Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: BONE or TROMBONE at the end of Line 1 or 2 or 5
It’s Limerick-Off time, once again. And that means I write a limerick, and you write your own, using the same rhyme word. Then you post your limerick as a comment to this post and, if you’re a Facebook user, on Facebook too.
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick using either BONE or TROMBONE at the end of Line 1 or Line 2 or Line 5. (Homonyms or homophones are fine.)
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.)
Here’s my limerick:
I often enjoy the trombone
When its notes are well-played and not blown.
But I loathe being hit
By trombone-player spit.
For their slobber, it’s time to atone.
Please feel free to write your own limerick using the same rhyme word 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: Behavior & Personality, Competition Limerick, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Limerick-Offs, Music Humor & Verse, Poetry & Prompts, Trombone, Writing Prompts
I recently saw a trombone
that shoots fire whenever it’s blown.
A friend asked me, Why?
I’m not sure, said I,
but he’ll play with his hot bone alone.
(This is based on an actual video I saw on FB, and an actual question asked me by a trombonist friend).
The bounciest girl he had known
Was astride him, and couldn’t be thrown.
But her thrusts were so rough
That he cried “That’s enough –
I think you’ve just broken my bone!”
Though she wanted to play the trombone,
All her blowing produced was a groan.
Still, she managed to land
A good job in the band
On the day the conductor was blown.
His doggy enjoys a good bone.
He has similar tastes of his own;
First, it goes in her mouth,
Then he takes it down south
Where his bone enjoys doggy with Joan.
He had found an old dinosaur bone
Of a species completely unknown.
But alas for his name
And his undying fame –
It was plastic, stamped ‘Made in Kowloon’.
(I’m ashamed to say I’ve allowed myself an off-rhyme!)
Irascible vultures are prone
To disputes, and they bicker and moan.
“That one’s mine!” “No, it’s mine!”
They’re all fighting to dine,
And they’re constantly picking a bone.
Playing your trusty trombone
Is a skill one surely can hone.
But I’m really bad at it
So I’ll let my Dad at it
He once played with Wingy Manone.
When we leave to eat out, he’s alone.
Oh he’ll whine and he’ll bark and he’ll moan.
But after our wine,
On return all is fine,
When I bring him a juicy steak bone.
The handsome man from Bayonne
Played the slide trombone
At the cabaret
He got carried away
The flutist’s condition is still unknown
She worked her fingers to the bone
So proud of what she’d sewn
A flawless mask
To enact her task
Of robbing the Savings and Loan
My husband asked me to moan
to increase his testosterone
I tried it out
And began to shout
“Ooooh my aching bone!”
As I was walking home alone
I noticed an unusual bone
I scraped off the tar
And discovered a scar
Good Heavens! It’s Al Capone!
A virtuoso of the trombone
When he played bassoonists did moan
When he extended his slide
He hit their soft hides
So the orchestra became a combat zone
A trumpeter who bought a clone
To play a duet on his own
Was simply beside himself
Gliding the slide himself,
Moaning, “My clone plays trombone.”
A pun should make you groan
And sometimes even bemoan
Since birds of a feather
Tickle together
They’ve yet to find my humerus bone
Jim practiced his trombone
At hours that made neighbors groan
There was a meeting one night
And to everyone’s delight
They designated a “no trombone zone”
By Phyllis Sterling Smith:
Murder’s hard with just a trombone
Hitting over the head like a stone.
So much DNA
Is slobbered away
That the perp cannot help but be known.
From Phyllis Sterling Smith:
Trombonists all need a trombone.
They savor its brass and its tone.
But they do cost a lot,
Prob’ly more than you’ve got.
That’s why we all wish they could clone.
When first he practised his trombone
His parents said ‘you must leave home
That noise is not right
We won’t sleep tonight’
And now he lives all on his own
There’s nothing like a trombone
With its deep symphonic tone
But when my son blows its power
I shake and I cower
And find solace on my trustworthy throne
In Genesis, God used a bone
To make Eve, though she wasn’t a clone.
So much for reliance
On DNA science!
Creationist truth has been shown.
I just brought a brand new trombone
And also a brand new cell phone
Where my priorities lie
You can judge by and by
The bone cost 100 times the new phone
Great care must surely be shown
To wrest a positive groan
In a harmonic scene
From a lover most keen
When working a rusty trombone.
A baseball player oft played trombone
While his spouse sat in the ballroom all alone
“It may be a quirk,
But he’s my little jerk
And it feels good when he slides in at home!”
My stud and I crave time alone.
How he makes me tremble and moan!
Each moment’s fulfilling.
Each movement is thrilling
when my hot guy plays that trombone.
Sue’s not in the bedroom alone,
but hubby’s as cold as a stone.
She begs, “Take this pill?”
He says, “Yes, I will.”
Her man is now bad to the bone.
A guy played a mean jazz trombone,
How he made it sing, made it moan.
He played Dixieland
With a great band;
Was proud to call New Orleans, home!
A guy who, alas, lived alone
Imagined his really hard bone
Getting way deep inside
Of the gal he would ride,
With pleasure, she’d giggle and moan.
(revised)
I just bought a brand new trombone
And also a brand new cell phone
Where my priorities lie
You can judge buy and buy
The bone cost 200 times the new phone
Bob relishes time in his zone.
With bedroom door closed all alone,
he yields to temptation
to end all frustration
when he plays his treasured trombone.
My triplets cry and moan
While my husband plays the trombone
Between babies: count them, THREE!
And “Flight Of The Bumblebee”
My house is a virtual combat zone!
If you march with the ‘bones
and the other good brasses;
You’d best keep your distance —
lest their slides’re up your asses!
He’d always wanted to own
His very own shiny trombone
But now when he plays
for days upon days
He finds himself largely alone
From the JFK great funny bone,
This quip that is fairly well known:
Greatest brains sharing dinners
(All Nobel Prize Winners)
Since Jefferson dined here alone.
She worked her fingers to the bone
So proud of what she had sewn
His favorite hues:
Greens and blues
Perfect to stuff in his big “boccalone”
TO THE BOARD OF REGENTS
You demand explanations be shown
Why I met with my student alone.
Well, her field’s dinosaurs,
So she went through my drawers
‘Til she found my old fossilized bone.
MEMO FROM THE DEFENSE DEPT.
Dear contractor: We have a bone
To pick. We had ordered a drone.
What you sent us in lieu
Is a didgeridu.
Very funny. Come back when you’re grown.
“Your son’s learned to play the trombone,”
Said Her Mom to His Mom on the phone;
“And my daughter’s his trumpet.
She’ll blow, and he’ll pump it
All night, if I leave them alone!”
(Earpiece: sound of a fit being thrown.)
The wifey had started to moan,
“When you’re out every night, I’m alone,
And your mistress gets bed…”
Interrupting, I said,
“Stop your bitching!” and threw her a bone.
Slight change to the original: Great care must surely be shown
To wrest a sensual groan
In a harmonic scene
From a lover most keen
When working a rusty trombone.
Her budget is cut to the bone
And she’s feeling quite lost and alone
Would the Banker re-neg
If she showed him her leg
(When the muscles lack tone) for a loan?
words that you say are breaking my bones
your tongue is sharp and harder than stone
you look like a witch
It’s time that I ditched
you, dear lady and meanest of crones
I often enjoy the trombone
when it is somewhere other than my home
a nice smokey pub
or boiling hottub
or with a pint, when i’m feeling alone.
Just throw this old dog a bone,
so that my sins I may own;
a child still resides within,
whose become deaf to the din,
but in the mirror stands a crone.
Little drummer boy sings
a song of higher trombone
notes.. with lower sounds..
in greater growls.. jawbone
rumbles human phones…
a limerick using “trombone”
was reason to get in the zone
and spark up some pot
yet soon I forgot
which happens a lot when I’m stone
I think I can help with that loan
Of a book re the manly trombone
As my memory fades
Is it how many shades
Of grey ?..well I once would have known.
When you march in parades, be it known
To steer clear of my wife on trombone.
If her wretched tone fouls ya
Or her slide disembowels ya,
You’ll wish for a quick death alone
There was a talent show years ago and one of the segments was a bland looking young man with a trombone. He began just some basic slides and then suddenly, he began playing with much style and dancing while he played. it was an arresting performance and I have never seen such like it since – I watched it on YouTube. Interest choice of words for this limerick off.
A limerick genius, how fun!
My first limerick to be shown
Slowly breaking the finger bone
Words smoke up
Nothing in brain cup
Still I will laugh and never moan….
Ha, ha, ha. This is hilarious. :) I’m a sax girl.
Our librarian took up trombone
Between bookshelves she’d practice her tone
Ms. Zamboni, we say,
Plays tromboni all day,
Never mind signs that read “Quiet Zone”!
A horny young man named Malone
Just purchased a fancy new phone.
For texting – you bet
And for sexting he’ll get
High-quality pics of his bone.
She spent the whole weekend alone;
With no need to answer the phone.
The guy she had met
Was extremely upset
By her laugh at the sight of his bone.
Our orchestra’s lonesome trombone
Used to slide in and out on his own.
Now he’s living in sin
With the first violin
And she fiddles until his bone’s blown.
He was hired to play a trombone
At a socialite club in Bayonne.
His notes were quite mute
But a bulge in his suit
Caused the standing ovation alone.
When Dad gave her a car of her own
Reluctant to leave it alone
She would sleep there and hide in it
Let no one ride in it
Till they were scrubbed to the bone
They speak of a Sherpa whose bone
Resembles a mountain of stone;
They find Himalayan
Their wives ev’ry day, an’
“Won’t he Everest?” they all groan.
(OK, I think it should be Hi-MAH-layan, but that’s nowhere near as funny.)
A fellow who plays the trombone
Can get many a musical moan
By using her south-piece
Instead of a mouthpiece
To gliss her erogenous zone.
I told him: “The ancient trombone
Never dies.” The old man gave a groan.
“It’s true,” said the duffer.
“Instead, we just suffer
From Sack-Butt. Now leave me alone.”
(A sackbut is an ancient trombone.)
Just do it and pick no bones
Not happy to see him all alone
Give him space
At whatever age
It is no fun to let him moan
Hank
My wife said, “Your friend and his bone
Should just leave the ladies alone!”
I felt that her state-
ment would carry more weight
Were she not lying under him, prone.
(This is fiction, of course!)
I saw the x-ray of my bone
It seems that only one leg has grown
Much to my chagrin
I’ve been turned down to do the ballet in:
“Lili’, which starred Leslie Caron
That was really bad: Let me try again!
I saw the x-ray of my bone
It seems that only one leg has grown
Now I can’t do the ballet
My favorite to this day:
“Lili”, starring Leslie Caron
Poor Adam, in Eden alone,
Awoke to a feminine moan.
It was no mistake,
As confirmed by an ache
In his suddenly modified bone.
The dog went to bury his bone
In a clearing where they were alone.
As he raced to a spot,
Over them he did trot;
The result – a big gasp and a moan.
Well, oh, how he loved the trombone.
When he played, he went into a zone.
When he fin’ly came out –
No fam’ly about,
So he went back to playing alone.
He noticed his privates had grown –
Both the size of his balls and his bone.
He tried figid showers,
But after four hours,
He decided to leave it alone.
His wife alternated a groan
Back and forth between that and a moan.
Her friends were so jealous
That he was so zealous
That she lent out both him and his bone.
He soon had no time of his own.
He even considered a clone.
But he went to a doc
Who calmed down his cock,
So that it was more toothpick than bone.
He could then tell his wife by her tone
Had become just a bit os a crone.
He took to hard tippling,
Then borrowed some Kipling,
“She’s a rag, hank of hair, and a bone.”
At first he concluded his bone
Had destroyed the good life he had known.
But though it was small,
And had only one ball,
He at least now could call it his own.
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 216.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Rhyme Pad.