Limerick Rite (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 10:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A fellow was trying to write…*
or
A woman, convinced she was right…*
or
We’re lost. You were s’posed to turn right…*
or
A man who believed might makes right…*
or
A gal was engaged in a rite…*
*(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 Rite
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A woman was trying to write,
But her right and left brains had a fight.
So her muse, unamused,
Feeling slighted, abused
And benighted took flight, just for spite.
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, Creativity, Inspirational Verse, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Muse, Poetry & Prompts, Writing & Publishing Humor, Writing Prompts
An Amish gal, Julia Wright,
Was a nympho. Her sexual plight:
Yearning nightly for sex
With her husband named Rex.
The solution was two Mennonite.
Said the foreman, “Now let’s get it right –
We must measure this flagpole tonight.
We could lay it down flat,
But the trouble with that
Is, ’twould give us the length, not the height.”
Though our dog is unable to write,
He can play the piano all night.
He finds Chopin a breeze
As he chews up the keys,
But his Bach is far worse than his bite.
Said the woman, “There’s something not right,
For my teeth are all healthy and white.
Though my dentist agrees,
He says “Open wide, please”,
And he’s drilling my mouth every night.”
A fellow was trying to write
A poem, on a girl, at night.
While his notepad was raw,
He fell out with the law
As his poem wasn’t polite.
A woman, convinced that she was right,
(But admittedly wasn’t too bright)
Ignored her man’s pleading
That the term was misleading,
And tried to blow, with all her might.
Christie was attempting to write
A plot that was flawless. Airtight!
But Poirot lost his gray cells
And no longer excels,
So the plot turned into a plight.
The witch was performing her rite
In Macbeth, giving Gingrich a fright.
When she reached “Eye of Newt”
He jumped up, and said “Shoot!
She ain’t gettin’ my eyeballs tonight!”
William Shakespeare was trying to write
A new play, but but was stuck for a tit-
le. He laid down his pen
And called Bacon again,
Who complained “That’s the twelfth bloody night!”
A woman, convinced she is right,
Was at her reunion last night.
She won’t tell what year,
It’s her silly fear:
A young guy she wants to excite.
A woman was trying to write,
a story but needed insight,
so Maureen Dowd bought,
a brownie of pot,
but then took too big of a bite.
A gal was engaged in a rite
Putting on jeans too tight
She huffed and puffed
And soon had enough.
But was glad they came off last night.
A fellow was trying to write
To a gal his heart she did smite.
He copied a poem
He found in a tome.
John Donne never failed to delight.
“We’re lost. You were s’posed to turn right.”
“It’s dark and we’re now out of sight.”
“So let’s go to the lake
Just for old times’ sake
And make love like we did our first night.”
“We’re lost. You were s’posed to turn right…
It’s not such a difficult rite.
Your liberal views
are always bad news,
when our congressman looks for a fight.“
Today as a matter of right,
Most women seek pleasures at night.
So they’ll find them a man,
Who will come when he can,
And delight till the dawn’s early light.
A woman was trying to write
A limerick to show her delight
To have gone to a school
Where talent is the rule.
And everyone is very bright.
A man, convinced he was right,
Never hesitated to pick up a fight.
Now when he got married,
His wife was deeply harried,
And she punished him with a long starving night.
“A split of your assets seems right,”
Said the judge to the couple’s delight,
“But I’m taking the collie
Away ’cause, by golly,
I won’t halve a dog in this fight.”
A sailing ship captain named Wright
Studied binary digits at night.
He was fooling around
When his boat ran aground.
Now his barque is much worse than his byte.
That assignment you gave us to write—
The one on the Wright brothers’ flight?
I’d be turning it in
Like the others, Miss Flynn,
But the dog ate my homework last night.
A fellow was trying to write
Kept hearing a dog in the night
He then took a walk
and did not even balk
Before giving the owner a bite
Limericking’s become a rite
Of passage, I’ve found, every night
Having earned my first mention
It’s caught my attention;
I’m in for one hell of a fight!
A common theme’s come into sight
While reviewing how others do write
Not usually flirty,
I’ve got to get dirty
And go all the way, keeping tight.
A woman convinced she was right
Told the man to turn left at the light
He went straight instead
To the cliffs they did head
So her seatbelt she pulled extra tight
A young lawyer who hated to write
Legal documents gave up the fight
When she noticed that meter
And rhyme were much sweeter.
For Mad, it was love at verse sight.
“Were it not for two brothers named Wright,
I would never have known such delight!”
Cried a chick on a plane
Coming into Fort Wayne,
Getting off on her very first flight.
One day Wilbur and Orville Wright
Woke up and said “let us take flight”
Before long it was found
To get off of the ground
The secret was something called height
My ex-wife was convinced she was right.
Said, ‘These pants fit my tiny ass tight.”
If I hadn’t corrected her,
I might not have collected her
Six-inch heel where no sun’s meant to light!
A fellow was trying to write
Some humor for a chicken site
He scrambled his joke
Because runny yolk
Mixed up punch lines for the egg white
A woman, convinced she was right
That her beau, was not very bright
Said his manners were crass
Whenever he passed gas
While asking if she had a light
She: “My pants make my ass look fat, right?”
He: “It’s not your new pants that I’d cite.
You’re a gem weighed in troys.
Switch to avoirdupois–
Seventeen percent less the first night!”
Polly was convinced she was right,
That Patrick had lost his insight.
The girl Pat admired
Was a guy who aspired
To being a cute transvestite.
Joe believed might was perfectly right.
Over faith, he was willing to fight.
He spilled onto his back
When he felt the strong whack
From a brown-habited Carmelite.
A harlot involved in a rite
Would swing every night from the light
But jealous Ma.am Lash
Choked her with her sash
And said “Dear you’e not very bright”
I look to my left and my right
As I hurry through streets with no light,
‘Cause this neighborhood’s tough,
And the thugs all play rough,
Like two Crips whom I pass in the night.
This family, name of Cartwright
Hit the barroom each Saturday night
Then, the theme song, “Bonanza”
They would sing every stanza!
And they’d bust up the joint in a fight
“We’re lost! You were s’posed to turn right!”
Karl Rove raved. The same mantra all night
As the vote counts rolled in
And his guy didn’t win
Despite being more rich and more white.
As part of the funeral rite,
Dead Egyptians were wrapped in some white
Linen strips, and were stressed
When they laid them to rest.
Their mummies were bound to be uptight
A sultan was trying to write
A memoir titled Harem Delight
About how a man thrives
On a surfeit of wives
Plus a new catamite every night.
ONE WAY TO ARGUE A TICKET
Officer Whit tried to write
a ticket- I’d sped through the light
“It was yellow,” I said
“We both know it was red.
And my radar gun proves that I’m right.”
“When was it last calibrated?
‘Cause if not today, I’m elated.
I’ll see you in court, Whit
And when you report it
This ticket? Invalidated!”
The old coot who thought he could write
Was really not terribly bright.
The man couldn’t spell
Or punctuate well,
And he wasn’t a bit contrite.
“Charged with speeding? That just can’t be right!”
Werner Heisenberg said with delight.
“The police cannot prove
Where I was on the move
If they’re sure of the speed that they cite.”
This gal is engaged in a rite
Her skill at which can’t be called slight.
She knows how to kneel
And make customers feel
Every prayer her sweet tongue can recite.
A woman, convinced she was right
Said to hubby, in bed one night
The truth’s hard to take
But make no mistake
Your sexual performance is shite
Since with Santa the sex isn’t right,
Mrs. Claus slips from bed every night.
To his workshop she goes,
Nimbly doffs all her clothes,
And gets elf-satisfaction ’til light.
A woman, convinced she was right,
turned out to not be too bright.
Her opinions were bold,
but when others were polled,
they said she was high as a kite.
A gal was engaged in a rite
she squat with a lighter so bright
then she broke wind
and everyone grinned
this drunk gal won’t remember this night
A lady whose husband was right
Accused her of cheating. “Why fight?
The baby you bore
Just proves you’re a whore
Because two Wongs don’t make a white!”
Please delete that first one, Mad. I have a terrible time trying to post from my Kindle. Can you put a quote at the end of that second one, or do you need to delete them both and have me repost?
Note from Mad Kane: Done … and … done. :)
“We’re lost. Let’s try turning right,”
Said Herb at a lengthly stop light.
He would not ask (the fool!)
How to reach his son’s school.
They arrived just after midnight.
Samantha engaged in a rite,
Backing up to her dear husband Dwight.
Her pink butt, it was nude.
He was not in the mood —
A mistake, he resolved, with “hindsight.”
There are liberals that lean so far right
That they’ve no sense of balance in sight.
Then there’s those that lean left
So damn far they’ve a cleft
In their cheeks ’cause their ass is too tight!
We’re lost you were s’posed to turn right
You shouldn’t have jumped that red light
We’ve the cops up our arse
This whole trip’s a farce
You’ll not be getting any tonight.
Actually, Mad, this one’s the keeper:
The Tea Party leans so far right
No hint of a balance sees light
They’re so far extremist
They’re making it seem as
Though Boehner’s left of Barry White!!
Pat and Steve’s matrimonial rite
Was a sight: Pat in red, Steve in white.
He thinks Pat’ s virgin pure.
She’s a two-dollar whore–
That’ll be quite a Honeymoon night!!
Here’s a saying I’ve heard; is it right?
“A dog’s bark is much worse than its bite.”
I do think you’ll agree,
When the limb of a tree
Hits the roof, then its bark takes a bite.
You twit, you were s’posed to turn right
At that Shaftesbury Avenue light.
It appears, you big lout,
That the theater’s out,
Since we’re now on the Isle of Wight.
A woman was trying to write
A limerick that would be bright.
And to her surprise
She won the first prize!
Now she and Mad Kane are real tight.
A fellow was trying to write
A limerick funny and trite.
But he harbored a hunch
That his lines held no punch,
So he drank some and slept through the night.
A woman, a liberal playwright,
Was tired of politicos, way right.
Her new plays to expose
Are so biased, it shows
That she’s just as bad as are they, right?
A gal was engaged in a rite
That’s often performed in the night.
Do I have to tell it?
To out-and-out spell it?
If so then you’re not very bright.
I lean to the left ‘cause it’s right
Today’s GOP is a fright
Tea and Koch party rules
Favor greed, guns and fools
who see only in Caucasian white
They all laughed, but I’ll show ’em who’s right
When I mutate this pest with my sleight.
My wee pet won’t cause scabies;
It will now transmit rabies.
They’ll all tremble and cringe at my mite!
‘Til the stewardess meets “Mr. Right”
Her first day on the job; she’s uptight.
You might ask how’d she know
That the man was her beau.
It was easy. ‘Twas love at first flight.
As he soars, banking left and then right,
He’s exalted by effortless flight.
He considers a joint,
But there’s really no point;
He’s already as high as a kite.
With a tip of the hat to Kirk Miller.
She just knew the location was right
When the sun gently banished the night.
Now her edifice grows
As her countenance glows;
Without doubt, it was love at first site.
The wife always thinks she is right
I just nod my head and sit tight
My spirit is sagging
Enough of the nagging
I’m leaving the old hag tonight.
A fellow, while trying to write,
Kept profanity clear out of sight.
He used “gosh darn” and “frak”;
That stuff doesn’t mean jack!
That’s to say it’s a huge crock of shite.
Colonoscopy didn’t go right.
Doc got drunk on some beer; was quite tight.
He berated a nurse
In a voice that was terse,
And complained, “What I want’s a Butt Light.”
A priest tried rewriting his rite
Into limericks, all day and night.
But the gods of old Sumer
Had no sense of humor,
And smote him a terrible smite.
——-
The crazy American Right
Lamented the prisoner’s plight…
‘Til we got the man back.
Then they chose to attack.
Is there nothing they won’t do for spite?
——-
Congressional folk on the Right
Resemble a 20-Watt light:
They’re easy to buy;
Don’t get changed ’til they die;
And — of course — they’re not terribly bright.
——-
(Apologies to Chris Doyle:)
The Cap’n is trying to right
His capsizing ship in the night.
Though the Bay is all placid,
His ship’s built half-assèd…
His barque is much worse than his bight.
——-
Two wrongs don’t result in a right.
But what of two rights? Though you might
Say “a left”, which is funny,
Two (W)rights, for my money,
Gave us the invention of flight.
——-
Ugh. Not my best work, by a long way.
For days I’ve been trying to write
Something decent to post on this site.
But this week, I’m at odds
With the limerick gods,
So I quit. Thank you, all, and good night!
In Iraq things ain’t going quite right
The Sunnis are now itching to fight
They walked into the shit
Way up north in Tikrit
To reclaim Saddam’s stinkin’ birthright
With all that surge cash arms were in sight
McCain is proving to be insanely trite
He wants more of the same
And Obama’s to blame
For the neocons it’s all a delight
The future for Baghdad’s not bright
And history again we’ll rewrite
They’ll sum up in words
To chagrin of the Kurds
That self rule is not meant as their plight
They’ve heard one too many a sound bite
As innocents continue to take flight
At home it’s golly gee
What’s one more refugee
All because they were born as Shiite
A fellow was trying to write
A poem about flying a kite
But try as he would
It wasn’t that good
He couldn’t get up to that height
A gal was engaged in a rite
That began with some drinks at first light.
Then she went for a glide.
As she sailed with pride,
She indeed was as high as a kite.
A woman, convinced she was right,
Went out with a vampire one night,
And when he drew first blood
(A stream, not a flood),
It indeed was true love at first bite.
A man – he believed might makes right.
Then he beat someone up in a fight.
But this seemed so wrong
As a way to be strong
That now he believed right makes might.
“We don’t see why you can’t write Wright right,”
Said Orville and Wilbur with bite.
The reporter, who had
Never seen them so mad,
Thought it best that he too take up flight.
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 168.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick Okays.