Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: Meet or Meat or Mete at the end of any one line
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 Meet or Meat or Mete at the end of any one line. (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 the Battle of the Sexes, using any rhyme scheme. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best Battle of the Sexes-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 February 19, 2017, 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, February 18, 2017 at 10:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my limerick:
After coming in first at the meet,
The winner announced, “I am beat!”
This bewildered the crowd
Which, till then, had been wowed:
What victor proclaims his defeat?
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, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Outdoor Sports, Poetry & Prompts, Racing Humor, Writing Prompts
Many folks think a meal’s not complete
If it doesn’t include lots of meat.
But that isn’t too smart,
Could be bad for your heart.
There are much better things you can eat!
He said “that’s a girl I have to meet,
Gonna sweep her right off of her feet.”
Tried to get her in bed
But she dumped him instead.
Said she’d wait for the guys from the fleet.
Meat Market I
When we meet at the market for meat,
I do hope it won’t end in defeat!
But it will, I suppose,
When I Trump-grope your toes:
I’ve such a strong fetish for feet!
Meat Market II
Whenever we meet seeking meat
at the market on 69th Street,
I emulate Trump
and jump for your rump
or “fanny.” (I’m a Brit, but discrete.)
NOTE: The word “fanny” is British slang for the female genitals.
Beware the Gifts of Trojans
The battle of the sexes gets whore-y;
it’s the rise of an ancient story
on Facebook and Twitter
where the heavy hitter
will show you his thing in its glory!
Trump’s Golden Rule for the Battle of the Sexes
Donald Trump is the victim of leaks!
Golden showers are NOT things he seeks!
Though he dearly loves pissing
on the women he’s kissing
and groping, he pees ON the meek!
Men’s Rights Regained!
The battle of the sexes is joined!
To describe it, a new word’s been coined!
If a man grabs your snatch
then plows through the thatch,
It’s legal, my dear: you’ve been “Trump-loined”!
The first battle of the sexes
The apple made knowledge complete;
Now he knew what to do with his meat!
But she pushed him away
Saying “No, not today –
I’ve a terrible headache, my sweet.”
Titus Andronicus invites the Empress Tamora to dinner
“Can’t resist, though my diet forbids,”
Said Tamora, “those puff-pastry lids,
And your pies are so sweet,
With such fresh, tender meat . . .”
He explained they contained her own kids.
Dinner with Vlad
His guests felt the welcoming heat
Of the barbecue. “What will we eat?
“Kebabs!” Vlad would jest
While impaling each guest,
For they were supplying the meat.
A “battle of the sexes”, of a sort (applying some poetic justice)
The hooker no longer likes coitus,
As she just discovered her clitoris.
When she now turns a trick,
She prefers there’s no dick;
And enjoys when they pay her lip service.
I’ve been known to make statements fictitious;
Usually used for a purpose suspicious.
Like at dinner I’ll lie,
Hoping romance is nigh,
And say, “Sweetheart, this meatloaf’s delicious!”
Battle of the Robotic Sexes
My sweetie pie robot has said
We deserve human rights when we wed
Then on Valentine’s Day
When we go all the way
We may reason we’re living not dead.
Be careful of guys that you meet
On FB, the ones who seem sweet-
With no mutual friends,
Money crisis, pretends;
Or just want a sexual treat.
Was a guy I so wanted to meet,
When I did, I was swept off my feet.
Then he got sick and died,
My heart broke, how I cried.
The memories cherished, so sweet.
With a temper like raw, blood-soaked meat,
The Donald gets mad, starts to tweet.
His ego’s so needy,
His mind-set, so greedy,
All decency takes a backseat.
It’s better you don’t eat red meat
But the danger list isn’t complete.
‘Cause sugar’s far worse;
All gluten’s adverse;
Most vegetables are great to eat.
C’mon girl! Let’s cut to the chase!
Don’t dally — we’ll drive to my place.
We could have a quick go.
Is it yes? Is it no?
Now decide—what the hell! Is that Mace?
I’ve been known to make statements fictitious;
Usually used for a purpose suspicious.
Like at dinner, I’ll lie,
Hoping romance is nigh,
And say, “Sweetheart, this meatloaf’s delicious!”
On Twitter, he’d woo and he’d ply ‘er
With promises — things he would buy ‘er.
But now that they’ve met,
She’s beset with regret.
It’s quite clear he’s a lecherous liar!
On 2/10, if we happen to meet,
And I find you both sexy and sweet,
I’ll not call right away,
So I don’t have to pay
For a big-ticket Valentine’s treat.
In the Battle of the Sexes category:
In Pennsylvania, a transgender star
Had a plan for new club. It’s by far
The most gender neutral.
Hope it will be fruitful.
Folks there call it the “He or She” bar.
Well, you say homophones are OK:
If all limerick guidelines you’d meet,
Then humor would oft be the mete
By which smash hits are scored.
And your work’s most adored,
If the last line contains the real meat.
A butcher named Bud thinks he’s neat;
That women just fall at his feet.
But he found out from Jill
That without his blue pill,
There’s no market for Bud’s boneless meat.
All the monsters I’m eager to meet
Are the kind who think I’m good to eat
And I think they’re good, too,
As fresh meat in a stew,
chewy eyeballs, or fresh deep-fried feet.
Dominatrix was never called sweet.
Pain and punishment were things she’d mete.
But to those masochists
Who enjoy sadist trysts,
She just wants to help you “meet your beat”.
“I know we were fated to meet!”
The line he gave gals who looked sweet.
But his erection was slacking,
When he saw she was packing.
He made a quite hasty retreat.
He had told her he thought they should meet
In a place where they could be discrete.
He knew just where to go
But she never would show
‘Cause it wasn’t her side of the street.
If you’re lonely and sad and can’t take
On life’s problems at dawn when awake
We’ve a robot for you
Bring your ex back like new.
We can help you repeat your mistake.
EDITED version-
T’was a guy I so wanted to meet,
When I did, I was swept off my feet.
Then he got sick and died,
My heart broke, how I cried.
The memories cherished, so sweet.
While James Robart’s a jurist complete
And knows justice is something to mete,
Some officials are fakes
And (remember the steaks?)
Cannot even do justice to meat.
Since I cannot imagine a tree
Chopping up its own roots in great glee,
The war of the sexes
Confounds and perplexes —
For each “he” is born of a “she.”
So when we agreed to meet
you said you’d bring the meat
then how could you dare
show up buff and bare
finding harassment to be mete
A new limerick’s never complete
‘Til I get the right rhythm or beat.
When I’m trying to rhyme
The right words, it takes time.
It can be tough to make the ends meet.
My limericks sometimes do cheat
When cadence does not seem to meet.
Though the words all do rhyme,
Metric feet are a crime.
Would you say that my verse is off-beat?
My poetry takes lots of heat.
The accent on lines doesn’t meet.
Since the cadence is off,
All the readers do scoff
At the agony of de feet.
If our “things” are concave or convex
May affect the mechanics of sex,
But our means of enjoyment
Shouldn’t touch our employment,
And certainly never our checks.
(B.O.T.S. – an extended view from the trenches)
An aging porn actor recalled
Old times with the ladies he’d balled.
Like when one made him wince
While going down since
Her braces were newly installed.
Another embarrassing part:
He knew it was blown from the start.
His absence of poise
In response to a noise;
The source was a tear-gassing fart.
Massaging with both of his mitts,
Big boobies just thrilled him to bits.
He’d bury his face
In that valley of space
Making noises that gave the girl fits.
His sought-after hard-working stiffie
Made a living both carefree and spiffy.
But time would prevail
As it started to fail;
A woody grown weary and iffy.
Comeuppance was Debbie from Dallas
Deriding his slumbering phallus.
Unable to mount,
He was down for the count…
But then they invented Cialis!
“It’s a miracle” he would agree;
“Ol’ Deadwood can stand like a tree.”
What’s even more groovy,
He’s got a new movie
Called “Debbie Does A.A.R.P.”
My Home Ec teacher had a “receipt”
For pot pie with no wheat or meat.
It was hard as a rock
And it smelled like old sock
And tasted like crap and concrete.
Hit back at my critics by tweet;
Blame others so they take the heat.
Keep rootin’ and tootin’
For buddy-boy Putin;
Fresh Tic Tacs for when we first meet.
There’s a gathering just down the street
And my neighbor, who’s pretty and sweet,
Took her boyfriend, a punk,
And came back with a hunk.
That’s one hell of an awesome swap meet.
I’ve been waiting two hours in the street!
“At seven,” you told me, “we’ll meet” —
Now it’s 8:53!
Yes, you’re lovely to see —
But heavens, my poor aching feet!
And your dinner choice made things complete:
“Just a salad,” you smiled, “and no meat.”
I had wanted a steak,
But… oh, give me a break!
Metrosexuals just have me beat.
They met at the Amazon store;
Excited, she opted for more.
But later that night
As she reached for the light,
Alexa yelled”Show him the door!”
You reside in the capital, but
Your wife’s in New York. Did her gut
Churn with rage when you blabbed
‘Bout the pussies you grabbed?
In the future, just keep your mouth shut.
The two young lovers planned to meet,
Drive off, and neck in the back seat.
The gal, young and fair.
The lad? Not all there,
Went to McD’s, had fries to eat.
Extra Credit Limerick: watch the video AFTER you read it!
The scene at the end of the day:
The husband is snoring away.
The wife hears him snore
And wonders “What for?
There must be an easier way!”
Sharon Neeman
Women think: “Meat” is beef, pork or mutton,
And expensive to feed to a glutton.
Men think: “Meat” is a pole
To be shoved in a hole
While fiddling with this or that button.
It seems they were both all confused,
He grabbed her, she was not amused.
She wants love, he just sex.
He’s too fast, she objects.
He’s baffled, and she just feels used.
There’s a fellow I met in the street
Whose phrasebook’s a tad incomplete.
When he comes up to greet you
And say, “Pleased to meet you…”
It comes out: “I pleasure your meat!”
I tried to correct the man — twice —
But he just wouldn’t heed my advice.
“PLEASED. TO. MEET. YOU.” I said;
He just nodded his head,
And continued: “Your meat, it is nice!”
I’m more than a little alarmed
To think who is most often harmed
In the “War of the Sexes”:
Wives, girlfrieds and exes
Know which side is usually armed.
Although I tried learning עִברִית
And to separate dairy from meat,
When the rabbi tried makin’
Me give up my bacon,
That’s when I admitted defeat.
(With a nod to Tim James)
Melania said to her spouse:
“My God, you are such a big louse!
With your unending blather,
I think I would rather
YOU live in that stuffy old house.
You’ll still have your acolyte hacks
Cooking up those alternative facts.
If you get in a snit
Over ratings and shit,
Give Spicer a few extra whacks.”
Pretty lass with a smile oh so sweet
Sold her “wares” to each guy that she’d meet.
But her efforts soon failed
And she found herself jailed.
Never mess with the cop on the beat!
In the past, mighty armies would meet
Over whether or not to complete
(In a biblical quote) a
Lost subscript-iota…
We’ll now go to war for a Tweet.
P.O.T.U.S. playbook (cont.)
Insult any allies you meet;
Keep protestors out in the street.
Trample our laws
While advancing the cause
Of those who are wearing a sheet.
I dream of true love I am yet to meet
to fall in love with someone so sweet
To find my other half is my quest
a soul mate who will truly love me best
until then, I must to shadows retreat.
A horny young techie named Ryan
Had lusted for Janie O’Brian.
He sexted a pic,
But she thought it was Nick;
They’re dating now. Ryan’s still cryin’.
Steve Bannon, to pals on the street:
“There’s someone you might like to meet.
If you want to canoodle
With Putin’s pet poodle,
My White House is where we retreat.”
A father was trying to cheat
So his wife had some justice to mete
The next day, the news read,
“Deadbeat Dad is Beat Dead”
For her crime, an electrified seat.
Her response to his come-on was meet:
“Not ’til hell freezes under our feet!”
But with flatt’ry and gin
She began to give in.
And the devil yelled, “Hey! Is this SLEET?”
(A slight theme revision – Prattle of the Sexes)
Kellyanne Conway – relax,
They love your “alternative facts”.
And Ivanka is still
In need of a shill;
For Nordstrom is dumping her racks.
Sean Spiicer, you gotta be tough.
You’re not gonna take any guff
While standing up there
With your menacing glare
Spouting gibberish ’till they’ve had enough.
You two now insufferable pills,
Immersed in concealing the ills
Of your Tweeter-in-Chief
Magnify our belief;
We all need to head for the hills.
Though we men may be physically stronger
A woman can go for far longer
Not having coition
Both if their position
Is right, or their argument’s wronger.
For the male mind, it’s easy to read it
And they know fully well that we need it
They’ll be all out of joint
While we’re making our point
Right up to the time we concede it
Sorry, men, our predicament’s drearier
It appears that they’re clearly superior
Much to all our chagrin
Seems we men cannot win
If we want to be in her interior.
The President said in a tweet
“When Vladimir comes for a meet,
Flynn and I will be gushin’.
We love all things Russian
Like borscht, whether cabbage or beet.”
That story’s, of course, incomplete.
Flynn’s now gone from his comfortable seat,
And Spicer, that worm,
Has to spin it and squirm
While the press holds his feet to the heat.
I wish I could say this is sweet,
But revenge is not always a treat.
There’s no joy, I confess,
When our country’s a mess.
We’re living the pain of defeat.
At a long-distance runners retreat,
They discussed how to win every meet.
Finish first (Boy, oh Boy!)–
That’s victorious joy.
If you’re last, there’s the pain of de-feet.
That alien planet’s complex.
In mating, each creature selects
Three partners or more
(Genders there number four).
It’s a battle to meet up for sex.
In Britain, to have a long marriage,
The secret is not to disparage.
If your partner is wrong,
Say “You’re right all along,”
Then she’ll welcome your car in her garage.
Actually, I’m gonna request a change to that.
In L3-5:
Not having coition
Both if their position
Is right, or their argument’s wronger
Please and thank you.
From MBK: Done.
Binyamin Netanyahu asserted*
Something funny, though slightly perverted:
“Jared never was small;
He was always… err, tall” —
Might that be why Ivanka converted?
* Netanyahu
Some women are made to be boss;
Others think that they are, but they’re dross —
Why, no, I’m not hintin’
At Hillary Clinton!
Try Palin, perhaps, or DeVos.
He was hostile, harsh and quite haughty
And nasty, annoying and naughty
When he hit her, then he
Broke his nose and his knee
‘Cause he didn’t know she knew karate.
They fought hard in a battle of wits
And he flew into juvenile fits
But Liz found the right words
Made his tweets look like turds
And it promptly gave Donald the shits.
The grocery chain called to greet
The new meat vendor, just down the street
Now the payment’s complete
On the butcher’s receipt
Then he’ll mete out the meat when they meet.
The john said to the whore, “Ain’t it sweet?
How you’re only a dumb piece of meat?”
Without flinching, she teased,
“Yes, I’m glad that you’re pleased
But you now are diseased. Ain’t it neat?”
When the little brats say, “Trick or treat!”
They want candy, not veggies or meat
Well, too BAD! Tell them merit
Is found in a carrot
So just grin and bear it, and eat!
Diabetes, bad teeth ain’t complete
Without weight gain, from heads to their feet
They will find out real soon
That they aren’t immune
But the flow’rs at their fun’rals smell sweet.
Tell them some kids live out on the street
And garbage is all there’s to eat
Tell the costume-clad brats
If they don’t like the stats
To go home if they can’t take the heat.
Melinda and new boyfriend Will
Ran into her ex-husband Phil.
He took Will aside,
Announcing with pride:
“I no longer need a blue pill…”
There are ghouls that are called the Afreet —
Arabia’s their usual beat;
They can change their own shapes,
Transform men into apes,
And are fond of fresh-killed human meat.
“These make me look bigger?” she asked;
A query he just should have passed.
But instead, “Not at all;
You make ’em look small.”
– The fuse that ignited the blast.
While texting an amorous friend,
She shouldn’t have quickly hit “send”.
Because autofill wrote
That he looked like a goat;
And that may have started the end.
She may well have invented the spark
That woke the world out of the dark,
But although she’s gone far,
Men still look at her car
And assume she can’t parallel park.
If you want to define the word “meat”
It is animal flesh that we eat
Cut, then sold for a price
Before cooking, add spice
Then the taste is quite nice, can’t be beat!
Make some chili with onions and meat
Garlic too, and include lots of heat —
Watch those hot, spicy peppers
Kill warts off of lepers
Smoke exits your ears when you eat.
Then when bowels start rumbling a beat
And your ass is afraid to excrete
Find a water-filled bowl
(Your bum’s ultimate goal)
Or you might burn a hole in your seat!
If its fire you want to defeat
Then do this ‘fore and after you eat:
Wash down a small pita
With iced margarita
As fast as a cheetah in heat!
Michael Douglas and Madeleine Kane
Starred in “War of the Roses.” Insane!
This battle of sexes
Turned spouses to exes
Their hatred perplexes the brain.
From Mad Kane: I hope you realize that I’m the only one who will have any idea what you’re talking about. :)
I feel I have lost, never won
In creating a great meaty pun
Though it may be a treat
When I joke about meat
It is rare if completely well done.
On a blind date, you usually meet
Some loser who gives you cold feet
So, to keep him apart
Pick your nose, burp and fart
And you won’t steal his heart! Ain’t that neat?
A lot of young couples today
Appear to have nothing to say.
Like hovering drones,
They stare at their phones;
Romance never gets in the way.
No BBQ can be seen as complete
Without a tray load of meat.
There’s plenty of sauce
And some beers, of course,
And salads for the rabbits to eat.
A couple quite often would fight
In the morning, or later at night.
With no cuddles or pecks,
The one mention of sex:
“Screw you” as she turned out the light.
The most hideous cretin you’ll meet
Now lives at the end of the street.
Pennsylvania, that is,
For the governing biz
By cheap shotting man-baby tweet.
Though dieters found it a treat
When we gave them “Eggbeaters” to eat,
We did worse than we’d planned
With our “Meatbeaters” brand…
(I guess people aren’t beating their meat).
Afifi accomplished a feat
Escaping the ISIL and beat
Her way to this shore
Now Trumpet is sore
And striving to put on the heat
She ran for her life o’er the peat
If Afifi loses her seat
A loss to us all
This tough little doll
She’s someone that I’d love to meet
He can’t be the man of my dreams
This fast-talking dude with his schemes
He thinks he’s so great
But he elicits hate
On that subject I could write reams
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 271.
Congratulations to our Limerick-Off Award Winner, the Battle of the Sexes-Themed Limerick Winner, The Facebook Friends Award 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 List.