Sweet Limerick (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 man in the mood for a sweet…*
or
A gal who was cloyingly sweet…*
or
A fellow who rented a suite…*
or
The cellist was playing a suite…*
*(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:
Sweet Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A woman had rented a suite
On a cruise that was far from elite:
Slow service, no sweets
On her pillow, bad eats.
But at least all the bedbugs were fleet.
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, Cruise Humor, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Poetry & Prompts, Travel Humor, Writing Prompts
The cellist was playing a suite;
She thought her performance was neat.
But how could it be?
For she was off key.
Her sour notes didn’t sound sweet.
RuPaul and her guy-gals look sweet,
Running drag races down Castro Street.
Their number one fans:
Frisco’s main Thom McAn’s,
Which sells heels for their size thirteen feet.
Ferlinghetti thinks status is sweet,
And for Ginsberg, renown is a treat.
But Jack Kerouac’s fame
Brings abashment and shame:
He’s becoming, well, read as a Beat.
Come on now, let’s hurry, tout de suite!
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, mon petit?
I don’t have all night.
You don’t answer me right,
I’ll link pics in a birthday suit tweet!
It is something she thinks is quite sweet
In Miami, to get lots of meat.
The players all score.
She’ll lay-up for more,
‘Cause the woman can take all the Heat!
“When you rent the clothes-optional suite,”
Warned the landlady in her brief tweet,
“If a gal and a dude
Want their leases re-nude,
They must not be seen from the street.”
Little Willy by a band called The Sweet
Was a smashing hot lyrical treat
When it was brand new
Back in ’72
And I still find it’s worth the repeat.
If your gal is hot and to boot sweet
Like a small cup of lemon tea fruit, treat
Her well and get ready
She might wear a teddy
To bed and give you a tout de suite!
I give her a Valentine sweet
Of hot fudge. It was really a treat.
When mixed with whipped cream,
It makes ladies scream
As you lick it right off of their meat!
My wife has a body that’s sweet:
Long tan legs and a tight little seat.
She’s a fine intellect,
Buys rare books to collect,
And her rare pair of Keats can’t be beat!
As we entered the honeymoon suite,
I swept my new bride off her feet.
“I’ll relift you each year’s
Anniversary, but fears
Are arrears growth might end this repeat.”
Please remove apostrophe from fears.
Note from Mad Kane: Done.
Just for fun…
A slight rewrite of Judge Smails (Ted Knight, Caddy Shack):
It’s easy to grin, big and sweet,
When your ship’s in ’cause stocks you have beat,
But the man that’s worth while
Is the man that can smile
When his shorts are too tight in the seat!
In Microsoft Windows’ past suite,
The Blue Screen of Death could be beat
By a full-on reboot
With 3 finger salute-
The solution’s ctrl-alt-delete
They claim that all victory’s sweet.
The high that it brings can’t be beat,
But if you’re a cheat
And win by deceit,
Once detected, you’ll feel low’s defeat.
As a kid, when you’re acting too sweet
And innocent, that calls complete
Attention en masse
To your lies and your ass.
Soon your agony’s felt in deseat!
Politicos, blissfully sweet,
Have ignorance, fully complete,
With heads, swelled as large
As a Titanic barge,
Which, mysteriously, still fit up their seat!
The cellist was playing a suite-
Brought tears to the learned aesthete.
It has to be Bach’s,
It’s beauty still shocks!
In elegance, it’s quite a feat.
A man in the mood for a sweet
Lady, whether large or petite,
Should be handsome and kind
And have a brilliant mind,
And better not be indiscreet.
My girlfriend is terribly sweet
And I tried to propose in a Tweet
But I’ve just asked if she
Would marinate me.
Godamn you Auto-complete!
a lady so innocent and sweet
the knights thought she’d be a treat
and there was a dandy
who wanted some candy
but she turned too sour to eat
a fellow who rented a suite
felt compulsion for keeping things neat
till his new paramour
a dominatrix whore
found a maid suit to make him complete
I’m late today. Here’s rhe reason:
Our dog is good-natured and sweet;
We took him today to compete
In a dog-show – third prize
(Though he’s first in our eyes) …
… Now I’m back on the limerick beat.
P.S. To Madeleine: I’m using a friend’s computer in the South of France, and when I try to go the Facebook site I get your announcement, but no sumissions or submission box, so I can’t post there. Is there a problem with Facebook, or should I just shoot my friend?
Though the sirloin was tender and sweet,
The girl said “I can’t swallow meat
Unless it’s organic.”
I told her, “Don’t panic,
I’ve something I’m sure you can eat.”
The Admiral’s daughter was sweet;
She was famed as the mariners’ treat.
“And they like her well-buttered”,
The Admiral muttered,
“They say she’s the toast of the fleet.”
Too much food that was stodgy and sweet
Killed a basket-ball player named Pete.
Though a giant at basket,
He shrank in his casket,
And now he is under six feet.
From within the Imperial suite
Nero cried: “Hurry down to the street!
Find a Christian or two –
Even children will do –
For my lions are out of fresh meat.”
The hooker was sexy and sweet
And was strutting her stuff on the street.
When I asked her the price,
I was busted for vice –
I’d accosted a cop on the beat.
A man in the mood for a sweet,
indulged in his favorite treat,
though never a wuss,
he’s now a big puss,
they say that you are what you eat.
“Mademoiselle, are you over dix-huit?”
I would ask all the French chicks I meet
If she’s 18 or older
I start to get bolder
If she’s not, then I’m out of there, VITE!
My day’s been a Nutcracker Suite —
The Mouse King (my boss) has me beat.
Though I work without break
‘Til my Sugar Plums ache,
There’s no way I’m conceding defeat!
(Out of Competition — rhyme word last. Also, dumb.)
He ordered baked beans as a treat
With a bottle of Château Lafite
At his ritzy hotel.
Now he doesn’t feel well,
And he needs some relief — “toot de suite”.
The folks in the Honeymoon Suite
Are being a tad indiscreet.
Simple moans, groans and cries
Cause the staff no surprise —
But good god! What’s the source of that bleat?
J.S. Bach, while composing a Suite,
Grew weary of tapping his feet.
Anna’s annual kid
Gives a hint what he did
To help him keep track of the beat.
Bach went, while composing his Suite,
To a Gentlemen’s Club for a treat.
As he watched the girls dance,
Inspiration (by chance)
Sent him “Air on the G-String”, complete.
If you want to break up with your sweet-
Heart, please don’t try avoiding the heat.
Believe me, it’s best
If such things are expressed
In person… and not as a Tweet.
Edited version
“What’s that seed you are planting?” “‘Tis wheat.
A pedestrian food, not elite.
Though quinoa’s in fashion
I still have a passion
For glutinous grains that we eat.”
“Then I’ll head to that medical suite,
Where I’ll seek out a doctor to treat
My celiac pains
Because of your grains.
Then I’ll sue the shoes off of your feet.”
In Cabo they rented a suite
Pedro and his girl Margarite
They boned until dawn
He came now he’s gone
A sad end to the tail re Pete
Making love was ever so sweet
Orgasms were long and were fleet
Once obtaining the knack
Each time ’round the track
Since his thing became sweaty feet
(To post this, at first, I was busting…
But later, my sense I’m mistrusting:
It may be the worst pun
That I ever have done,
And the subject’s a little disgusting:)
For years, I desired something sweet
To go with my fetish for feet.
So these days, I smear up
“I-F**k-Toes Porn Syrup”
Before I start beating my meat.
The cellist was playing a suite,
But she dropped her suite music sheet.
When it fell to the floor,
She couldn’t follow the score.
Without it, the suite wasn’t sweet.
Mr. Rush moved into a suite,
In a low-priced hotel on First Street
After tucked in and snug,
Bitten by a bedbug,
He bolted in half a heartbeat.
I’d always heard Melody’s sweet,
But I found that she tended to bleat,
While her sister Anita
Is silent and sweeter
And bonks like a bunny in heat.
The new baby-sitter was sweet;
She decided to give me a treat.
The kid had been fed
So she pulled down my head
Saying “Your turn to suck on a teat.”
The lothario said, “My sweet,
Let us adjourn now to my suite,
Where, if you please,
We’ll play birds and bees.”
The lass replied, “This bird don’t tweet.”
While the flautist was playing Bach’s suite,
The conductor kept missing the beat,
For she blew with such skill
He imagined the thrill
Of her blowing his own piece of meat.
KUBLA WHO?
“Milk of Paradise”, wonderfully sweet,
And “on honeydew fed” – what a treat!
But from Porlock, a bore
Came and knocked at the door,
So the poem remained incomplete.
The chance for revenge, it was sweet.
San Anton didn’t want a repeat.
The pressure was there,
Which they handled with flair.
It was clear they could all take the Heat
Though her parents were loving and sweet,
Lizzie Borden decided to beat
Them to death with an axe,
And with eighty-one whacks,
Her self-orphaning job was complete.
A fellow had rented a suite
His mistress intending to meet
As he came through the door
‘Twas his wife that he saw
Time to beat a hasty retreat
A fellow who rented a suite,
For trysts he considered so sweet
Was caught in a lie
He could not deny
And slithered away in defeat
The cellest was playing a suite
To please the most snobby aesthete
The snob he was pleased
Till the cellist did sneeze
And blew quite away the last squeak
A man tantalizingly sweet
Onstage; his fans will compete
After meeting, however,
Disappointed, together,
They might just cry out, where’s the meat?
Mr. Allgar, regarding Bach’s suite:
Whilst, on one hand, I did go off-sheet,
You don’t understand so
You mock affrettando,
The other hand took up the beat!
Didn’t you wonder why my podium was so tall?
Won’t you come up to my suite
And we can go on ’til complete
All night long, guaranteed
My darling, I’m freed…
This time I won’t be so effete.
To dabble in words is so sweet
Patterning words so they meet
And to reach a crescendo
Of double-entend… oh!
All right, for that rhyme, I did cheat ;-)
Sorry Mad – can I ask to remove the last “r” on crescendo and the one on entend… whoops!
Note from Mad Kane: Done. :)
A man in a mood for a sweet
Affair with a woman discreet.
Didn’t care ’twas quick
As long as the chick
Didn’t squeal and tell all in a tweet.
A gal who was cloyingly sweet
Sent a titillatingly fiery tweet.
It said “I am ready”
“To go hot and steady.”
“And I promise I won’t tear the sheet.”
A fellow who rented a suite
From a gal who was cloyingly sweet
Then made a fast pass
Got a boot in the ass
And hit the concrete on Main Street.
A gal from the South in a suite
With an ebony gent she thought neat,
Spied a man in a hood,
Which could not have been good
‘Cause she turned quite as white as his sheet.
Corporations consider it sweet
They can claim it’s unchristian to meet
What’s required by law —
Too bad no one foresaw
Our new hobby: make THEM obsolete!
Well, I thought it would surely be sweet
To stop writing lim’ricks this week;
Oh the places I’d go…
But my mood got so low
I just sat contemplating my feet.
Oops- don’t know how I managed that rhyme fail. Here’s the rewrite:
Well, I thought it would surely be sweet:
I’d skip lim’ricks this week for a treat!
Oh the places I’d go…
But my mood got so low
I just sat contemplating my feet.
@Brian
THE WRATH OF KUBLA
That scene in the movie was sweet —
As Coleridge sits there in his seat,
The knock comes anon,
And the poet cries: “KHAAAAAN!”
Bill Shatner’s best thespian feat.
At Halloween, saucy and sweet,
A young lady was trawling my street
As the “Halloween Whore”,
So I opened the door,
And the trick that she turned was a treat.
I had taken the honeymoon suite
With my mistress. It proved indiscreet,
For the photos on-site
Showed us spending the night,
And my wife’s thrown me out on the street.
The Don had a roof-garden suite
Where his rivals had all come to meet.
He offered them views
That they couldn’t refuse –
A fifty-floor drop to the street.
Bragged the artist, “To paint is so sweet.
Slopping gobs on the sidewalk’s a treat.
I’ve done Pollock one better.
I’m an opposites getter.
My work’s abstract but also concrete.”
I’ve married a woman who’s sweet,
One who likes to keep herself neat;
One who cleans, one who cooks,
One who’s blessed with good looks:
I just hope these five never meet!
A cellist playing a suite
Couldn’t keep to the beat
In fact his bow
Was moving so slow
He wasn’t even on the same sheet
The Metric System’s measures are sweet.
The English System some think is neat.
Feet and meters don’t mix,
So, in our limericks,
Explain how we use metric feet!
A girl who appeared very sweet
Had sex with a guy on a seat
Not much of a looker
In fact was a hooker
And didn’t provide a receipt.
Mad, would yiu mind deleting that last one? I slightly altered it:
“Cut their access to healthcare tout de suite!”
Cried the court with paternal conceit…
(Steeped in masculine lore,
They feared not waging war
Against women would look très effete.)
Note from Mad Kane: Done. :)
> The cellist was playing a suite
> Full of flats, sharps and rests quite replete,
> But he sneezed and his bow
> Hit the floor and you know
> You can’t play by rote with your feet!
>
>
>
>
A states’-righter took over a suite,
And had women brougt in from the street.
Said he,”I’ve had fifty.
One per state–that’s right nifty.
My work here, for now, is complete.
The woman acted saccharine sweet.
Underneath she’s more sour than upbeat.
She said she loved birds,
But those were just words,
For she roasted a cute parakeet.
Miss Stout, in the mood for a sweet,
Declared her sheer, all-out, defeat.
She had to lament
Her resolve that for Lent
She had vowed to not overeat.
Another one for my collection of feminist limericks which I’m SURE will soon be flying off the shelves :)
Girls are taught they are spicy and sweet
A delicious consumable treat
Boys are taught they’re about
Things to want and act out
Have you wondered why boys aren’t to eat?
A celliste was playing a suite
Of Bach at Musical meet
To tunes contrapuntal
She showed them full-frontal
And they noted her boobs hit her feet,
Said a sailor who stayed with his swee-
Heart too losg, “I’ve s curfew to beat.
I’m in such a bad spot.
It is clear that I’ve got
To be fleet to get back to the fleet.”
Rhett Butler reserved a nice suite
Where he and Miss Scarlett could meet.
But the bed had no linen.
The maid explained, grinnin’,
“Sir, frankly, I don’t give a sheet!”
The love of a woman is sweet,
And can make any man feel complete.
It can heal heart and soul,
So his wounds will be whole,
Till the night that she hacks off his meat.
@Will
Will, your “Air on the G-string” gave me my laugh of the day.
After that, Bach met B—, such a sweet
Little Miss, a delectable treat.
He exclaimed “Meine kleine!”,
But B— was a minor;
“Underage” is on his charge-sheet.
(Will won’t need any clues, but some might like to know that Bach wrote a “Missa in B minor”.)
A politico, blissfully sweet,
Has an Ignorance, fully complete,
With a head swelled as large
As a Titanic barge
That somehow can fit up their seat!
(Please delete the first version, Mad.)
Your sister was terribly sweet
To welcome all sailors she’d meet.
Made such an impression
With her big obsession,
They’d flock to join her navel fleet!
Mix sour with salty and sweet,
Then watch as the flavors compete,
For your full attention,
But I should first mention,
TEQUILA which makes this complete.
In honor of the July 4th Holiday Weekend I’ve provided below my “Madkane Hates Lime – Margarita Recipe,” enjoy:
1) Douse two (2) martini glasses (or margarita glasses or any short glasses) with cold water and shove em in the freezer.
2) SALT — Cover a saucer with about a quarter of an inch of Kosher Salt (or regular salt is OK in a pinch)
3) Fill a martini shaker with ice.
4)SOUR – Toss into the icy shaker one (1) shot of GRAPEFRUIT JUICE (or you can use Lime if it’s not for Madeleine)
5) SWEET – Toss into the icy shaker two (2) shots of TRIPLE SEC (a little less if you like things tart, a little more if you like things sweet)
6) SMILES – Toss into the icy chaker five and half (5.5) shots of TEQUILA (I use silver in my margaritas)
7) Retrieve the frosty glasses from the freezer and moisten the edge of each glass with a paper napkin dipped in juice.
8)Turn the frosty glasses upside down and kinda grind them into the saucer of salt to give them a nice “Salty Edge”
9) Cap the shaker and shake up your elixir vigorously (The loud sounds will build anticipation)!
10) Carefully fill each chilled and salted glass with this tasty icy drink.
11) Enjoy and Repeat!
A man in the mood for a sweet
Searched high and then low for a treat
But his cupboards were bare
And all heard him swear
With words none would dare to repeat
There once was a man who was sweet,
And was also unfailingly neat.
Sadly, gals thought him gay,
So he never got play,
But he coped without missing a beat.
A reporter sure thought it was sweet
When the plummeting gent hit concrete.
“Did it hurt when you fell?
Did you vex some cartel?”
The hack asked of the man in the street.
“Postal work for the most part is sweet.
I don’t mind hail or rain, snow or sleet.
I can take all the cold,
But the truth, if be told–
What I really can’t stand is the heat.”
“They tell me that twitter is sweet.”
Said the novice. “But it’s not so neat,
‘Cause it’s hell to connect
When the autocorrect
Changes ‘fondle’ to ‘fuck’ in my tweet.”
.
‘
Now limerick writing is sweet.
To finish one up is a treat.
But this one I find
Keeps food in my mind,
So I think I’ll get something to eat.
I’m back but now sleeping sounds sweet.
I’d keep writing on, but I’m beat.
To get to the end,
I’ll have to pretend.
To be honest, I must use deceit
I heard Jack at a reading. How sweet.
And shook Kerouac’s hand! Life’s complete!
With that palm titillated,
I then masturbated —
I so enjoyed meeting that Beat!
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 171.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick Drill.