with her beau:
He was all “Giddyup!” She was “Whoa!
I don’t care for the speed
With which you do the deed.
If you come like that, you’ve gotta go.”
The neophyte thought a new bow
Would make her a virtuoso.
Her tunes had no time,
No rosin or rhyme;
The less polite might say they blow.
A woman broke up with her beau
Who had lost his get up and go
She got up and went
With a livelier gent
Who gave her a rosier glow
I once knew a Sergeant LeBeau,
An extremely gung-ho NCO.
But when he lost an arm,
He went back to the farm.
Now he orders his ducks in a row.
A woman broke up with her beau…
There was a fierce and heated do
What was there to show?
No one seemed to know
Flared up and out the door she flew
Hank
A woman got dumped by her beau.
“But… why?” she demanded to know.
“To be honest,” he said,
“You’ve no talent for head.”
(Now they’ve BOTH had a terrible blow.)
A woman broke up with her beau
Who’d dealt her the cruelest of blows
He’d confessed to a fling
But the most shocking thing?
His ‘mistress’ was a guy called Joe
A woman broke up with her beau
Whose assets were woefully low.
She waved him goodbye
For a far sweeter guy;
Sugar daddy with truck-loads more dough.
A fellow who’d once been a beau,
Beau Brummel, if you have to know,
His only real passion
Devoted to fashion.
He said, “One must go with the flow.”
Said the Smilodon queen to her beau,
“This Neanderthal’s tasty.” “Oh, no,”
Said her feline companion;
“It’s fine Filet Magnon!”
“My bad,” said the first. “I’ll eat Cro-.”
A musician was buying a bow
For which instrument he didn’t know.
“If I’m feeling mellow
It might be a cello
But fiddling’s my failing. Let’s go!”
Origami purveyors won’t bow
To demands that they change; won’t kowtow.
In the office of theirs,
They were caught unawares,
And refused to go paperless now.
A young girl always said to her beaux,
“That’s the best I e’er had, Dick… although,
To make sure, I’ll ask Dad.
But that man, he gets mad—
Clipped my past beaux, that old so-and-so.”
A limerick homage to the movie “Se7en.”
(Bet there aren’t too many of those.)
Warning! Spoilers!
“What’s in the Box?”
The package, all tied with a bow,
Was sent by the psycho John Doe.
Now with six people dead
It all came to a head:
‘Twas the noggin of Gwyneth Paltrow.
A bald guy had once been a beau;
From his gal, though, he got the heave-ho.
They had had quite a scene
When he grew his hair green
By shampooing with Miracle-Gro.
Ah, “bow”. Is it “bough”? Is it “beau”?
There really is no way to know
‘Til you use it. And that
Is like Schroedinger’s Cat —
With less animal cruelty, though.
(Off topic, but related:
“What Else Is In The Box?”
I asked Dr. S what he’s doing.
“The cat in this box, before viewing,
Is both living and dead!”
Dr. Schroedinger said…
But at that point, the box started mewing.)
A musician was buying a bow
In a big old box store, don’t you know.
The clerk was a jerk,
And asked with a smirk,
“And how many arrows to go?”
A fellow was gladly the beau
Of a girl who was quite in the kneau.
When he askied how she knew,
She explsined “What I dew
I learned from my years as a preau.”
A girl was perplexed by her beau.
As time passed, she observed “Now you know
If you want us to last.
You don’t need to fuck fast,
But six days sure is God-awful slow.”
A woman was shocked that her beau
Had secretive sex with men. “Know
I am quite surprised and
I just don’t understand.
I’d like the lowdown on down low.”
A young seamstress complained to her beau
That her unseamly boss let her go.
She put up a big fight;
Didn’t think it was right.
But it was, at least seamingly sew.
The gal’s boss said her work was sew-sew;
Kept the workers in stitches? A frayed sew.
Held her job by a thread
Till her firing. ‘Twas said
It was quite a clothes call, even sew.
Lenore broke the heart of her beau
“She will come nevermore” quoth the crow
So to hear the man sob
Is both sad and macabre
Not surprisingly though, apropos
A gal tied her hair in a bow
And went to meet up with a foe
To not come to harm
She took not her arm
But thinking to strike a low blow
While walking she spied an old crow
And began to muse about Poe
His brooding, dark thought
She mused on her lot
Shought her meeting end up in woe
But should she win, where would she stow
The evidence locked down below
Nefarious acts
And reveAling facts
She had to approach this thing slow
Arriving, the gal missed the foe
Where he got to, nobody know
She audited facts
Of nefarious acts
Victory gained without need of a blow
Round his member he fastened a bow,
Then he buffed it to “make that shit glow”
At least HE got a rise
From June’s birthday surprise
Before June told him where he could go.
Mercutio warned: a man’s bow,
When it’s blinded by love, may aim low.
Medlar-me* thinks behind
Shakespeare’s joke (once well mined)
Is a pop-’er-in pear in the know.
*”If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
Now will he sit under a medlar tree
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.—
O Romeo, that she were! Oh, that she were
An open arse, and thou a poperin pear.”
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 165.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick Must.