Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: TRUST 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 TRUST 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:
A woman could no longer trust
Her domestic to vacuum or dust.
Yet she did come in handy;
When hubby was randy,
The maid took good care of his lust.
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!
UPDATE: June 8 is Vacuum Cleaner Day, in honor of Ives W. McGaffey’s June 8, 1869 U.S. patent for the suction vacuum cleaner.
Tags: Competition Limerick, Inventions Humor, Ives W. McGaffey, June Holidays, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Odd Holidays, Patent Humor, Poetry & Prompts, Vacuum Cleaner Day, Writing Prompts
He stuffed her with thrust after thrust
Like a man half-demented with lust,
Then he bound her with string,
Legs and breast, everything,
Till the Thanksgiving turkey was trussed.
My wife and I often discussed
The meaning of mutual trust.
When I caught her in bed
With the neighbour, I said
“Well, I’ve just had his wife, so it’s just.”
In the desert, his engine was bust;
He had nothing to eat but a crust,
And his bottle was dry.
Said the vulture on high,
“We’ll be dining quite shortly, I trust”
She was picnicking topless; her bust
Had no need to be haltered or trussed.
The guy said “Wanna share
This delectable pear?”
When she slapped him, he looked quite nonplussed.
At my Doctor, the topics discussed
Centered mostly on pains. My disgust
And my needs he appeased.
All my worries he eased,
And I left with a new sense of trussed.
The carpenter felt that he must
Teach young newlyweds how to adjust.
“Starting life with your spouse
Is like building a house:
Their foundations and roofs both need trussed.
As I cussed and discussed in disgust
My mistrust with my siblings, we fussed
How the lawyer had still
Not found part of Dad’s will.
My disgust rose from my misplaced trust.
Is there someone whom we can trust;
Not one who’ll leave us in the dust?
Don’t trust politicians;
Their lies by omissions,
They fall prey to corporate lust.
Is there a chef whom I can trust
To make a great, flaky pie crust?
One that isn’t sweet,
Its layers a treat,
This, my timeless quest, my great lust.
A gal made an error to trust
A hot guy who caused her to lust.
He was a creep,
And made her weep,
He left her with hurt and disgust.
Is there a pol whom we can trust
To be true and not be unjust
Who, hope will restore,
Not a corporate whore,
Who makes us withdraw in disgust.
Something I say with disgust.
And you won’t tell on me, I trust.
But Bruce’s big change
to Kaitlyn is strange.
I prefer a big natural bust.
For her, it was all about trust,
And she made it an absolute must.
Sure he tried to stay true,
Till a certain part grew.
In the end, he was driven by lust.
Our money tells us whom to trust,
As our bridges continue to rust.
With the wealthy in power,
Hour by Hour,
This nation is heading for bust.
Creationists view with distrust
Evolutionary theories; they’ve sussed
That those scientist junkies
Who claim we’re from monkeys
Have snorted too much Angel Dust.
“Oh, Goddam!” the old atheist cussed,
“In whom we can clearly not trust,
When I die, I have stated
I must be cremated,
So let’s see you resurrect dust.”
Chez Marquis de Sade is a must
To couple with parry and thrust.
There maidens will tryst
While bound at the wrist,
As long as you’re someone they trussed.
She was strapped to the bed, bound and trussed;
The Police Chief was panting with lust.
But they broke down the door
As he straddled the whore,
Crying “This is a Vice Patrol bust!”
A marriage is based on trust
But if you’re driven with wild carnal lust
You’ll probably cheat
So be very discreet
Don’t come home with your hair all mussed
With his smile and a wink, he gains trust.
Then before you can blink, there is lust.
While dancing the tango,
Or maybe fandango,
You’ll swoon at each sly rhythmic thrust.
The would-be prez will ask your trust,
But his word is worthless as dust.
That charming young bloke
Has been purchased by Koch,
And will do what he’s told he must.
Revision:
A marriage is based upon trust
But if driven with wild carnal lust
You’ll probably cheat
So be very discreet
Don’t come home with your hairdo all mussed
She thought she had his undying trust
But he still wondered about her bust
They didn’t feel real
They felt more like steel
So he got a tetanus shot in case of rust
Their wedding was widely discussed;
To the ocean side they had been bused.
After saying “I do”,
Those nudists came through;
The reception was lively, we trust.
Slam the door as they ask for your trust.
It’s something one earns, that’s a must.
But they’ll flood our TV,
That damn GOP,
As I bury my head in disgust.
If you’re texting while driving, you must
Be wearing a belt you can trust.
Have insurance to call;
And on top of it all,
Be able to pay for the bust.
Every man she’d encountered with lust
Had betrayed her, demolished her trust
So she found a belle chere
And began lez affaire
And left all les hommes in the dust
Appalled when his wife fumed and fussed,
Shocked Arthur asked why she had cussed.
“You are seeing a tart.
Don’t deny it, dear Art.”
“I am, but still I deserve your trust.”
“Milady, I hope you will trust
Me in making amends for my thrust,”
Said the suitor to blame
For his orifice aim.
“Will you grant me the time to adjust?”
I wanted to have her trust
I said I’m not interested in lust
But when I squeezed her ass
The lady took a pass
And looked at me with utter disgust
As fellows grow old, it’s a must
That they need to go slow when they lust
Because if they keep doing
Much athletic screwing
They’ll rupture and have to be trussed.
A ski racer you couldn’t trust
Would consume pork and beans ‘fore he shussed.
And to go a bit faster
He’d use his ass blaster
And gain MPH from each gust.
Just Another Politician, or Maybe Minister
He smiled: Baby, who do you trust?
As if we somehow missed the thrust
Of his message to all.
Oh, he’d gotten the Call
From on High…Dude, you’re just a big bust.
By Some Other Name?
He freely admitted to lust
For the ladies, yet this inspired trust;
A reward for time serving
The people, unswerving
Ly. Call him a saint, if you must…
Whoops, Mad, I left out the rhyme word :( !
Can you alter line 2 to read:
For the ladies, yet this inspired trust;
Thanks!
Note from MBK: Done.
Can You Trump This? (Please Do)
He left some concussed and nonplussed,
Confused by the force of his gust.
Windy Towers, his nickname –
Donald’s “platform”, a big game.
He claims, In the Trump you can trust.
Creeping Myself Out…
Life means decisions: we must
Decide constantly who to trust.
Tonight, should you have sex
With a cowboy called Rex?
He’s a hottie, and you’re filled with lust.
So you smile, drink, and go to his place;
And the next day, of you there’s no trace.
Parents weep, close friends grieve ~
If you’d chosen to leave,
You’d be here now. They’ll miss your sweet face…
Metaphor-nication
Another (Rep? Dem?) bites the dust
On the issue of earned public trust:
Turns out there’s no such thing.
As they prance, strut and sing,
Some – entranced – close eyes, bend for the (thrust) :(
(Traditional + acrostic)
At a moment when racial mistrust
Has built to the point where it must
Be confronted, or break,
Comes the news of a fake:
Ms. Dolezal’s got me nonplussed.
Though her story once seemed like it might
Require me to broaden my sight,
Unfortunate facts
Soon emerged on her acts:
The story’s become Black and White.
(acrostic)
Listen, darling: the girl and I bussed,
Yet that’s all. Dear, believe me — you must!
I never would cheat
Nor betray you, my sweet —
Good relationships thrive upon trust.
Dustbuster Needed
Our coinage reads, In God We Trust;
All others pay cash (if you must).
But pols clamor for more,
Gotta show them the door:
Rusty promises, should be surplussed.
As President, how could we trust
Donald Trump? At the hint of a gust,
His combover goes…
And with that, Heaven knows,
His most credible feature goes bust.
The Ziggy cartoon can be just
His wisdom is simple to trust
But there is a wrinkle
Advice lost its twinkle
As it faded into Ziggy star-dust
Who’s On First?
Inexperienced pols might look flust-
Ered when questioned if they can be trust-
Ed. But heaven knows
Overconfidence grows:
Their opponents, they claim, should be busted.
(Mad, I doubted this was a contender to win so left “ed” in the last line.)
Have a good one! P ~
Oh, good heavens you shouldn’t have fussed
You did bring the condoms, I trust
Now open the window
And just let the wind blow
We’ll fill then with water; they’ll bust
Hastertbation (n) — the act of bungling your own sex scandal, while claiming the moral high ground over your opponents.
Dennis Hastert evaded and fussed,
Losing even the GOP’s trust;
The way that he stalled
Should, in future, be called
“Feel-a-boyster” when it is discussed.
She withdrew from the Savings & Trust
All her cash. It’s not much; now she must
Choose ‘twixt breast augmentation
And a West Coast vacation.
The choice: California or bust.
Revision
Oh good heavens, you shouldn’t have fussed!
You brought the requested condoms, I trust?
Now here’s my order:
Just fill them with water
And let’s see whose head we can plunk down and bust!
It’s an exercise meant to build trust:
He’ll fall — and then catch him I must.
Though 8 times I’ve dropped him,
This hasn’t yet stopped him
(For each time he ends up concussed!).
I bought an inflatable “Girl You Can Trust”
Who provided me with undying lust
Then I smoked a Kent
Up to the ceiling she went
I didn’t know she would combust
Revision:
I sent for an inflatable “Girl You Can Trust”
Who provided me with great undying lust
Then I smoked a Kent
Up to the ceiling she went
I didn’t realize she would instantly combust
A woman could no longer trust
the car she called a bucket of rust
and finally it died
but no body cried
just thanked goodness it did not combust.
(slightly colored by my car breaking down this week)
Today’s massacre in SC was just
a jab in the heart; angry disgust,
as innocents went down to glory,
without finishing their own story;
hoping faith they could trust.
A gentleman thought he could trust
his lady to saving her lust
he thought it was right
to leave her at night
so the handyman did what he must
I wonder in how many households that ritual actually occurs. Almost biblical….
Very clever!
FIFTY SHADES OF GO-AWAY
On Craig’s List, Chris posted his lust
For a tryst with a lass to be trussed.
Alas, though: Chris missed
His delicious truss tryst.
He was tied up at work. How unjust!
Second Revision:
I sent away for “The Girl Men Can Trust”
An inflatable blonde, promising undying lust
Then I lit up a Kent
And up to the ceiling she went
I didn’t know she would instantly combust!
from Phyllis Sterling Smith:
Must limericks all dabble with lust?
I’m sure that we all could adjust
And just keep it clean..
You know what I mean..
With jokes any granny can trust.
Must Trust In Lust
A young boy, who was just very just
With a girl, who was just full of lust
Just zipped up his fly
But, she started to cry
So, he gave her a talk about trust.
A Victorian lady could trust
Her underclothes to insite lust;
Like a whale bone corset
You see, ‘cuz of course it
Pushed belly fat up to her bust
JzB
How does one build trust?
By remembering you always must:
Never question your man
And then make a plan
In case the trust is unjust
He was proud that they showed him the trust
To move David to clean off the dust.
It fell and it shattered.
He cried, bruised and battered,
“I can only say ‘This was a bust’.”
To his math teacher he said, “I trust
That you know this low score isn’t just.”
(The response, it was bad.)
“You have no points to add?
I believe that this leaves me nonplussed.”
The recipient of my passionate lust
Was my History teacher, Miss Rust
I bought her a bust of Caesar
Thinking that would surely please her
But she expelled me with an “F” in “Trust”
Why endeavor to trust
A toter of guns only just
Because they exclaim
“I will never inflame”
Despite a convenient combust.
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 218
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Ball or Bawl.
Oh.. personification.. woManiFicatiOn.. TRUST
a perfecting photo of wifey love is truly must
for me.. Ah.. delightful ways of play in lust
be free.. making now greaTEST PRACTICE…
ART CREATION activities.. longevITy TRUSTS..:)