Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: RATE or IRATE 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 “RATE” or “IRATE” 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 fellow was growing irate
On a date with a gal who’d debate
Over politics, food–
What she hates or finds crude.
They agreed on just this: date not great.
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: Battle of the Sexes, Competition Limerick, Date Humor, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
Fred Phelps thought that all should be straight
Homosexuals made him irate
He was so overzealous
Was he secretly jealous?
Why was this man so full of hate?
St John made Salome irate,
And he suffered a terrible fate.
“It’s your own fault”, she said.
“Though I’m sorry you’re dead,
I just love giving head – on a plate.”
The toreador met his fate
On the horns of a bull grown irate.
As he felt himself gutted,
The bull sighed and tutted:
“You KNOW red’s a colour I hate.”
The hooker was said to be great,
But she charged an exorbitant rate.
“Can I get just a wank
Without breaking the bank?”
Her reply caused the guy to deflate.
They had lent at so monstrous a rate
That it couldn’t be paid by the date,
For the interest fee
Was twice GNP,
So the bankers now own the Greek state.
He would eat at a gluttonous rate
As he gobbled up plate after plate.
He was so overloaded
The fellow exploded;
It must have been something he ate.
My girl-friend would certainly rate
As a 10, though her IQ’s not great.
When I asked if she’d swallow
She didn’t quite follow,
And sucked all the food off my plate.
A girl who knows how to fellate
Could be said to be “well worth her weight”
In the purest of gold,
And that, I am told,
Is those Washington whores’ going rate.
A woman was very irate,
She knew that she must concentrate.
Her roused mind would roam
Instead of go, ” ohmm”,
Important that she meditate.
The banks give a low interest rate
See the worth of our dollar deflate.
We’re in debt ’cause of wars
The corporate big scores.
We need change before it’s too late.
A young whore was very irate
At guys who took time to inflate.
Her feelings were cold
And her heart of gold
Was not real but merely gold plate.
Though Oregon visitors rate
Crater Lake as a sight to elate,
It’s the fine pubic curls
Of the naturist girls
That give it the name “Beaver State”.
The teacher of Latin would rate
As a stunner. We went on a date;
I kept pouring the wine,
Which she didn’t decline,
Then she proved that she could conjugate!
(NOTE: I hope that Mad Kane won’t berate
Me for improper scansion. I’ll state,
Before other folks pick up
The metrical hiccup:
Line 5 has a slightly-off gait.)
Greetings Brian, from Bend, OR
It’s a beautiful day to relate
That we live in this great Beaver State.
Full of wonder and awe,
We continue to draw
Californians at a frightening rate.
A hooker who promised to sate
Left her customers rather irate.
They’d arrive hard and willing,
But found her quite chilling.
All she did was berate and deflate.
Said Monica, “Guys overrate
The importance of sex. I shall wait
Till I’m happily wed.”
“Well, no problem”, Bill said,
“It’s not sex if you only fellate.”
Brian Algar, in beaver land mate
A beaver once went on a date
with a beaveress rated first rate
when reaching her dam
she blurted:” oh damn!”
No date ever crosses my gate.
If I were to go on a date
With a fellow, I’d be quite irate
If he left me to wonder
If I’d made a blunder
I’d like to know just where I rate.
Bo Derek will get quite irate
When folks say her beauty’s an eight.
But she misunderstood
That some comments are good,
Like this: that her beauty’s innate.
A woman named Kathryn is great
At cloning. She’s really first rate.
She’s an excellent pro,
Quite an expert, and so
She is called by her friends Dupli-Kate.
The woman heard goose was first rate
At the bistro, supposedly great.
Cook had carelessly plucked
The main course; it was mucked.
She felt down in the mouth when she ate.
At a junkyard there sits a big crate
Filled with retreads that share the same fate.
They all leak, won’t hold air,
So a sign that’s placed there
Reads: The tires all do have a flat rate.
“When I lease an apartment, I hate
To have different amounts,” complained Kate,
“That the lessee will pay
Every month, so I say
What I charge for the rent’s a flat rate.”
I must say I was irate
When I moved to this Midwest state!
In New Jersey they pump your gas
But here you have to move your ass
Well, maybe I’ll lose some weight!
Jan fixed me up with a date
Someone who likes to “rate”
“Ten” is the best
To pass the final test
I received a minus forty-eight
I became very irate
When I was going 98
Another driver passed
And was completely aghast
To see my “fickle finger of fate”
A gentleman who I would rate
With class you cannot equate
He pulled out my chair
Not once did he swear
And asked, “Shall we interrelate?”
He was speeding – a rather high rate.
The cop said “More funds for the state…”
A chase then ensued
That was not very shrewd;
Bald tires can quickly deflate.
Oregon’s a gas-pumping state;
With service that’s always first-rate.
If ever they may
Try to take it away,
A huge, pissed-off mob they’ll create.
The reason Mad’s page is so great
Are progressive, sharp lim’ricks- Y’all rate!
I’m from Kansas, you see,
Land of Koch and of Tea
Party a-holes who’ve ruined our state.
Revision
I must say I was irate
When I moved to a Midwest state
In Jersey they pump your gas
Here, you must move your ass
Well, maybe I’ll lose some weight
“CHICAGO”
The Blackhawks fans are just great
Their team is surely first-rate
On the “Magnificent Mile”
Everyone dresses in style
But have the Cubs ever made it to home plate?
Sharon is a friend who’s first-rate
But she can’t get anything straight
I waited an hour
At the Sears Tower
But she went to “Barrel and Crate”
“Chicago”
The people here are great
It’s a town that’s surely first rate
I’ve learned to say “pop”
And “beauty shop”
It’s just time to assimilate
Revision for a better meter
Chicago
The Blackhawks fans are just great
Their team is surely first-rate
On the Magnificent Mile
Everyone dresses in style
But the Cubs can’t get to home plate
Their encounter was not all that great;
His damn thing just wouldn’t get straight.
The challenge was tall;
She gave it her all,
Then charged him the half-woody rate.
taking out one word: Chicago
The people here are great
It’s a town that’s surely first-rate
I’ve learned to say “pop”
And “beauty shop”
It’s TIME TO ASSIMILATE!
They’re out on a match.com date;
Both wondering how it will rate.
His response to her art
Was defaced by a fart
As the waiter bent over a plate.
Our editions are due on the date
Of July 25th; I can’t wait
If I win, I will dial
Up my thousand-watt smile
If I don’t win, then I’ll be irate.
People nowadays, they procreate
At a near-unsustainable rate
Overpopulation’s
A scourge of our nations
Will our consummations abate?
A guy found a lady first-rate
So he asked if she’d go on a date.
But she snapped, “You chew gum
And it makes you look dumb!”
So he’ll stay home and just mast…icate.
A fellow is out with his date
He says his dick’s length numbers eight
But he means centimeters
So she gleans from his peter’s
Tiny size that he lies; she’s irate.
She charged a ridiculous rate
For services way less than great.
But he remained mum
Reimbursing the sum;
The Congressman’s nocturnal fate.
I love my sightless mate
He’s always been first rate
He hates the word blind
And will always remind
Me we met on a “hard of hearing date”
POLITICIAN IN HELL
She charged an extravagant rate
For someone who’s so overweight
She got on top
I heard something pop
And now I’m Lying In State
(Revision)
When she dumped me, my ex grew irate
but managed to recriminate—
a gasp with each spasm
in one angry orgasm—
“you-came-way-too-soon-now-too-late!”
Trump’s comments make people irate,
Though he claims to be telling it straight.
The man’s ego’s outsize,
Yet his poll numbers rise.
We’ll be seeing him in the debate.
REVISION
I love my sightless mate
He’s a man who is really first rate
He hates the word blind
And will always remind
Me that we met on ” hard to hear” date
correction : that we met on A hard to hear date
sorry!
When trying to rhyme with rate
You can ponder till your pupils dilate
But you MUST get it right
Even late at night
Because that’s the way you CREATE!
There’s an app that allows you to rate
all your friends from abysmal to great,
and it lets you, if curious,
check your score and be furious.
Yes, the name of the app is iRate.
Oh, Internet comments! Too late
I regret all the heat of my hate.
Won’t you kindly look past
All the blistering blast
Of that rot that I write while irate?
OVERHEARD AT THE GOP
“It’s quaint that the Left is irate
At our plans to take over the State.
Who cares that we’re fixin’
To out-Nixon Nixon?
It’s all Water under the Gate.”
FLASH-FORWARD TO 2016
The field at the Fox-led debate
Grew increasingly loud and irate.
Their true nature came out
When they started to shout:
“EX-TER-MI-NATE! EX-TER-MI-NATE!”
SAY THIS 3 TIMES FAST
Said Irene to Eileen, “Am I late?”
Said Eileen to Irene, “I’m irate!
I lean in the lane
All alone in the rain —
Oh what wicked wet weather to wait!”
Donald Trump, at the Heavenly Gate
(Where Saint Peter had asked why he’d rate
An entrance therein),
Said, “If Pride is a sin,
Then it’s God’s fault he made me so great!”
Last night I was so irate
I know it was something I ate
First I fainted
Since the food was tainted
I should’ve had the fish, not the bait
Most of us are quite irate
Sixteen men for a candidate!
It’s enough for a ball team
So let them blow off steam
With two umpires to fish or cut bait
The Trumpster’s not gonna wait
Selecting the best running mate.
“It must be a pal,
That cute Palin gal;
The rest of those losers don’t rate.”
A mathematician would rate
Those colleagues he wanted to date.
If analysis said
He could take one to bed,
Just when he would then calculate.
A mistress grew very irate;
Her lover was chronically late.
One night, he would find
Her gift left behind:
A patient, inflatable mate.
When Trump gets into the debate,
The others can reciprocate
His insults and jeers;
Then watch as he gears
His mouth into accelerate.
I’m hoping to finally sate
My sex drive before it’s too late
All the dollars I’ve paid
To those whores to get laid
Have my wife acting very irate.
When we last bared our bodies to mate
Can’t remember just how it did rate
But my wife blew her chance
To keep hot our romance
If she’d blown something else, I’d be great!
The cook arrived early, stayed late,
But his output was only third-rate.
When told to get better
He said, “I’ve a fetter;
You’ve put way too much on my plate!”
There is a young woman named Kate
With looks far beyond second-rate
But she thinks it immoral
To do the deed ‘oral’
So hasn’t had one second date.
I spend my days using my pate
To determine when folks will be ‘late’
I’m not adversarial
My job’s actuarial
You see, at Prudential, I rate.
My husband Fred makes me so irate
When he says I need to lose weight
So I go on a diet
Then he says on the quiet
“You look malnourished, dear, Kate”
The climate deniers won’t rate
Real science, regardless of weight.
With delusional ark
So rigid and stark,
They should sit on an iceberg and wait.
The Vatican’s PR’s first-rate
Though on child abuse, they’re not so great
Priests continue to grope
Unopposed by the pope
It’s a problem to pontiff-icate
The scandal survives to this date
They’ve done nothing to make it abate
With all their preachings
And arrogant teachings
Their hypocrisy makes me irate.
The whore has a really good rate
And a sex drive you simply can’t sate
Trouser snake, just to hook us
She will take in her tuchus
Her debauchery none can debate.
I’ve accepted my ultimate fate
When I die, those I know may then rate
My life based on its merits
And I will not care. It’s
impossible when in that state.
There was once a young lady named Kate
But her usual state was irate.
Then Petru-chyo arrived
And Kate’s rage was short-lived
For he tamed her to be his sweet mate.
There once was a man named Nate
Who without fail, was always irate
He complained all day
Drove his friends away
Till he found the key to the prison gate
As teenagers we all would rate
How far we should go on a date.
And though a home run
Topped the measure of fun,
Second-basers were better to mate.
Dear mom claimed we always were late
Which made her extremely irate
She said come at five
We had toast with pepper and chive
And the rest of the guests came at eight
I was very upset and irate
When I tried to get my hair “straight”
I used formaldehyde
Which only amplified
My hysterical and frenzied state!
Michelle, when her man wants to mate
Pumps out people with prodigious rate
And her son, one Josh Duggar
His sisters he’d bugger
My disgust at this just ends in hate.
sigh…these fraudulent f***ing fundies make my blood boil…
The iamb derides it “ornate.”
The spondee piles on with “third-rate.”
And even the trochee
pooh-poohs “so Kentucky,”
as the anapest taunts them with gait.
The cannibal king was irate.
Some guests had arrived much too late.
“Though I may be a sinner,
I can’t have them for dinner.
I have simply too much on my plate.”
He was proud that he carried the weight
Of privates quite large and ornate.
He observed, “Inter alia,
I’ve got great genitalia.
Out of ten, it’s eleven I rate.”
He practiced at pleasing his date
In front of a mirror – a slow rate,
But he went on ahead.
Her response on the bed –
“I’m afraid it’s too little, too late.”
He had to believe it was fate
To have such a wonderful mate.
Her action below
Continued to grow
At a truly astonishing rate.
The pirate bumped into the mate,
And gyrating, fumbled his plate —
Thus dumping his supper
Straight out of the scupper.
Oh my! Was that pirate irate!
Behold my inflatable mate:
her buttocks are truly first-rate!
I think that I must
release all my lust
before I begin to deflate.
“Cheating Spouses” web site makes me irate
“Mr. Handsome” was quite overweight
He needed the Heimlich
But since he was so thick
He died yelling, “Don’t tell my mate!”
This, I think is the perfect meter for my “Chicago” limerick
The Blackhawks fans are just great
Their team is surely first-rate
On the Magnificent Mile
Everyone dresses in style
But the Cubs still can’t find home plate!
How we mate, should we leave it to fate,
Or have science improve who we date?
If you find them online,
It might work out just fine,
But be sure to review how they rate.
A fisherman grew quite irate
The fish were not taking the bait
His hook had a worm
That just wouldn’t squirm
Didn’t want to be something fish ate.
A fellow who found a nice date
Believed that this girl was first rate
‘Twas love at first sight
Her jeans were skintight
He thought he had found his soulmate.
If all of the food on your plate
Is tasteless and makes you irate
Then don’t be a fool
Attend cooking school
Then all your meals will taste great!
If you’ve got a terrible mate
Who’s temperament is third rate
Don’t argue, don’t grieve
Just pack up and leave
Your new peace of mind will feel great!
My birthday is why I’m irate
No reason to just celebrate
My body gets older
My bowels get bolder
My hearing and sight ain’t that great.
If someone that you somewhat hate
Is making you somewhat irate
Don’t get mad – get even
And you’ll be believin’
A prank really can compensate.
A king who would soon abdicate
Would rather play ’round than be great
His mother the Queen
Was not very keen
On his foolishness – she was irate!
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 223.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Rhyme June or Jejune.