Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: BUNK or DEBUNK 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(s) as a comment to this post and, if you’re a Facebook user, on Facebook too.
I hope you’ll join me in writing limericks using BUNK or DEBUNK at the end of Line 1 or Line 2 or Line 5. (Homonyms or homophones are fine.)
The best submission will be crowned Limerick-Off Award Winner. (Here’s last week’s Limerick-Off Award Winner.)
Additionally, you may write themed limericks related to BOATING, using any rhyme scheme. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best BOAT-related limerick.
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 winners on September 18, 2016, right before I post the next Limerick-Off. So that gives you two full weeks to submit your clever, polished verse. Your submission deadline is Saturday, September 17, 2016 at 10:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my limerick:
The media’s drowning in junk;
Scams and falsehoods it fails to debunk.
Though we’re succored by Snopes,
We’re still suckered like dopes,
And on hoaxes and dupery drunk.
Please feel free to enter my Limerick-Off by posting your limerick(s) 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, Hoaxes, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Media Humor, Misinformation, Poetry & Prompts, Press Humor, Rumors, Scams, Snopes, Urban Legends, Urban Myths, Writing Prompts
The ship’s captain had tried to debunk
All the reasons why his boat got sunk.
Said it wasn’t a fact
That the ship was attacked,
It was simply a cheap Chinese junk.
A young fellow who staggered home drunk
Tried and tried to climb into his bunk.
But each time he would try,
To the floor he would fly,
And he’d land with a thud and kerplunk!
Wake-Up Call! ~
Sometimes it seems best to debunk,
Whatever it was someone thunk,
But it always proves right
To debunk in the night
Before you get junk in your trunk.
Winken and Blinken, Not Thinkin’ —
Drinkin’ and Clinkin’, ol’ Todd,
Sailed off in a boat very odd,
In a ship in a bottle,
He emptied full-throttle,
Then Toddy when potty in Nod.
Drinking tea on his yacht, Mr. Lee
was as happy as yachtsmen can be.
Asked his wife, amidst bliss,
“Anything that you miss?”
He said, “No, just the sea, you, ‘n’ tea.”
PS
This limerick needs to be read out loud.
Preferably, to an audience.
Preferably, one that is not under age.
Agent Orange is full of bunk:
Tiny-fingered, he claims a big “trunk.”
And his “platform”? Oh my,
I think we’d all die!
And he can’t even claim he was drunk!
——————————————-
There’s something I’d like to debunk:
the GOP’s not in a “funk.”
The Donald, by choice,
is its unfiltered voice.
Vote for someone sane or we’re all sunk!
The Captain was thoroughly drunk,
And was bonking a bird in his bunk.
They were suddenly wet,
But it wasn’t from sweat –
In his absence, the liner had sunk.
She was screwing a randy young monk,
But she found herself ´doing a bunk’.
Though he fucked like a stoat
And he bucked like a goat,
He stank even worse than a skunk.
One night when I was barely drunk,
I sez, “Dear wife, ain’t I a hunk?”
She was astounded,
Said, “You’ve come ungrounded.
I can’t stop laughing at your bunk.”
That chick had lots and lots of spunk,
But would not join me in the bunk.
She said she was proper,
No one got atop her,
And I should go become a monk.
Please excuse the misplaced “bunk”
The sexy, sensuous Mabel
Seduced the actor, Clark Gable.
But once in the bunk,
Said Clark, who was drunk,
“Frankly my dear, I’m not able.”
Though in China they tend to debunk
The myth you can’t sleep in a junk,
Sudden de-bunk is found
If the junk runs aground
When the helmsman on rice wine gets drunk.
The big guy was truly quite drunk
Said his cock’s like an elephant’s trunk.
He was just ignored
His claim not explored,
None laughed or said he’s full of bunk.
Don’t care ’bout the size of Trump’s junk
Just sick of how low he has sunk
His words are all slander
He’ll gush and he’ll pander.
He just spews malevolent bunk.
It’s crucial that we all debunk
The bullshit that is Donald Trump.
It won’t take a wiz
To show what he is:
A cruel and despicable punk.
A guy was depressed, in a funk
About the small size of his junk.
He should be aware,
Most gals just don’t care..
Another dumb myth to debunk.
Therese Raquin/lover not gloating,
They murdered her husband while boating.
They made sure he drowned,
Self-hatred they found.
Their consciences got them- worth noting.
Renoir’s “Boating Party” is fun,
Lots of flirting and wine, shade and sun,
Along the Seine River
With seductive quiver,
The Luncheon’s banter’s just begun.
In yachting there’s a rule you always ought
To give way if you are found to be on port,
So, to beat the starboard guys,
Ale and hearty would be wise,
Or at least a wine of quite a different sort.
He collapsed in the hold on his bunk.
The words in his mind, “Who’d-a thunk,
That my new boat’s beachhead
Is a dry riverbed.
So, I slunk here to sleep a drunk funk!”
He Can Float My Boat Anytime ~
He was ship-shape and too large to squeeze,
But his rudder was where it would please.
He was decked but erect,
So his mast could connect
With the ports to the Nort’s of her knees.
Despicable Donald will boast
He’s the best; the others are toast.
In nautical terms,
He quickly confirms
His dinghy has traveled the most.
In boot camp, they give you a bunk
And you keep all your stuff in a trunk.
Fine styling you’ll lack
With the clothes on your back;
Sartorial options have shrunk.
Tried and tried to rhyme something with “bunk,”
But my efforts, quite frankly, all stunk.
I tried word after word,
Some that you’ve never heard,
But they all made a real loud KERPLUNK!
On vacation, we’re caught in a funk;
Our Airbnb place is junk.
On a faraway isle,
We’re told with a smile:
“You both have to sleep in de bunk.”
Late last night I got rip roaring drunk,
Staggered home and climbed into my bunk.
But then I hurt my my head
On the foot of the bed.
Might be time for me to be a monk.
While launching his boat with a Hummer,
He struts like he’s King of the Summer.
Now ready to go,
The Speedo will show
His love life must be a real bummer.
Some people can buy a big yacht;
While others must sleep on a cot.
What matters the most
Isn’t something to boast;
But rather, it’s what you cannot.
If your lover turns into a skunk
Who cannot perform when he’s drunk,
Which is six nights a week,
Then you shouldn’t be meek.
Stop the lying. Face facts and de-bunk.
The prisoner was in a blue funk;
He was sharing a cell and a bunk
With a kind of gorilla
The size of Godzilla …
The prison door closed with a clunk.
Said the Donald, “I gotta debunk
Them rumours that say that I’ve shrunk.
It’s all Democrat lies –
I am still ’bout the size
Of a fully-grown elephant’s trunk.”
On the yacht of her host, quite a hunk,
The bimbo inspected the bunk.
When she asked “Top or bottom?”
He grinned. “Once I’ve got ’em,
It’s both”, and she knew she was sunk.
“Evolutionary theory is bunk”,
The creationist said. “A slam-dunk!
Guys with chastity vows
And no mistress or spouse?
There’s no way we evolved from a monk.”
“I think that I thought that I thunk,”
Said Descartes, “but perhaps it was bunk.
If I am when I think,
What occurs when I drink?
Well, I think that I therefore am drunk.”
Said Monica, “Really, it’s bunk
That my dress is still covered in gunk,
For I went to great pains
To get rid of the stains –
The President sure had some spunk.”
This avant-garde music is bunk.
Just a plink and a plonk and a plunk,
Then a screech and a groan,
Then a crash and a moan –
As food for the soul, it is junk.
Said the Mafia boss, “Listen, punk –
All them stories ya heard are just bunk.
Forget concrete dresses
And acid-bath messes,
Just carry this stiff to the trunk.”
Inviting All Tourists to my Town!
On Pittsburgh’s three rivers, you oughta
Join in the fun with a lotta
Folks who love races–
Just look at their faces!
In summer, you’ve gotta Regatta.
There once was a horny young monk
Who was gifted with sizable junk
He’d no love for religion
Not even a smidgen
But boinked with the boys in their bunk.
Seattle is known for its rain;
But tons of attractions remain.
Make the most of your trek
From a ferryboat deck;
‘Cause traffic will drive you insane.
At a rowing regatta, we stroked
While the coxswain’s yells prodded and poked.
“Power ten!” she did shriek;
When I ventured a peek,
A wake told me we had been smoked.
In Berlin, I went out and got drunk
And I met a cute girl full of spunk
How I wished it was mine
But to that, she said “Nein!”
I could not get her back to my bunk.
He was always heard talking bunk,
Full of gossip, the guy’s such a punk,
The slanderous words he would utter
Were only fit for the gutter,
He was a spiteful, malicious quidnunc…
**********************
With no lighting in his Ark
Noah would seek a bright spark,
So over 40 nights
He lived without lights,
Leaving the fireflies to glow in the dark…
Thanks for the prompt again!
I broke the rules this week. I didn’t do a limerick, but I did a rhymed and metered poem and used your rhyme keyword.
It’s here:
Hurry Up and Weight
(Boating + two well-known characters)
There was an old man from Calcutta
Who moulded a boat out of butter.
A girl from Nantucket
Said “Please may I suck it?”
The thought set the old man a-flutter.
There once was a camper named Munk ,
Who had some magnificent junk,
No not stuck on pegs,
But between her two legs,
And the boys all line up by her bunk.
Her sailboat sunk in the sea,
But rescued by sailors was she,
She kicked off her shoes,
And turned on the news,
And there was her butt on TV.
I love your blog! I just wanted to let you know that we featured you in a list of 100 best Humor blogs. You can find our article at the following link:
100 Best Humor Blogs
We would appreciate it if you shared this with your readers, followers and fans.
Like falling down from the top bunk,
And hitting your head with a clunk
Would be the election
Of the GOP-Guys’ selection–
A wild man loose, who’da thunk?
In the novel I’m reading, a hunk
Has a girlfriend who fondles his junk.
When they started to pet
I broke out in a sweat.
Now excuse me. I’ll be in my bunk.
A guy who considered himself quite a spunk
Had lured a young lass to his bunk.
But when he presented his staff
She just pointed and laughed,
And like his ego, it deflated and shrunk.
In a campaign that’s nothing but junk,
Despicable Donald has sunk
Our stature worldwide;
We cannot abide
Both Putin and Kim in his bunk.
There once was a guy with a skunk
In a box, at the end of his bunk.
The relationship was odd—
The skunk thought him a god
And worshipped at his feet, which stunk.
About boating I haven’t a clue.
What do fo’c’s’les and mizzen masts do?
Tell me why the main bounds
And on what the surf pounds.
And just why on a head would you poo?
James Brown was the master of funk;
Michael Jordan, his magical dunk.
Donald Trump staked a claim
For Liar’s Club fame
Matt Lauer had failed to debunk.
Harvey, Tim and Big Jake
Were fishing one day on a lake.
Three skiers blew past,
All blonde and bare-assed;
Said Harvey: “Four real and…two fake.”
Bippety boppety bunk
My fairy godmother’s a drunk
Now with booze on her breath
That will sure mark the death
Of my dream to meet Prince Charming Hunk.
My luck to find romance has shrunk
You could say her wand’s powers just stunk
End result’s not alarming;
Instead of Prince Charming —
A monk who likes farming with spunk.
Now a donut is something you dunk
And a slow nut is something that slunk
If a hoe nut’s a hunk
Who can’t jack up his junk
Then a beau nut is nothing but bunk.
A student who thought school was bunk
Would show up as drunk as a skunk
He’d sleep during class
And he’d snore and pass gas
That’s a lesson in how you can flunk.
A naked lad drunk as a skunk,
Delivered his rants of pure bunk,
At the neighborhood whore,
But then hollered and swore
When she laughed at his ‘Junk’, as it shrunk..
They chartered a boat to Key West;
The occasion was Fantasy Fest.
In a bar on Duval,
They showed one and all
How they’re anatomically blessed.
An Idealic Voyage
Warm winds from the South briskly blew
O’er the waves the small ship fairly flew
Red sunsets at night
Were the sailor’s delight
And the Captain poured rum for the crew.
He gave scullers a recommendation
That they ought to use synchronization
To improve their boat’s speed
Because what rowers need
Is a lot of co-oar-dination.
On a sailboat, they laid in the sun;
Uncovered young lovers as one.
But later they’d learn
Some parts quickly burn;
Hot-dogging while toasting a bun.
Politifact’s there to debunk
Campaigners who spew lots of junk.
If they ranked claims by scent,
For Trump’s they’d invent
A rating beyond mega-skunk.
Sweep rowing is starboard or port;
Doing both, in a scull you’ll cavort.
Single, double or quad;
If this strikes you odd,
Then kayaking might be your sport.
I’d like to put Trump on a boat
Far out on the ocean he’d float
No motor, no oars
And no sails (use your drawers)
So enjoy the outdoors, you old goat!
And no cell phone to call out for help
He can cry all he wants, even yelp
Well okay, give that fraud
A nice big fishing rod
But he’ll never catch cod, only kelp!
Frances sailed in her catamaran
With a hunk of a lover named Dan.
She said, “Put up the mast.
I’ll make sure it will last.”
From the first, that was always Fran’s plan.
The captain had way too much grog;
He started to bark like a dog.
His crew was aghast,
Saw him humping the mast;
“Keeled over” showed up in the log.
The Donald’s all bluster and gloat;
Presidential? Not even remote.
Clear logic runs south
When he opens his mouth;
He’s selling a boat that won’t float.
If you’re drunk as a skunk on a bunk
‘Cause your winky got dinky and sunk,
Then maybe you’re stuck;
You’ve run out of luck
When your junk has just slunk in a funk.
The career of the captain was sunk
When, while steering his vessel while drunk,
On a fine summer’s night
He turned fast but too tight,
Causing all those aboard to debunk.
There once was a man from Podunk,
who slept with a skunk in his bunk.
He smelled pretty bad,
and the skunk was quite sad,
so he left home to become a monk.
I’m a hunk in a funk when I’m drunk
Who’da thunk it? My junk, it has shrunk
It won’t even unfurl
So I can’t get a girl
Now I’m sunk – can’t spelunk in my bunk.
This one’s not mine, so it’s ineligible, but I thought you folks may enjoy it. It inspired my above entry, and you’ll see why:
A punk who was drunk stole a skunk
From the junk in the trunk of a monk.
He was soon in bad odor,
So he rightly bestowed her
On the monk in a funk, whom she stunk.
I guess it wouldn’t have been anyway, as it doesn’t have the week’s word in it. But it’s still fun.
On a glorious tropical day,
They sailed into Orient Bay.
With its long naked beach
Now well within reach,
A dinghy ride lengthened their stay.
The Donald is quick to debunk
His malodorous yearnings have shrunk.
He blabbers and yaks
Unbridled attacks
That carry the scent of a skunk.
There once was a man who was manic
He captained the vessel “Titanic”
When an iceberg he’d clip
He would shout “Holey ship!”
And the passengers fled in a panic.
A paddle board built to deliver
Stability started to quiver.
His balance did shift,
The blade wouldn’t lift;
He then became one with the river.
As his wife bitched all day on the ark
That poor Noah got tired of her bark
Well, she soon became quiet
But tried to defy it
Right into the jaws of a shark.
On his mistress, the captain was doting
And took her along for some boating
But his mad wife saw red
When she caught them in bed
And soon there were two bodies floating.
Canoes I just hate with a passion
They tip, I fall out, I’m left thrashin’
The worst part of it —
I can’t swim worth a shit
And I really don’t care much for splashin’.
Last evening I lay on my bunk
Quite tired and also quite drunk
As I pondered and mused
I became quite confused
What was I? A nun or a monk?
A player too dinky to dunk,
Has talent less slinky – more slunk.
An immature lad,
The coach is his dad;
That he still gets his “binky” is bunk.
For a wedding, the yachtsman in charge
Saw the families were massively large.
He questioned his boat
Could keep them afloat;
So they ended up renting a barge.
I took an Alaskan ship cruise
Where passengers drank too much booze
So stupid, so boring
They ended up snoring
With crew members starting to snooze.
I complained, but then no one was sober
I walked the ship’s hallways to probe her
To see if I’d find
Someone with a sound mind
But no luck, and we’re nearing October.
I finally went to the captain
His bunk I had found which he napped in
I’d yell and I’d shake him
But just could not wake him
What a crazy milieu I was trapped in.
It was one floating zombie-filled city
Where folks’ mental powers were gritty
I was filled with a gloom
Of an impending doom
But there wasn’t much room for self-pity.
Then suddenly there was a crash
I rushed to the deck in a flash
We made contact with one
Giant iceberg. We’re done!
And I saw that the bow had a gash.
I stared and I stammered, “Good lord!”
As some polar bears stumbled aboard
They looked starving and thin
But they knew they were in
For a smorgasbord win which they scored.
I see deja vu scenes of Titanic
With the bears making things a bit manic
My fear’s in full throttle
So hand me a bottle
Of whiskey to coddle my panic!
Mad and Mark bought a nice place
And it came with a boat that would race
They weren’t too keen
On that high-speed machine
But the place was a space that was ace.
That boat was a bit of a curse
They’re quite lucky they needed no hearse
From the battery failing
To rain, and the bailing,
And going adrift, which was worse?
True story, folks; for more juicy details of M & M’s story of the perils of owning a speedboat, check out:
Motor Boating Just Isn’t Our Speed (Humor Column by Mad Kane.)
P.S. Empty your bladder before reading
From MBK: Thanks for the plug!
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 261.
Congratulations to our Limerick-Off Award Winner, the Boating-Themed Limerick Winner, and to the Honorable Mention winners.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Frame.