The Competitor (Limerick-Off Monday) Rhyme Word: Compete or Peat
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 as a comment to this post 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 who loved to compete…*
or
Don’t laugh, but I plan to compete…*
or
A gardener needed some peat…*
*(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:
The Competitor (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A fellow who loved to compete
Swore his records had never been beat.
But his one claim to fame
Is the one he won’t name.
Biggest braggart — it’s his in a heat.
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: Braggart Verse, Bragging Humor, Competition Humor, Competition Limerick, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
Yeah I like it!
Here’s mine:
A fellow who loved to compete
wore insoles glued onto his feet
He won every race
at breathtaking pace
And nobody thought him a cheat
Two guys who would like to compete
For the gals they would meet on the street,
Met their match with one girl,
Who would give them a whirl,
If they’d share her as HER special treat.
A fellow who loved to compete
With roommates in soiling their sheets
So proficient was he
In producing his pee
That he end up winning the grand prix.
A gardener needed some peat
So he went to a house down the street,
Asked a housewife in red
“Can I get in your bed?”
She replied “You can leave tout de suite”.
Competing Views
A fellow who loved to compete
in races he couldn’t complete
just entered to stare
at each cute derriere
he gladly chose not to defeat.
A sandal-shod fellow named Pete
Inhabits the island of Crete
Where as often as not
The road surface gets hot –
Heat your feet on Pete’s neat Cretan street.
That sandal-shod fellow named Pete
Got tired of the island of Crete
So he hoofed it away
For a long holiday-
Saying “I have to get out to excrete”
Sorry Sue.
Diane, I can’t hope to compete
With your sequel about Pete from Crete.
It’s teatime for you
While my day’s almost through
And my brain and my body are beat.
But please go ahead and repeat
What became of our friend Pete from Crete
Where is he, I wonder?
Perhaps he’s Down Under
Where heat is more common than sleet.
The sandals (or flipflops) that Pete
Invari’bly wears on his feet: –
If he came to BC’s
Chilly mountains they’d freeze
Like two kilos of Costco’s raw meat.
Yes I’ll tell you the story of Pete
Who departed the island of Crete.
He just got the pip
So he jumped on a ship
Whose captain was very discreet.
Perhaps we should never repeat
What happened to Pete, once of Crete,
On the ship that he boarded –
A story so sordid
It can’t be put out on the street.
I’m not too upset about Pete
And his antics on’t ship leaving Crete
There were ladies galore
And one thing’s for sure
Bye and bye he’ll soon be in the suite.
Just to Re-Pete…
The coming and going of Pete
— in fashion exposing his feet —
from isle to ocean
is pointless devotion
to someone who can’t take the heat.
An evangelist fellow named Pete
Handed pamphlets to all he did meet
But I told him his tract
Was far too abstract
And he should present something con- crete
Each week at Mad Kane’s we compete
For a chance to transcend the elite.
It’s short-lived, once aloft,
Then, just like Microsoft,
It restarts with ctrl-alt-delete.
At long last, she was set to compete
With her flower beds fin’ly complete.
All top ribbons she’d take.
When asked, “How, for Pete’s sake?”
Claimed she won because she forsakes peat!
A woman who loved to compete
Creatively, it was a treat!
With art works, she won;
With rhymes, not yet done!
Indeed that would be no mean feat!
A woman knew not to compete
With women whose clothes were aesthete.
They dressed a la mode,
With wealth overflowed!
For her style was always offbeat.
A fellow who loved to compete
For love of the ladies, so sweet,
Would give them great sex,
Hot nibbles and pecks.
Seductions that could not be beat.
In life, it’s our goal to compete
On a field level, fair, and replete
With the chance to advance
To the top. Sycophants
Will still try to get by, lie and cheat.
A Minotaur, fierce; full of savage heat
Once dwelled on the ancient Island of Crete.
In the Labyrinth he lived
He’d kill King Minos’ captives
By Prince Theseus’ brave hand, he was beat!
In order to better compete,
The slick pol campaigned on deceit.
His speech had more lies
Than garbage has flies,
Still, he won the congressional seat.
When there’re subject* replies about Pete
And others’ first tries, incomplete,
As their task sits before ’em,
I see Alice’s clit’s bore ’em
New life. (*REs: Erecting old meat.)
According to Pete…
Diane, your evangelist Pete
just gave you the wrong folded sheet.
His large tri-fold brochure
has such detailed allure
he swears it will make you “see Crete”.
Ron B., do you think that if Pete
At sea with not much on his feet
And suitcase still packed
Met Pete-with-the-tract
His sad depressed state that would treat?
Concerning our sandalled friend Pete
And evangelist namesake (not neat)
I assume it is fair
To say that with prayer
With 3 words they could rescue a fleet.
To Sue:
Assuming Diane Is Correct…
No, in fact, I believe if said Pete
is asea in the fantasy “suite” —
a good man’s position
parlayed with a mission
would be doomed to deaf ear and defeat.
A fellow who loved to compete
Tried his line on six girls off the street.
Three slapped his face
and two others sprayed mace
But the last offered things indiscreet.
If suitors were asked to compete
For your hand, it would scare the whole fleet.
You’re so fugly and large
As a 50 tonne backrge,
And King Kong couldn’t sweep you off your feet!
No suitors are asked to compete
For my hand, or my legs or my feet
When I just want to dream
To raise self esteem
I’ll just give Georgege Clooney a Tweet.
if nobody wants to compete
for a job or awards, then i wonder
how people decide one’s position,
to stand firmly on one’s feet,
everyone has to compete to feel sad or great.
share you limerick with our humor prompt today.
best wishes.
Blessèd Ends
It’s a tour – there’s no need to compete;
Just enjoy the bike – helm, gloves and cleat.
Long-ass ride makes my bum
Start to chafe, then go numb –
Trade from shorts to my kilt with kick pleat.
A fellow who loved to compete
Took a shot at a flying clay skeet.
The shot went awry
Went straight to the sky
And landed in front of his feet.
Don’t laugh I mean to compete
I’m a banker and ready to cheat.
Then the world I will trot
On my eighty foot yacht
For deceit when discreet tops defeat.
.
The banker who loves to compete
Without guilt all accounts he’ll deplete.
Told by his soothsayer
Just hit the taxpayer
To restore all the billion I cheat.
.
The only way to compete
In business with others who cheat.
Is to steal every dime
Since stealing’s no crime
So it’s neat on Wall Street to mistreat.
For affections, I’m set to compete
And your loving would make life complete.
If our hearts take a ride
Right up front side by side,
May the rest of us take the back seat.
For laughs she prepared to compete
With a touch soft and light; what a treat.
So much laughter we’ve shared
Though, at first, I got scared
When she said, “Here’s my test tickles, sweet!”
Close but no Cigar
I think if you had to come, Peter
You’d find some young bird and come pleat ‘er
By blowin’ on dress pleats
Like Bill Clinton’s mess seats.
(Bill convinced every twit ‘er he’d come tweet ‘ er!)
For the biggest male pig I’ll compete
As I point out your prime, A1 seat.
Your fine gluteus maximus
Faced childish attacks from us.
May you cum pleatly bare each repeat.
Pooph The Magic Dragon
When puff said to Pete “you’re on fire,
let go of my tail or expire”
Pete said: I’m so cool!
just drop on me drool
and soprano he sang with the choir.
A fellow who loved to compete
Took a teacher to bed, quite a feat.
He was drunk. ‘Twas unwise,
For he couldn’t arise.
So she graded his work “Incomplete.”
Easy Chair
A wise husband refused to compete
with his wife for their favorite seat.
T’was a chair she’d recline
until being supine
made it easy to be indiscreet.
Wrecked Respect
Now as moss, I was “boss”, but as peat
I’m just rotting away in the heat
till I’m bagged to be spread
on a vegetable bed
and be treated like dirt by a beet.
For Peat’s Sake
Now as moss I was “boss”, but as peat
I just rot from my head to my feet
till I’m hardened as coal
or I’m heaped in a hole
that will make my life cycle complete.
For Miss Universe she should compete.
She is built like a brick house, complete
With an ample upstairs
And a back porch that bears
A resemblance to fine art from Crete.
Manufacturers always compete
At a watch-making industry meet.
It should not be a shock
That they all watch the clock.
It’s a race against Timex, quite neat.
I’m a guy who likes to compete
and see if it’s you I can beat
by getting a sign
from the back of my mind,
And putting more words in the last than you, as a weet ;-)
here is my try:
all men like to compete,
so that they have pride and fame indeed,
not all men prefer to break,
not even for Sam Walton’s sake,
thus, it is racing time, Mary against Meet.
In Lim-offs I love to compete
But I know I will soundly be beat
And I’m wasting my time
If my lines fail to rhyme
And for sure if my meters don’t mete.
Busch Garden
A gardener — for want of some peat —
would have lost a prized flower to heat,
but forsaking his brew
said “This, bud, is for you”
as he emptied his glass at its feet.
Don’t laugh, but I plan to compete
in your upcoming track and field meet.
I know I’ll prevail.
No way I can fail,
‘cause there’s no one as good as a cheat.
A SAD BUT TRUE STORY
In politics, if you compete
For an occupied Congressman’s seat,
You won’t get enough folks
If you rankle the Kochs.
Their big bucks will, alas, mean defeat.
The sheet is replete with compete
The use of peat is discrete
The options are there
I’m pulling my hair
Repeat to complete the beat or cheat?
A girlie who loved to compete
In the Games was endowed with three feet.
Said “I know it is hard
But 3 feet make a yard
When you start I’ll be way down the street”.
The old wrangler chose to compete
On a steer they called Sugarland Pete
While up in the air
He crossed off a square
To complete his life long bull sheet
A fellow who loved to compete
Attended a dancing hall meet
But it wasn’t his day
And I’m sorry to say
It’s because he had two left feet
In matters of love, I compete.
I like to come suave, to come neat.
Though I love to stand tall,
I must say, most of all,
When I come, I do want to complete.
A prostitute loved to compete
With her rivals, who walked on the street.
But stilettos she used
Took their toll as she cruised.
‘Twas a feat to survive on her feet.
A prostitute loved to compete
With her rivals who greeted the fleet.
She welcomed each sailor,
Who offered to nail her,
With her breasts she described as petite.
There ionce was a fellow called Peat
By his frienas, who all thought that was neat,
And Peat was not cross,
‘Cause his last name was Moss.
His punderful name was complete.’
Lim’rick contests tempt all to compete.
The meter has rules you must meet.
If you don’t take the time
To make sure that you rhyme,
Mad will throw you right out on the street.
I knocked at the Gates of St. Pete,
Thinking “Heaven looks really quite sweet”.
But he gave me the push
Saying “Bugger off, Bush –
There’s a place for you just down the street.”
The hooker refused to compete
In the beef-eating contest’s last heat.
She explained “It was fun
For a while, but I’m done –
I’ve had more than enough of jerked meat.”
The body was buried in peat,
But whose was the corpse, so petite?
They think it was Maisie’s
That pushed up the daisies,
Or could it have been Marguerite?
(Perhaps I should add that “marguerite” is a kind of daisy.)
This week I was set to compete
With the best of the lim’rick elite,
But I think I’ll abort,
Cuz my entry is short
By two feet.
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 and the Honorable Mention Winners: Limerick of the Week 197.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Tart Limerick.