Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: DASH 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 “DASH” 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:
Be forewarned that it’s reckless and rash
To run around flaunting your cash.
And if miscreants spot
All the money you’ve got,
I sure hope that you’ve mastered the dash.
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: Competition Limerick, Criminals, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Money Verse, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
I placed first in the hundred-yard dash.
(Left the slow-pokes behind with panache.)
But my joy evanesced
When I found out the best
Received praise, but not one cent of cash.
By the goal posts she waved from her Nash
I thought, “Great! Gonna get me some gash!”
I arrived, loins on fire
But ’twas just a flat tire
What a waste of a hundred yard dash.
A dad gave his teen son a lash
Also grounded him, cut off his cash
Kid had cleaned the wet spot
Tossed the condoms he’d bought
But had missed her footprints on pop’s dash.
On the top of my head is a gash
Where my hair disappeared in a flash.
Hair falls out in a race
Up away from my face.
To us men, it is called balderdash.
To a cheesy flick billed “Slash ‘n’ Gash”
I’m the least likely person to dash.
I don’t mind films with blood
If they’re top-notch, not crud…
Think of classics like “Psycho” or “M*A*S*H”.
The man would appear in a flash
And across any venue, would dash
People thought him unique
And they called him “The Streak”
But with Ethel, he sure made a splash.
He thought that he cut quite a dash;
He was famous, had oodles of cash.
But his tie was bright red,
While the hair on his head
Was bright orange, a horrible clash.
The vampire had been rather rash,
And he’d thrown the girls out with the trash.
When the villagers came
To put paid to his game,
“Excuse me”, he said, “I must –”
She was sprawled with her feet on the dash,
And the couple were starting to thrash.
They’d forgotten the brake,
Ended up in the lake –
In the papers, they made quite a splash.
Said the hooker, “I fear I must dash
All your hopes if you’re thinking to splash
In my mouth, or to screw
In the other place, too …
Unless you can pay extra cash.”
Said the Duke of Northampton: “Oh, dash!
I have come out without any cash.
Can I write you a cheque?”
And the hooker said “Heck!
You’re my first Duke – I’ll give it a bash.”
The criminal made a mad dash
With an undisclosed sum of bank cash
But as a robber he flops,
He ran into the cops,
And was quickly relieved of his stash!
A scoundrel, both handsome and brash
Could bed a girl, quick as a flash.
He’d charm and seduce,
Then with rotten excuse
Disappear from her life in a dash!
Some think Trump is so handsome and brash
But with all his wealth, he’s still white trash
A bigoted fool
He’s uninformed and uncool,
He’s nothing but slick balder- dash.
Get some Yukon potatoes to mash,
Olive oil, and some garlic to smash.
Steam potatoes, combine.
It will taste just divine;
Salt to taste, and black pepper, a dash.
The guy saw them and made a wild dash,
He was smitten by hot Times Square trash.
The desnudas attracted,
He over-reacted.
The pimps brought him down in a flash.
Lines 1,2 and 5 must rhyme with dash
so how can line 3 and 4 not clash
or be anything worthwhile
when they’re only going to beguile
and lead the rhythm and meter to crash.
My true, fervent hopes, never dash,
My amorous dreams never smash,
Such care I enjoy
Oh, please don’t destroy.
Oh, don’t let my heart ever crash.
Poor Dorothy, youthful and rash,
Took a lover with plenty of cash.
But re-Morse she soon showed
For this breach of her Code;
“I’m sorry,” cried Dot, “I must Dash!”
Now add angostura — a dash;
A soupçon. A mere smidgen. A splash.
A jot. A wee little…
No, NO! Not a *tittle*!
(Good God — throw it all in the trash…)
Through big bolts of fabric they’ll slash,
Then the needle they’ll wield with panache.
They’ll sew ’til it hurts
Making fine tailored shirts…
It’s the Men’s 50-Yard HaberDash.
Though Jack Warner was brilliant with cash,
He could turn rare first names into hash.
When his firm engaged Hammett
He blanched and said, “Damn it —
“D’you mind if I just call you ‘Dash’?”
(Re the above: Dashiell Hammett, author of the novels “The Maltese Falcon” and “The Thin Man” [among others], wrote the screenplays for three Warner Bros. releases: “After the Thin Man”, “Shadow of the Thin Man” and “Watch on the Rhine”.)
Exclamation point has some panache,
While the question mark’s not very brash.
The ellipsis had dropped
While the period stopped
And the hyphen said “I’ve got to dash.”
She wore all her clothes with panache
And kept all her gold in a stash
But when some cool dude
Was out to be rude
She’d start flashing: “Dot Dot Dot Dash Dash…”
Though the cop won’t do anything rash
With a camera stuck to his dash,
Later on he might well
Find you dead in your cell
From an unexplained cranial bash…
The restaurant meal’s a hit smash
But Bonnie’s dear Clyde had no cash
“I do hate to say it
But we just can’t pay it
Let’s pull the old trick – dine and dash!”
Pedestrians got struck in a crash
The driver sped on, made a dash
His tires, they spun
That old hit and run
Hit a tree, broke his spine, got whiplash.
Potatoes are so fun to mash
Add butter, some salt – just a dash
But silly old Davy
Just drowns it in gravy
Which covers his beard and moustache.
The garbage truck’s here – make a dash!
Forgot to take out the darn trash?
Start running there, Hubby
As you’re a bit chubby
Then you’ll lose some weight in a flash.
The runaway bride made a dash
And left the groom hung by his sash
While hung from the ceiling
The old bride was feeling
Another oncoming hot flash.
A mountain that’s got diaper rash
About to spew volcanic ash
With lava a-flowing
Means get the hell going
Get far and away – make a dash!
The data breach surely will dash
The plans of that cheating site, “Ash-
ley Madison”. Though
They’ve a new site, you know:
“OSCAR Madison — knee-deep in trash!”
(“Feed Your ‘Unger…”)
Take the potatoes and give them a mash.
Get the salt and use only a dash.
Now, pour in the milk,
Make certain it’s silk,
And don’t put in, but put out the trash.
Like obscure Baroque? Listen, sehr rasch,
To some music by Johann F. Fasch.
You could get (Mad Kane’s game
Permits mangling his name)
A recording by Celibidache.
A furious patient said ‘Dash!
Exodontists have taken my cash;
The dental extraction
Deprived me of action,
It left me with no teeth to gnash.’
(The controversial Romanian conductor Sergiu Celibidache’s name is properly pronounced “Tcheh – leh – bee – DAHK – eh”, but has been subjected to all manner of pronunciations over the years. All’s fair in a limerick war.)
My old man got quite stoned on hash
Then totalled the car in a crash
Got banged up in gaol
Due to driving test fail
And complained “Is my bong gone? Oh dash!”
He was lustful, decided to dash
Off to find an amour – she was trash;
She performed in his closet,
Received his deposit,
Then scarpered with all of his cash.
Pronunciations (for Adam Stern and other serious music fans):
Vaughan Williams’ first name it was Ralph,
But how he pronounced makes me chalph.
For he dropped out the “L”
Spoke the “A” long as well,
So say it as “Rafe” to be salph.
An English composer wrote well,
But some critics don’t think him so swell.
They slam him, what’s worse’ll
Pronounce his name PURS-ell,
Most likely he said it “pur-SELL.”
A fellow who went for a crash-
course in code displayed little panache,
He failed in his quest
When he couldn’t spell ‘breast’
And settled for dash, dot-dot, dash.
The Mexicans, hoping to dash
All our hopes, caused this stock market crash!
Their designs we must fear!
It’s been ever so clear
Since I got into Donald Trump’s stash.
I hate ending lines with a dash
Not thinking them out is so rash
Semicolons make me squirm
A tilda’s just a worm
But the thought’s incomplete, so I –
Mr. Graham: My thanks for your stash
Of composer-name limericks. Dash,
Though, I must any as-
Inine thoughts I like class-
Ical only: I love Johnny Cash!
Oh how my lover has such panache
He makes all the others look like trash
We heard a door creak
I said “quietly sneak”
There’s the door; now quick, go DASH!
On a note pad I quickly did dash
A note to hubby to bring home some cash
He asked, “What is it for?”
I said, “a new home decor”
It didn’t go over like a ginormous splash.
Variations on “Celibidache”
— or —
Phil Speed A-Stern: It Sergiu Right
(for Adam and Phil)
On eBay one time, I got lucky:
Bought a porcelain duck from Kentucky!
But the pain in my pants is,
Reduced circumstances
Have forced me to… sell eBay ducky.
He attempted in love to instruct himself,
But he didn’t know how to conduct himself.
Advances he’ll make
From his celibate ache…
(But the girls say they’d rather he fucked himself).
Aki’s stint as conductor was rocky.
Through it all, though, he tried to stay cocky.
Said he, “It’s all right…
The musicians don’t bite!”
Which was true — ’til the celli bit Aki.
MORE PRONUNCIATION
John Dunstable asked for a copy
Of his work from a scribe — who was sloppy,
And who wrote on the label:
“BY JOHN D. UNSTABLE”,
Which made the composer get stroppy.
(All out of competition, naturally.)
There once was a con man, quite brash
We’d invest in his ventures, he’d dash
For he found all his fame
Living up to his name
When he Madoff with all of our cash.
To the resources kept in my cache
Of books, I ran off in a dash,
Grabbed “The Knowledge of Ages”
And thumbed through its pages–
Turned “Water” to “Wine” in a flash…
Will, here’s another one that’s ‘hors concours’:
Thomas Tallis was rather deterred
When they told him his piece was absurd.
“Though it’s written with craft,
Your motet is quite daft –
Forty voices?” They gave him the Byrd.
(Tallis’s motet ‘Spem in alium’ is composed in forty parts.)
… and another
A composer called Henry Purcell
Thought an opera for dogs would do well.
He meant to write ‘Fido’;
Instead, he wrote ‘Dido’.
Aeneas, his pup, thought it hell.
For my new-found buddies (and thank you all for your splendid limericks on the subject of British music!):
Edward Elgar, committed to closing
England’s decades-long musical dozing,
Asked himself, “Why this stigma?
It’s such an enigma –”
He stopped short, and started composing.
But returning to Celibidache,
He fell foul of some coppers’ malarkey.
“Seemed to us ’e was black” –
They were racist, alack! –
“So ’e’s locked in a cell, ’e be darky.”
P. S. Phil Graham, I’ve only just spotted your pieces. Very good, especially RVW.
P.P.S. Madeleine, I hope you don’t feel your site has been hijacked!
P.P.P.S. Ooops! I also somehow overlooked Adam – good stuff!
“Malt whisky? Yes, please, a good splash –
A bit more, if you don’t think me brash.
I could drink by the gallon
This splendid Macallan,
But soda? Not even a dash!”
An editor once had a clash
with a writer in love with the dash-
in a period’s place-
or a comma’s set space-
while Ed.’s teeth made a qualified gnash-
I’ve been enjoying the music-related limericks by Adam Stern, Will Laughlin, Phil Graham, and Brian Allgar, even though many don’t use this week’s rhyme word.
And re Brian’s comment: “Madeleine, I hope you don’t feel your site has been hijacked:” As long as most of the limericks here follow the contest rules, I have no problem at all if you sometimes veer off into some limerick repartee about music or other topics.
And of course I have a special weakness for music and literature-related limericks.
So feel free to carry on. :)
My thanks, and a question, Ms. Kane:
You have sanctioned our non-“dash”-ing vein
And not given a paddlin’.
Now — do you say “MADeleine”,
Or is it pronounced “MadeLEINE”?
To make my heart ache, please come dash
To my place at full pace. In a flash,
At the base of this tree,
Wrap your arms around me,
Grasping tightly my flowering ash.
Just a limerick or two I can dash
Off right now, then I’m off in a flash,
The weeks have gone quickly
And I have been sickly,
Burnt out (but no lack of pun ash.)
I’m not stern, Mr. Stern, as you see.
I enjoy all good lim’ricks with glee,
And I’m sad when they’re bad.
Oh and please call me “Mad.”
To go longer, a “paddlin'” rhyme’s key.
Our verses survived Mad Kane’s scrutiny
Though off-topic (she didn’t refute any!).
We respect her too much
To initiate such
A monstrosity as a Kane Mutiny.
In Asgard, when Norse heroes clash,
They settle their feud with a brash
Track and field competition.
Yes, their personal mission
Is to win the well-known Baldur Dash.
With Mad’s imprimatur, I’ll dash
Off these lines as if wanting a sash
To drape o’er my right shoulder
Which reads, “Mr. Bolder”
(I’m speaking of 5-liners brash.)
Told a date, “I will settle your hash,
Pull your pants down, I’ll warm up your gash.”
And, lickety-split,
I then sprinkled her clit
With Tabasco (but only a dash.)
(I felt I should rejoin the contest before posting any more on composers.)
I’ve really enjoyed the musical ripostes from Mssrs. Allgar, Laughlin and Stern! Sticking with Brits…
Edward Elgar chose not to chase fads —
Wrote Romantic-style works by the scads
Though “Enigma Variations”
Gets played in all nations,
Rubes know just that march trod by grads.
The great Englishman, Gustav Holst,
Was known not to brag or to bolst
Found a wife (had to whoop at her,)
Then finished off ‘Jupiter,’
“The Planets” is what I like molst.
By “The Planets” most ev’ryone’s smitten;
The “Enigma” bug’s many folks bitten.
But, oh, what a great ride
Is “The Young Person’s Guide”
Of redoubtable Benjamin Britten!
And then there’s Britten’s “War Requiem,” aka ‘The Dead Person’s Guide to the Orchestra.’
Yet more on British music…
Bliss and Howells are worth your attention;
Gerald Finzi, too, merits a mention.
I don’t care much for Delius —
Too touchy-feely; Us
Anglophiles need SOME abstention.
BUT WE ALWYN IN THE END
I can’t Stanford much more… but I must
Be a part of the Parry and thrust!
Mad should’ve been Searle-y
And cut us off early,
Before we could Tippett and bust!
(Humphrey Searle: British serial composer, wrote the music for the film “The Haunting”)
*****
I see, by the lim’rick he’s written,
By the Britten bug Adam’s been bitten.
A recording by Pears
Is a treat for the ears —
Then you’ll know what they mean by “great Britten”.
*****
NOTHING RHYMES WITH ‘HAVERGAL’
If I say I’m not jealous, I’m lyin’ —
I doubt that it’s even worth tryin’,
When each ditty I dare
To compose must compare
To 32 great ones by Brian!
(Havergal Brian [1876 – 1972] wrote 32 symphonies, most after the age of 80
Brian Allgar, on the other hand, needs no introduction)
*****
J.K. Rowling? I almost forgot her!
For in musical life ‘cross the water
There’s a Potter, quite fond
Of his long, wooden wand —
But the Warlock was *Peter*, not Potter.
(Cipriani Potter [1792 – 1871], British composer and conductor
Peter Warlock [1894-1930], aka Philip Heseltine, British composer and critic)
*****
(I sent this one to Adam the other day, not realizing how long the theme would continue:)
Max the critic, in vicious attacks,
Called the group “Phil-whore-monic”. Wrote Max,
“The reason is this:
They were faking their Bliss,
And they always go flat on their Bax!”
Alford wrote “Colonel Bogey,” not swill
And Art Sullivan’s songs bring a thrill
I’d try one on Handel
But can’t hold a candel
To Adam and Brian and Will.
***************
This man was a Brit for a bit (1901-1914)
Born Aussie, the great Percy Grainger
Sailed to Frankfurt, then London, what dainger!
He needn’t ask pardons
For his “Country Gardens”
‘Cause “Lincolnshire Posy” was strainger.
(But charming!)
OK, one more, and then I promise I’m finished with this Proms concert —
In the tavern, John Taverner’s sunk
In his chair, indisputably drunk.
The composer from Lincoln
Is finished with drinkin’:
His head hits the bar with a thunk.
Fast-forward four hundred years later,
When John’s woken up by a waiter.
He finds, to his shame,
That the ‘r’ in his name
Has been stolen by some wicked traitor!
(John Taverner [1490 – 1545]; John Tavener [1944 – 2013])
Let’s salute herewith Walton, a master,
Whose creations make hearts to beat faster.
His “Façade”, bright and cheery, ‘ll
Charm. “Crown Imperial”
Threatens a concert-hall’s plaster.
Another Aussie ex-pat
Arthur Benjamin’s “Storm Cloud Cantata”
Made Doris Day scream in vibrata
I should mention in passin’
She stopped an assassin
I guess if ya gotta, ya gotta.
“Storm” was the piece being played at Albert Hall in “The Man Who Knew Too Much.”
Our survey is herewith appended:
Gerard Schurmann is most recommended.
His chamber and choral
Works yield rewards aural;
The six “Bacon Studies” are splendid.
Music
Music
Music
Music
@11:44
And Walton’s First Symphony’s proof
That our Adam is speaking the troof.
An additional hazard:
One it’s been ‘Belshazzar’-ed,
That concert hall needs a new roof.
Further to Phil’s last (and even within the bounds of this week’s contest strictures!):
The assassin in question was brash
In assuming the cymbalist’s crash
Would conceal his foul crime,
But Day’s scream forced the slime-
Bag to flee (one might say: Nalder-dash!).
(The would-be assassin in Hitchcock’s 1956 remake of “The Man Who Knew Too Much” was portrayed by Reggie Nalder.)
(I find myself raiding the trash
For a scrap that might help me to dash
Off a decent submission
That’s *in* competition,
Or Mad may well settle my hash.)
(I attempted in vain to attach a few YouTube links to Mr. Schurmann’s compositions, but apparently one cannot do so as part of a submission. Curious readers are directed to explore his “Six Studies of Francis Bacon” and “Vatiants”, for starters.)
Note From Mad Kane: Posts with URLS end up in the spam file automatically. I fished that post out and added HTML code to each of your four links and approved the post. So if you scroll down, you’ll see them now. (I also deleted your duplicate limerick.)
(Adam —
One further remark I’ll be makin’:
That survey was hardly worth takin’.
I’m a sure man indeed
Of my personal creed,
Namely: everything’s better with Bacon.)
Ugh…”Variants”, not “Vatiants.” (Where’s that second cup of coffee?)
My lover, Jon, made a mad dash
He heard a sound; he was gone in a flash
He went out the wrong door
And made a beeline for
Our newly installed pool and made quite a splash
I didn’t know nuthin’ of Schurmann
But I do know that old Bernard Herrmann
Wrote much music for Hitch
With dark leitmotifs which
Told us what characters were the vermin.
My recipe for delicious hash
Meat, potatoes: give it a good mash
A little different for hubby, however
As a cook I must say I’m very clever
A few more spices and arsenic: just a dash
To Mad: Thank you for your kind and responsible stewardship.
To Will:
The “Bacon” remark gave release
To some giggles. Your hammy caprice
Has me pondering that
Which links music and fat…
Think I’ll go play the soundtrack to “Grease.”
I never, ever, use “the dash”
Even though it has panache
I’m quite the scholar
And I work at the funeral parlor
I’ve seen enough of them to give me a RASH!!
CORRECTION
I never ever use the dash
Even though it has panache
I’m quite a scholar
I work at the funeral parlor
I’ve seen enough of them to give me a rash
While working in Denmark, John Dowland
Thought a diet of herrings was foul, and
His craving for beef
Brought a sense of relief
On returning to good English cow-land.
The five-liner form is not rash.
The meter and rhyming don’t clash.
It has rules we adore,
But I might note one more –
A lim’rick can’t end with a –
A spriinter was far from a smash.
His speed was still-life, not a flash.
To win, not in the cards.
He took fifty yards
To finish the forty-yard dash.
“A blowjob? OK”, said the ho,
“You’re my john.” But he told her “No, no!
You have got it all wrong –
What I want is a song,
Not a job, by composer John Blow.”
@Brian
On returning to England, John Dowland
Made high beef consumption his goal, and
That diet (with cheese)
Brought the man to his knees,
Full-stomached, but also full-coloned.
(From evidence such as the title “Semper Dowland, Semper Dolens”, musicologists disagree about the 16th century pronunciation of “Dowland”)
Said the mom,”I’m trying not to dash
Your hopes, but vaccines may be trash.”
The doctor, so kind
Said “Keep open your mind,
And please don’t do anything rash.”
For Calliope, Ares was brash;
“Sex? No time!” Off to war he would dash.
But she finally scored
When she offered a gourd
To Apollo, who gave Cal a bash.
@Will
I once came across an absurd French article claiming that Dowland was actually a French composer whose original name was “Jean Delande”. I can no longer find the article – it was presumably considered so silly that there was no place for it even on the Internet.
I was in such a frantic mad dash
That I fell into a bag of trash
What an adventure
I found my denture
Now I can eat corned beef and hash
A remarkable talent was Tippett’s,
Though a critic was given to quip: “It’s
A thing that annoyed
Me – ‘King Priam’ des-Troyed
By composing the whole thing in snippets.”
(“Criticism focused on its abrasive musical idiom, which entailed breaking up the orchestra into a multiplicity of soloists and ensembles. Not everyone then realised the relevance of this, and its mosaic-like formal structure, to Tippett’s Brechtian handling of the presentation.”)
Most new music? I say, you can chuck it;
So much minimalist mundane muck, it.
I don’t get the commotion
That met “Become Ocean”,
A musical drop-in-the-bucket.
If you want to have a screamingly good time, and don’t know of these already, seek out the online essays on music of Dr. David Wright. His denunciations of Elgar and Britten are a great place to start.
The Donald has cut quite a dash
With “Nutjobs” who follow his trash.
As he preens and bloviates,
Do they really share his hates,
Or are they impressed with his cash.
The minister added a dash
Of sex, although nothing too rash.
“If you liked my uplift,
Please consider a gift.
Contributions are only in cash.”
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 228.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Maze, Maize, Amaze.
There once was a writer from Cheshire
Who was desperate for riches and treasure
Now her brain’s filled with poor rhymes
And badly-behaved lines
And she’s abandoned all hope for some leisure.
When marking children’s English essays, Hallelujahs and loud yodellays!