A Limerick Must (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 whose hair was all mussed…*
or
The boutique smelled of mildew and must…*
or
Good grades are an absolute must…*
or
You shall do what I say. It’s a must…*
or
The winemaker showed me his must…*
*(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:
A Limerick Must
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A woman whose hair was all mussed
Appeared wind-blown — she blamed a strong gust.
But she’d slept with her ex
And was winded from sex;
Lust with gusto, whose end was a bust.
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, Sex Humor, Weather Humor, Wind Humor, Writing Prompts
“You shall do what I say. It’s a must.”
“But I can’t. It’s a matter of trust.”
“Better do what I say.”
“No, I won’t! There’s no way!”
And I rode away, kicking up dust.
The old car smells of mildew and must.
In and out it is covered with rust.
Once a shiny black Caddie,
Proudly driven by my Daddy.
Fond memories rise up through the dust.
“Good grades are an absolute must,
Lest your scholarship one day go bust”
Said a tired concerned father
To his son the carouser,
Whose grades, at exams, bit the dust.
Any fine first edition’s old must
From a volume as rare as gold dust
Maybe penned with a quill:
An olfactory thrill
To the duke of the uppermost crust.
In the high winds my hair became mussed
How I raged and I swore, for I’d just
Thanks to coiffeuse’ technique
Achieved tresses so sleek!
Balaclava’d I me in disgust.
Inga’s clothes were dishevelled and mussed;
The wife found her husband and cussed:
“I have told you before,
The au pair’s not a whore,
So you’ve not paid her this time, I trust!”
The crypt smells of mildew and must.
I stare at the coffin, nonplussed.
Though it’s Dracula’s place,
Of the Count there’s no trace,
Just a stake that’s the colour of rust.
His mother said: “Marvin, you must
Eat the crust of your sandwiches – just
Give a thought to the starvin’ …”
“I’m thinkin’ “, said Marvin,
“I’d happily send ’em the crust.”
William Shakespeare insists that we must,
Like chimney-sweeps, end up as dust.
The thought’s melancholic,
But meanwhile, let’s frolic –
Seven sins, and especially lust.
Though turkey’s considered a must
At Thanksgiving, sometimes I just
Have a nostalgic wish
For those whole roasted fish,
And I pray for “O Cod, whom we trussed.”
A woman whose hair was all mussed
No matter how much combed and fussed.
Cut/gave it a style
Which should last a while.
Unless there was a strong wind gust.
Good grades are an absolute must
At Yale- or end up in the dust!
“W”s “GENTLEMAN’S ‘C'” :
YAY! Bush family tree!
He knew that “In DAD, he could trust”.
” You shall do what I say. It’s a must.”
He said as deep inside her, he thrust.
She wanted him badly;
She’d yield to him gladly.
They were a good match in their strong lust.
Said Dubbya, “Ya do what ya must;
That war in Iraq, it was just.
If I’m lyin’, Sir, well,
May I end up in hell!”
And the Devil, he laughed fit to bust.
For the President, sex was a must;
He graded each session of lust,
And Monica knew
That whenever she blew
She was certain to be alpha-plussed.
A woman whose hair was all mussed,
Soon learned to adjust to each thrust.
As they rolled on a couch,
She stifled an “Ouch!”
Giving in to her passion and lust.
The man’s horny and knows that he must
Tell his wife that he’s feeling much lust.
If his wife’s in the mood,
He’ll suggest something lewd
And then hope that his wife gets his thrust.
The couple emerged very mussed
From a tryst that had sated their lust.
They enjoyed S and M,
He informed us: “Ahem,
Yes she is the one that I trussed.”
The young winemaker showed off his must
To the sculptress he hired whom had just
Commenced doing him in clay.
It was quite a display.
He pressed on and sprayed seed on her bust!
A woman whose hair is all mussed,
avows that the wind is robust,
though everyone sees,
by the dirt on her knees,
it was caused by a blow not a gust.
A woman whose hair was all mussed
Said no matter how much she fussed
She couldn’t unfurl
The unsightly whorl
And wondered if it could be trussed
A woman whose hair was all mussed
Said she had now lost all her trust
In straightening gels
With perfumey smells
And grabbed her scissors in disgust
Good grades are an absolute must.
That’s advice that you students can trust.
If you goof off and coast,
when you’re done, at the most,
you’ll likely be left in the dust.
Good grades are an absolute must
So “D’s” I must quickly adjust.
It’s easier to cheat
And live by deceit
Than learn the things that I must.
The boutique smelled of mildew and must
Which came from metal covered in rust.
The owner quiet old,
An antique unsold,
All wrinkled and covered with dust.
If proposing a book, then I must
Write in language a parent can trust.
I can’t say “organ size”
In a book for young eyes,
Even when sacred music’s discussed.
Mz Jolie said, “Sadly, I must,
Heed advice from the doctors I trust.
A mastectomy’s trouble,
But make mine a double.”
(Good thing her career’s not a bust!)
A woman whose hair was all mussed
And someHOW had no clothes on her bust,
Said: “That man is so quick,
But he needs a good kick.
With Flash around, who can you trust?”
The sculptor had finished; he must
Take his statue to wipe off the dust.
But he dropped it instead
And it broke near the head,
So what used to be statue is bust.
There once was a camel in must
Who could not quench the heat of his lust.
In that hot desert setting,
With limited sweating,
The beastie was quick to combust.
A vat of stomped grapes is called must
Without it, your wine would go bust
So squish all that pinot
And make us some vino
Who knows? It could lead to some lust!
An accountant had thoroughly mussed
Up a column of figures. He cussed:
“I subtracted. Perdition!
It called for addition!”
It left him completely non-plussed.
A woman whose hair was all mussed
And whose bedclothes were likewise said, “Lust
Is splendidly messy.
As I cry, ‘Yes, yes!’ he
Dishevels me more with each thrust.”
A lady whose hair was all mussed
Came down from the loft as she cussed.
“I came here today
For a roll in the hay
Then he jumped on his mare filled with lust”.
A bit of a punctuational nightmare, but here goes …
“Good grammar once was a must
“When I was at school!” Grandad cussed.
” ‘Stead of ‘I’, now it’s ‘me’,
” ‘Him’ for ‘he’, ‘her’ for ‘she’
” And last week I swear two ‘we’s’ ‘us’d’ !”
She was gorgeous! I knew that I must
Find a way of indulging my lust.
What was this that I felt?
Damn, a chastity belt!
It would seem that the girl had me sussed.
The wine-vault smelled strongly of must;
The burglar looked round in disgust.
“I’ve been wasting my time,
This stuff’s not worth a dime –
All the bottles are covered in dust!”
“For a limerick, music’s a must!”,
Says Bob Schechter, a fellow I trust.
But my work was diminished
Like Schubert’s “Unfinished” –
Mad threw it away in disgust.
The sheets had been mightily mussed
As some guy tried to sate her great lust.
“Penetration is fine,
But for cunnys like mine
The sole goal’s cunnilingus or bussed.”
Over bra-less young gals men do lust.
Sales of bras are way down, so store must
See the market’s shifting.
Though bras are uplifting,
Store will close ’cause their sales have gone bust.
In school, the three R’s were a must,
But at ‘rithmetic I was a bust.
My subtracting’s okay,
But when adding – like, say,
12 and 7, I’m simply nonplussed.
The Tin Man, like everyone, must
Meet his Maker and wind up as dust,
But unlike you and me,
On his stone “R.I.P.”
Will denote it’s in peace that he’ll rust.
Dolly Parton said, “Gravity must
Take a toll on the womanly bust,
But you’re never see these
Triple-D’s touch my knees
‘Cause I keep ’em sufficiently trussed.”
C.S.I. says your resumé must
Show you’re right for the job they’ve discussed.
Rogers Nelson once paid
You to work as his maid,
So for prints you’ll be able to dust.
My wife says a jock strap’s a must
Till we have the new kid we discussed.
So I wear one while sleeping
To show her I’m keeping
The jewels of the family trussed.
“The full thirty-one days are a must
For an Emperor’s month”, cried August-
us. “Old Caesar’s July
Has that number, so I
Think for August, it’s no more than just.”
Twiggy replies to Dolly:
Said Twiggy, “Though gravity must
Take its toll on the bust, I would just
Like to make you aware
That if nothing is there,
You don’t need to keep anything trussed.”
I don’t want to, but know that I must
Do the things that we’ve often discussed:
Get obesity shrinking,
Stop smoking and drinking …
Thank God, we said nothing of lust.
Her knickers were crumpled and mussed;
My trousers I tried to adjust
When my wife came home early
And said “Who’s this girly?”
“Our neighbour”, I told her, “Miss Trust.”
Irreplaceable monuments must
Be preserved, lest they crumble to dust.
The whole nation applauds:
Mrs T. at Tussaud’s
Has been bought by the National Trust.
(This may need a few words of explanation. “Mrs T.” was the appalling Margaret Thatcher, and a waxwork figure of her can be found at Madame Tussaud’s in London. The National Trust is dedicated to safeguarding Britain’s historic buildings, landscape and monuments. But I’m glad to say that the idea that they would wish to preserve her is pure ghoulish invention on my part.)
Fixing a typo in L3:
Dolly Parton said, “Gravity must
Take a toll on the womanly bust,
But you’ll never see these
Triple-D’s touch my knees
‘Cause I keep ‘em sufficiently trussed.”
An old vagrant who’s mucky and mussed
Is the object of others’ disgust.
He had once been a baker,
An adept pastry maker.
Now to tell, you must cut through the crust.
“In my business, no cops is a must,”
Said the stern dominatrix, “I just
See the clients I know.
Now stop asking and go,
‘Cause I’m certain you’re not one I trussed.”
The baker said baby you must
Wrap yourself inside my pie crust
And if you are willing
We’ll use for a filling
Your cherry I’ll pluck in a thrust
Jane’s hair was all thrown and mussed
From submitting to her animal lust
When sitting there bare
While tied to the chair
With him she diplayed complete trussed
In a relationship, there must
Be honesty, respect and trust
His cheating heart
Drove us apart
Now all my dreams have turned to dust
Blackbeard’s beard was all mussed
Below decks with crew he did trust
He shot Israel Hands
In the knee where he stands
“To obey me, to fear me they must!”
A limerick writer, he must
Break the rules if he thinks it is just,
Although still it’s not fine
To omit the last line.
“Good grades are an absolute must.
That’s why it’s so weird that I just
Got an F in addition.
I’m full of contrition.”
Thus our student was truly nonplussed.
“You should only do it if you must.
You should only do it if it’s just.”
Now that’s what he said,
But inside of his head –
(You should onoly do it if it’s lust.)
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 166.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun, because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick Slate.
Whoa there, Mad, it’s only 10:48 pm Eastern Time. So here’s one more.
Before there is wine there is must.
Before there is love there is lust.
This linear flow
Is everywhere, so
Before there are bunnies there’s dust.