Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: BUST, BUSSED, or ROBUST 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 BUST, BUSSED, or ROBUST 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 CONFUSION, using any rhyme scheme. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best CONFUSION-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 March 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, March 18, 2017 at 10:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my limerick:
An upper crust fellow went bust,
And cussed as he tried to adjust
To his new lack of money;
He’d trusted his “honey,”
But was screwed and undone by his lust.
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, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
Gray, Gray, Go Away ~
Many brain cells, but none I can trust,
Slipping out through my scalp like gray rust.
When I think, do I am?
I’m not sure, thank you, M’am,
For my motto’s “Confusion or Bust!”
A young fellow had feelings of lust
For a lady with amply sized bust.
But his love and affection
Were both met with rejection.
Yet another poor guy bites the dust!
A good friend who I thought I could trust
Said “this stuff is great. Try it you must!”
Couple hits, couple more,
Then a knock on the door.
Cops yelled “open up, this is a bust!”
Dear Mad: There’s a question I’ll mention
That’s causing me worry and tension:
Though my verse is robust,
Why do **you** think it’s just
Good enough for an honorable mention?
*****
From Mad: Just in case your question isn’t meant to be rhetorical, here’s my response:
To earn any Limerick-Off contest mention, limericks have to be 1) objectively well-constructed in terms of meter and rhyme and 2) subjectively funny and/or clever and/or unusual and/or especially timely.
To earn one of the two top awards, a limerick has to make me laugh more than the others do and/or dazzle me with wordplay or other unusually clever use of language. Needless to say, this is highly subjective.
The sculptor expletively cussed;
His statue had crumbled to dust,
Leaving only the head.
“Oh, fuck it!” he said,
“My sculpture is totally bust.”
A lady with a magnificent bust
Caused several young fellows to lust.
But sadly her cleavage
Was just a deceivage—
A terrible betrayal of their trust.
The bimbo was proud of her bust,
And she always went bra-less, untrussed.
When she waved them about,
She would give such a clout
That admirers all ended concussed.
“Us supporters all find it confusing;
We elected the guy of our choosing,
But day after day
He is taking away
All our welfare. How come we’re still losing?”
“Wth my companies all going bust,
Russian mafia loans were a must.
But that’s not a reason
To charge me with treason –
Vlad Putin’s a guy I can trust.”
Said Pence, “The assertion’s a bust,
That a wall on the border’s a must
“Any wall that we phase-in
Will keep all the gays in,
And that’s something we haven’t discussed.”
Donald’s dilemma
It’s confusing when driven by lust,
And choosing just leaves me non-plussed.
Is it tits I should hold,
Or go straight for the gold?
My dilemma – Grab pussy, or bust.”
The hooker was very robust,
And would bonk them with thrust after thrust.
Then she’d tie up her clients
With knot-maker’s science,
And rob them. Her street-name? “Miss Trussed”.
The passage of time is unjust;
What happened to yesterday’s lust?
I met an old flame
(I’ve forgotten her name),
But sadly, we didn’t combust.
His face is the colour of rust,
And his “To pee” can only disgust.
With his absence of skills
And his army of shills,
He will soon make America bust.
“Ladies, please, may I have your attention?”
Said the Dean. “Now, you say the convention
Was an absolute bust!
Would you please explain just
What it was that caused so much contention?”
The oldest librarian fussed,
“We were told that we all would be bussed!
There was no osculation —
They meant transportation!
There isn’t a man you can trust.”
Said Pence, “We must trust the Earth’s crust.
After six thousand years, it’s not bust.
If God had intended
The world to be ended
By climate change, we’d all be dust.”
TEN!
When my wife told me “Wow, you’re a “ten”,
It was rather confusing. Since when
Do we men get assessed?
All she meant, she confessed,
Was my limerick count, once again.
Oh, so WHAT if Ms. Kellyanne kneels
Wearing shoes and a dress that reveals?
With so much else confusing,
Just why are we losing
Our… wait for it!… head over heels?
You’re confused to learn about me?
What you get, is just what you see.
Except in each photo,
With those, I go loco!
The hot gals of my fantasy.
This year has so far been a bust,
There’s no one in charge we can trust.
With each Cabinet pick
Things just get more sick.
We look at each one with disgust.
Though she had a rather small bust,
The guys all pursued her with lust.
WIth pleasure they’d shriek
Over her sex technique.
Her hotness caused them to combust.
Over bra-less young gals men do lust.
Sales of bras are way down, so store must
See the market’s shifting.
Though bras are uplifting,
Store will close ’cause their sales have gone bust.
The shop’s owner has closed in disgust;
Sold ceramic heads, but they were just
Not too much in demand;
Didn’t go as he planned.
He lost everything when he went bust.
The child’s parents are really perplexed;
They don’t know what they ought to do next.
Boy’s so energetic
Makes teachers frenetic.
Books he likes all contain hyper text.
We were playing charades, and emotions
Were on edge. I was caught in commotions
With the gestures I used.
What is wrong? I’m confused.
I was just going through the motions.
Case of beer that I bought caused confusion.
When I opened the box, an exclusion
Of one-sixth of the case
Caused some shock on my face.
They’d been stolen, a four-gone conclusion.
Rusty To Dusty
A man whose love wand was bust
Found a lady to heal it with lust
It instantly morphed
Infinitisimally dwarfed
Yes! The poor thing turned into dust.
Mike Moulton that’s funny
Confusion
I put on my pinny, go wash the dishes
That’s why I’m skinny, obey all her wishes
put head in bin, pull out cold butter
No wonder my child, calls me a nutter
Give the cat coffee? Is not what you said?
You wanted a toffee! Not on your head?
Chicken soup dear? Not in your ear?
Thought I miss heard, you thpught that I cared?
The cats’ feeling crappy?
Why aren’t you happy?
Your husbands’ demented?
Must be –
What God intended!
March 11th, when going to bed,
Do I set the clock back, or ahead?
It’s confusing as hell —
But I’ve solved it quite well:
Throw the clock out the window instead!
“Eighteen stanzas of rot about just
One word from a bird on a bust!”
The poetry maven
Belittled “The Raven”:
“It left me distinctly nonplussed.”
“A boob job” she told Dr. Carr;
“To look like a Hollywood star.”
Unveiled, her new bust
Left a lover nonplussed:
“Like NFL footballs they are…”
Pot of tea, freshly brewed and robust,
Fresh hot bagels with crisp golden crust.
They may give me a bulge
But I have to indulge.
Gotta flush out that internal rust!
From a country so strong and robust,
To a cesspool of hate and mistrust.
Thanks to Vladimir Putin,
Donald Trump stuck the boot in,
And America crumbled to dust.
In one long, unrelenting gust,
Don Trump huffed and puffed, fumed and fussed.
And though he’s the prez,
Those words that he sez
Make saner heads go boom and bust.
There has been quite a bit of confusion
With regard to the Russian collusion.
And to add to the drama
Trump’s accusing Obama.
Is it fact or another delusion?
Obama, says Trump, misused power
To tapp [sic] the lines at Trump Tower.
Has Trump’s brain gone bust —
Or is this really just
The result of a chance golden shower?
Confusion
The fine poem I read made no sense
So they said I am frightfully dense.
Make a note anyway.
What’s irrational may
Be one measure of low consequence.
“If it’s weight that you want to be losing,”
Said his wife, “you must give up your boozing.”
But he couldn’t decide
What to dump — pounds or bride?
It really was very confusing…
As he stared at the waitress’s bust
His wife glared at him, said in disgust:
“You’ve brought with you tonight
Quite a big appetite
For some breast with a side dish of lust!”
When he played his piano, he just
Would have thoughts of a beautiful bust
I meant Beethoven’s head!
What you’re thinking instead
Means you’re ready for bed now, I trust.
If you think that you know, but you don’t,
You’re not gonna know what you won’t.
And whenever you don’t
Ever know what you won’t,
You never will know what you don’t.
The Donald’s befuddled by gremlins,
Afflicted with shakin’s and trem’lin’s.
He can’t quite remember
Events in November –
Is he ’Merica’s Prez, or the Kremlin’s?
My poor friend John has gone completely bust,
Because his metal has started to rust.
He owns a scrap shop, see,
So he’s quite unlucky.
That his gold’s got an iron oxide crust.
(Iron Oxide is rust.)
When it says “Pinging is currently not allowed… What is pinging?
*************
From Mad:
Pinging is an automated notice whereby a blog owner is notified (via a comment) that her blog has been linked to in another person’s blog. I have that function turned off because it tends to be exploited by spammers.
Having met in a line at the store,
They went up to her place for more.
The night was sublime
‘Till that moment in time
When he asked “Have I been here before?”
Confusion’s a glorious state;
Don’t answer the question; conflate!
Just wander around
With a muttering sound
In the manner Trump’s staff can relate.
If trickle-down theory you trust,
Giving rich folks more money’s a must.
But that’s asking for trouble.
That boom’s just a bubble
That soon will turn into a bust.
Repairing line 5:
A contest! I stumbled upon it.
Here’s my entry–a winner, doggone it!
What’s that? I’m befuddled.
Brain’s addled and muddled.
It seems I have written a sonnet.
In that room with the MLK bust,
Intelligent questions are cussed.
There’s a short-fingered slouch,
Kelleyanne on the couch;
So be angry and scream if you must!
To Fred:
But a sonnet’s lines number fourteen
You’re confusing me, Fred; don’t be mean!
Did your head hit the ground?
Nah, instead, it does sound
Like you’re messing around with my bean!
When the herd takes the fastest way down,
When the bull hits the fan with a frown,
When the bubbles go bust
And the markets eat dust,
Then the boot kicks the butt of the clown.
There was a dead poet from Limerick
Who’s verse was considered just gibberish
So he had put on his bust
As all great men must
My poems weren’t written for idiots !
First attempt at a Limerick !
Kind regards James
Oh, I’m terribly piqued and upset!
We were shopping, and I asked Jeannette,
“Does this flatter my bust?”
She replied with disgust,
“Well… flatter, it just couldn’t get.”
The bimbo is hugely nonplussed
What he says of her boobs is unjust!
To please, she’d relented
And had them augmented
But now he just says, “What a bust!”
Sean Spicer’s not glib and amusing;
He tends to be drab and confusing.
Unflinchingly hollow,
His job is to follow
What Kislyak’s boss man is choosing.
A gal one shouldn’t trust
Is one with a buxom bust
She will rip you off
Then take them off
And you’ll be wholly and downright non plussed
Not his hair, but his brainbox is bleached!
His mind’s too far gone to be reached!
The confusion today:
Better put him away,
Or simply make sure he’s impeached?
In high school I had no bust
So I did what I thought I must
I went to the spa
And they stuffed my bra
I was then known as the slut you can trust
When a girl has an ample bust
You may approach her with a fierce carnal thrust
But, Sir, when you’re done
She may pull out her gun
Then ashes to ashes and dust to dust
Flippant
As this president’s tweets are a bust,
He’s a leader who leads without trust.
Without proof of a tap,
He’s a libelous sap
Who is trying to flip what is just!
Though I thought the new horse looked robust,
First impressions are not fit to trust.
He couldn’t be ridden:
He galloped unbidden
And tossed me off into the dust.
Huh?
If you vow you won’t cuss, did you swear?
Two Bartletts, are they not a pair?
If your pants become torn
Is it ’cause they’re well worn?
If the bus costs you more is it fare?
Is an athlete from France called a jacques?
Is a fly without wings called a walk?
If, with no arms, you’re born,
Would you still enjoy porn?
Is a tube filled with gooey stuff, caulk?
I have to say I’m filled with confusion
Is it true, or just a delusion
Is Trump being wired
Or will he be fired
I hope it’s just a surreal allusion
My limerick for the week is here:
Reset in Motion — Friends sharing food can leave us renewed.
oops!
Men and women are worlds apart
Not that guys aren’t smart
You ask them to get whole milk
Then they bring home almond Silk
Confusion aside, they’re still your darling sweetheart
CONFUSION
TWO and TWO make four
No less and no more
It’s hard TO discern
A language you must learn
It surely is very complicated
But just TOO hard to ignore
I am a person purely by choice.
A human? Yes! Oh, let us rejoice!
Mars is coloured like rust,
All its business is bust.
I prefer Earth, where the air is moist.
Alas, I am so confused.
My new pen seems to be used.
Left it on my desk,
And some little pest
Wrote some poems while I snoozed!
A sweet gal was really confused-
Did he care, or was she being used?
Was enough to perplex,
All he wanted was sex.
When asked, he looked rather bemused.
“CONFUSION”
I’ve read many novels, some good, some bad
But what really confuses me is the doubling of HAD
If Susie HAD HAD too much to drink, would she be less drunk
If she HAD too much and HAD some time to think?
And what about poor Mr. Brown who HAD HAD a bad day at the store?
If he just HAD a bad day would work be less of a chore?
Why go to all the trouble of repeating HAD, when the world
situation is really quite bad!
I can honestly predict that life would go on: some happy events, some sad.
But it wouldn’t make one bit of a difference if we changed HAD HAD to
HAD!
If your story is good, no one would care, so don’t be in a state of frantic despair!
I beg you, grammarians, we would be so glad if you let us change HAD HAD to HAD!
I had had alot to drink.
I had a lot to drink.
They are both valid ways to express you have been drinking.
I’m in a state of frantic confusion
Why was my husband seen with Susan?
First they had brunch
Then they had lunch
At home there will be plenty “accusion”
My boyfriend is very robust
His strength is widely discussed
But when he lifted the chair
He got a bad tear
So now he’s very well trussed
REVISION
I”m in a state of UTTER confusion
Why was my husband seen with Susan?
First they had brunch
Then they had lunch
At home there will be plenty “accusion”
The call girl and Reverend Greene
Canoodled in front of a screen.
Only they didn’t know
It was Skyping their show
To the rectory back in Racine.
A Two-fer:
Two teens, so confused by their lust,
Feel desire where once was disgust.
Their organs a-tingle,
They meld and they mingle.
(It started when she grew a bust.)
CONFUSION?????
Is Trump’s phone tapped
Or had he just snapped
Any which way
We all should pray
Because he’s not too tightly wrapped
As matters of trust were discussed,
He wantonly leered at her bust.
Pissed, she switched to HIS role
And took full control.
He’s now on the floor tightly trussed.
If your age is… well… “higher than many,”
And your income’s… well… “need every penny,”
Then Trumpcare will just
Ensure you go bust;
CEOs, though, will really save plenty!
Determined I felt, and robust,
To write these few lines, so I fussed.
For better or worse
I dashed off this verse,
And left everyone else in the dust.
I admit that I’m slightly amused
By hyperbole Kellyanne’s used —
Why, microwaves never
Could be all that clever!
The poor dear is clearly confused.
The stripper was quick to adjust
Her costume, revealing a bust
That was bulbous and firm;
Rail riders would squirm,
Fearing contact could leave one concussed.
In Samsung, folks used to have trust.
Their smartphones were truly a must.
Then News at Eleven
Warned, “Galaxy seven
May burst into flame and combust.”
For March 17:
An Irishman people called Mick
Was really incredibly thick
Confused most of all
By three spades ‘gainst a wall
When they told him to go take his pic
revised version:
On a young man’s piano a bust,
Of Beethoven gathered some dust,
As the boy had stopped playing,
Spending all his time swaying,
With a girl who’s the aim of his lust.
With an Irishman whose name was Pat
Confusion reigned under his hat.
When they gave him a chance
To do a tap-dance
He fell in the sink with a splat.
To Sharon Neeman:
On the other hand, I am confused
How Kellyanne Conway infused
Microwaves in the mix
Of those phone tapping tricks;
Her knee-slappers can’t be excused.
A ‘confusion’ limerick based on an old Irish joke I once heard.
Drunk Murphy waved his key in the cell.
“Dey’ve taken me car, bloody hell!”
“Calm down” said the copper,
“You’re exposing your chopper.”
“Fek, dey’ve stolen me girlfriend as well!”
For Whom the Tick Tocks ~
Daylight Savings Time deepens his fear;
First death fades away, then it draws near,
But with clocks hid’ away
We can honestly say
That he gets confused less twice a year.
Sean Spicer’s weird use of air quotes
Will not get his people our votes.
You don’t hear us clapping
For “‘Tapping,’ not tapping!”
Is Spicer confusing us? Totes!
another revised version:
Said Pence, “The assertion’s a bust,
That a wall on the border’s a must
“Any wall that we phase-in
Will keep all the gays in,
Which is something we haven’t discussed.”
When I was among the wee lads
My thoughts went from happys to sads
Cause I had some confusion
About my “protrusion”
Would it someday be big as my dad’s?
Wire tapp crapp
There was never much doubt. Now we’re sure
Kellyanne and Sean’s motives are pure.
Their prime occupation:
Complete obfuscation.
It’s years since I’ve seen such manure.
A question that’s likely to stump,
And that’s causing my shoulders to slump —
A question confusing,
Perplexing, bemusing —
Is this: Is there life beyond Trump?
The incompetent physicist fussed:
“If it’s only a question of thrust,
Then the rocket should go —
But what I just don’t know
Is if it will go bust or combust!”
(Kellyanne helps with the press briefing)
She whispers in Sean Spicer’s ear:
“We’re making it perfectly clear
That, starting right now,
We will never allow
Those microwave cameras in here.”
They say women who have a small bust
Have big hearts that you always can trust
But it’s somewhat amusing
How they are excusing
Their flatness, confusing men’s lust.
At a pool, where the D-cups are brimmin’
The men cannot focus on swimmin’
As they ogle each bust
Something grows, and they lust
Behind speedos, disgusting the women.
Have you got a thin, low-hanging bust?
Do they swing around when there’s a gust?
Then just take the whole lot
Tie it into a knot
Strap it up, nice and taut; now they’re trussed!
If you think I’m an optic illusion
Then your mind’s in a state of confusion
If you don’t think you’ve known me
You might end up lonely
Delusion’s the only conclusion.
Sometimes, I may mix up my facts
Get corrected as someone reacts
They get cocky and bold
And they say with eyes rolled,
“Must be Alzheimer’s that she attracts!”
All the kids on the bus yelled and cussed
Their behavior they should readjust
If the brats haven’t got
Much respect, here’s a thought:
Make them walk then, while not getting bussed.
True story:
When my sister (the eldest) was born,
From the birth my poor mother was worn
Doctor spanked the babe’s bum
Checked her health, and then some
Got returned to her mum the same morn.
When she lifted the blanket to feed her
The feelings of shock would stampede her
A boy was inside
My poor mum almost died
As the nurses had tried to mislead her.
The confusion and screams that would follow
Were much more than the woman could swallow
The real babe they did bring
To which Momma did cling
Their apologies ringing quite hollow.
Well, my mum and the nurses conversed
Then in laughter together immersed
Any punishment draped
On the nurses escaped
‘Cause that day – it was April the first!
I am confused about this travel ban
What exactly is his plan
People are huddled
And completely befuddled
And wondering who is this crazy mad man
Obamacare/Trumpcare
As complacent conservatives whine
And the liberals think this divine,
To repeal and replace
Is a desperate case
Without bill for the POTUS to sign!
A large breast transplant, doctors discussed
Over transporting it, they had fussed
But the doc’s bio lab
Found no cruiser or cab
Or an ambulance that they could trust.
Soon they found a bus driver who just
Drove the thing in a big cloud of dust
While good timing prevailed
The whole surgery failed
So the bussed, robust bust was a bust.
His regime fills us all with disgust
And when we resist, as we must
Then Trump’s all a-twitter
He’s boorish and bitter
That blowhard’s about to combust.
I have an appointment at three –
But who am I going to see?
My phone’s in my car,
Which is parked not too far –
If I only could locate the key…
Though his lectures were drier than dust,
Her chem prof’s hot form fueled her lust.
Building up heat and stress
With each sweet self-caress,
She proceeded, quite soon, to combust.
Trump’s rants I think are a ruse
Red herrings while meanwhile his crews
Wreak devastation
Throughout the nation
Despite all the hisses and boos
Trump thinks the US constitution
Was written to deny him solution
Re his rants
And his can’ts
And his place in world evolution.
An Ample Sample ~
Such a robust bust had to be bussed.
Long before she arrived it was thrust
Like the bow of a ship
On a very long trip;
With leviathon’s ribs it was trussed.
The Dieter’s Lament
Without sugar or fat, there is just
No way to make food taste robust —
And they’ve now called a halt
To consumption of salt!
What is left besides water and dust?
The stripper believed it unjust
That her gin joint was raided. It must
Have been something to see:
She’s a 42-D.
The cops thought it quite a good bust.
There was a majestic bust
That disappeared into the dust
The very next day
It was there to stay
My friends: Whom do you trust
(Martin Luther King)
The press office isn’t robust
Where the president’s views are discussed.
Screwed-up haywire’s the rule
At the all-dimwit school
As America’s pride sinks to dust.
Did Spicer call Merkel a liar?
What pillar of law did Trump fire?
Has the pipeline gone bust?
What’s that NOISE?! — Oh, it’s just
Me sneaking in under the wire ;-)
Bragging his brand is robust
And ignoring the country’s disgust,
Trump seeks personal gain
From dishing out pain……
Will his next show be “Who Don’t You Trust?”
What a mess in the press room. Poor Sean!
The only conclusion’s foregone:
It’s massive confusion
Or Russian collusion.
Delusional tweets come each dawn.
His fans have a weird sense of mirth;
They cheer as he slashes their worth.
Confusing? Try this:
If ignorance is bliss,
They’re the happiest people on earth.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Congratulations to our Limerick-Off Award Winner, the Confusion-Themed Limerick Winner, and to the Honorable Mention winners. Limerick-Off Award 273.
But you still can have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Grill.