Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: LOOT or LUTE or SALUTE at the end of any one line (Submission Deadline: June 29, 2019)
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 LOOT or LUTE or SALUTE 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 FARMS, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best FARM-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 June 30, 2019, 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, June 29, 2019 at 10:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my limerick:
My opinion won’t change; it’s immutable:
That boyfriend of yours is unsuitable;
A galoot in a suit
Who is after your loot,
As you’ll see from my proof irrefutable.
And here’s my farm-themed limerick:
A tenderfoot, new at the farm,
Was arrested; he’d whined that his arm
And his foot were both tender,
Then went on a bender.
(The farm’s owner was part-time gendarme.)
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, Dating, Dating Humor, Farming Humor, Farms, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Poetry & Prompts, Relationship Humor, Writing Prompts
Farmer Bob gave a new crop a try
When his cash flow went badly awry.
The results have been grand:
Now supply and demand
Keep his profits and customers high.
The “Livestock Gang” always could tell
When their home was just going to hell
They were very high-tech
And completely a wreck
When the farmer was stuck in the dell
Music store just got robbed; thief did scoot
Out the door. Owner ran in pursuit.
But the owner was slow,
Had to let his foe go,
So the thief got away with the lute.
Damn pesticides always pollute
The water and soil and the fruit
So on Earth Day we tried
To throw toxins aside
And a grateful worm gave a salute
A flautist who played on a flute
And a lutenist playing a lute
Went busking one day
But they lost all their pay
As the looter was much more astute.
I once used to live on a farm
Renowned for its bucolic charm
Though sweet and demure
Amongst the manure
A dairy maid’s life’s not too calm
De Blasio for president? What a hoot!
Thinks he’s worthy? Not very astute.
New York City’s a mess,
So please, let me stress-
My vote? He’ll get a huge, Bronx salute!
Old MacDonald has a farm, a great woe,
This was once a worthy calling, you know.
Now in the same breath,
He sells illness and death.
His produce, one big, toxic GMO.
At “Fashion” Black Friday’s a hoot
The “mob scene” is very acute
With folk’s arms full of clothes
It seems nobody knows
If they’re buying or grabbing the loot
My friend says she’s skilled at the lute
But in town, she is known as “the fruit”
When I gave her my quiz
She claimed the lute is
Her offspring from “Charlie The Flute”
Just milking a cow is a dream!
Ev’ry time that I do it I beam!
But I’m still quite confused
And rather bemused
Cuz I can’t find the right teat for cream
Is Trump’s victory through Russian luck?
Was it stolen or fallen from truck?
Either way, they salute
while he runs with the loot,
and his base don’t know this last line should rhyme with the first and second lines.
I grew up on a farm,
50% more crops was the charm,
Hybrids were the reason,
Much higher produce per season,
And it caused absolutely no harm.
Produce now is even bigger loot,
Wonderful GMO’s deserve the salute,
The world can experience jubilation,
The US can feed the entire population,
With GMO’s we’ll have leftovers to boot.
I was offered a really cool gig
And I knew I would make it real big
First day on my farm
Just held so much charm
Went and bought me a Black Angus pig
The security guard stole the bank’s loot
And tried to hide it in his boot
But his boot was to small
Tried to hide it in a stall
Grabbed a hand full and ran to the mall
There once was a mean old man name yarn
Kept his animals piled up on a barn
The barn was to small
The animals were too tall
They burst through, laying all over the farm
another slightly different version of limerick #2
The “Livestock Gang” always could tell
When their barn was just going to hell
All the pigs were high-tech
And completely a wreck
When the farmer was stuck in the Dell
Trump is a mannerless brute
Whom many red-staters salute.
But the bloke’s absurd:
London flipped him the bird.
Now his blimp needs a parachute.
There once was a hulking galoot
Who couldn’t fit into his suit.
His belly stuck out,
Leaving no room for doubt
That it wasn’t his best attribute.
My Dad’s been a farmer for years
He is one of those great pioneers
Made me pull off the shucks
Till I told him “This sucks”
He said, “QUIET! These cornfields have EARS”
George Orwell was terribly sour;
He felt that our future was dour.
He wrote “Animal Farm”
To raise an alarm
About keeping the pigs out of power
“Military Funeral”
My proctologist’s son was a cutie
As a doctor, he never was snooty
All were told to salute
When we heard the guns shoot
(He was killed in the line of rank doody)
To Queen Maddie I give a salute–
Her brisk lines of wit are a hoot!
From her perfervid mind
Comes a stream of rare kind
With sharp apercus most astute.
Mad: I made a mistake (one limerick up) in L5 which
I called “Military Funeral”
I typed “He was killed in the rank line of doody”
I meant to say “He was killed in the line of rank doody”
Could you change that for me?
Thank You
Lisi
***
Done.
I started to play alto flute
But the pain in my arms was acute
When I blew out the air
It frizzled my hair
I think I will take up the lute
From the past, U.S. farmers don’t learn.
Lots of topsoil’s eroded; they yearn
For rich, fertile soil
In which they can toil.
Lack of dirt is a growing concern.
I think I finally got this right so it makes SENSE !!
My proctologist, John was a cutie
For a doctor, he wasn’t real snooty
Folks were told to salute
When they heard the guns shoot
(He was killed in the line of rank doody)
Which instrument do I salute?
Above all the others, it’s moot;
For beauty of tone
This one stands alone,
For sweetness and depth, abso-lute.
Morning Joe and the snickering Mika;
Say Trump is down 14 points, Eureka!
For Biden a salute,
He already beat the galoot!
Either that or Mika has Zika.
“A Farmer’s Life”
When seeding, you must wear old clothes
(You’ll get dirty, but that’s how it goes)
And make no mistake
Don’t forget a good rake
And for fun bring along a few hoes
While farming is not very posh
And sometimes you waddle in slosh
You still should look nice
So here’s some advice:
Always wear your best Oshkosh B’ Gosh
Robbing “Savings” will be a real snap
Find Miss Ghastly; go flatter and yap
Then say “Hand me the loot;
You’re exceedingly cute”
She’ll surrender and fall for that crap
Saw a produce truck speeding en route
You could see that he stole lots of loot
But he looked really hot
Kind’a just hit the spot
And he had real nice low-hanging fruit
Jim’s martinis just give me that boot!
My zip and my zest get acute
But last night I passed out
What was THAT all about?
(I think he forgot to di lute)
(Seattle’s Fremont Solstice Parade)
Sans clothing – just painted charade,
They rode in the Solstice Parade.
Their naked salute
On a bike was a hoot;
Some fun bosom buddies were made.
“My Life Story”
Both my husbands were “no way” astute
(Their stupidity down-right acute)
Never more shall I wed
Till the day I am dead
And of that I am sure reso lute
The Solution
Now here is a thing I’ll salute
If we can dispose of the brute
We can save the nation
And elect a statesman
Now, wouldn’t that just be a hoot?
Pesticides!?
“No bad stuff in my food,” you moan
So make sure your seeds are all sown
No doubt and no worry
But you’d better hurry
It’s best if you just grow your own!
“Hey nonny nonny”, he sang…
Through the air these angry words rang,
“I’ll give the boot
To you and your lute,
I’m trying to sleep here, Gawd dang!”
Whilst gently playing his lute,
He decided, just for a hoot,
That he would strum
With the tip of his thumb
And tap a wine keg with his boot.
Are you just being greedy
Or helping feeding the needy?
I farm for my horse!
Just grass, of course.
The needy? Ugh! Please not so seedy.
I see you’ve been on a diet
After I said you should try it.
I humbly salute,
You’re looking quite cute,
You happy? Naw? Please don’t deny it.
Las Vegas has riveting charm
But it also can cause you much harm
If you aren’t astute
You can lose all your loot
So remember: Don’t bet the whole farm
If your lap top has froze and won’t boot
The solution’s not hard to compute
“Control” “Alt” “Delete”
Makes this lim’rik complete
Just remember “Three Finger Salute”
“OR”
If your laptop has froze and won’t boot
The solution’s not hard to compute
“Control” “Alt” “Delete”
Gets you back on your feet
Just remember “Three Finger Salute”
The stampede of the cows caused him harm
Then the pigs went and bit off his arm
From this plight he just dropped
Till his breathing had stopped
(Mr. Jones surely bought the whole farm)
In the 60’s we made love not wars;
Peace rallies were easy scores;
Hashish and Mesc were the loot,
A few hits, they’d show tits, didn’t give a hoot,
It was no challenge to get in her drawers.
Mini Woodstock’s happened in fields of farms;
Free love required no charms;
We showed those “old timer” haters,
No need to be masterbaters,
Open air orgies presented no harms.
If it felt good, do it. And salute-
the burning flag while en route-
to watch the woke burn their bra,
And then engage in menage a’ trois,
The dawn of feminism?What a hoot.
Here’s my scheme it was simply divine:
(I tried to be very benign)
“I have stolen your loot
I am very astute
It was easy; I did it online”
(bank robbery)
corrected and revised:
George Orwell was terribly dour;
He felt that the world had turned sour.
He wrote “Animal Farm”
To raise an alarm
And warn against pigs taking power.
Now I am playing the lute
I am no longer playing the flute
I can’t get it right
So hold on tight
And really I don’t give a hoot
Mr. Pan was half-goat, not half-coot,
And played music on flute, not on lute.
Started he hurly burlies,
When he chased after girlies.
Let’s say his sex drive was acute.
Dumb Frank who was planning to loot
The bank but was not real astute
Gave his whole gang a bummer
And prospects much glummer
But it gained him a nice new striped suit.
The composer “Sir Mozart Von Cleethe”
Made all of the flute players seethe
So they took up the lute
And they cursed that damn brute
Did this genius know flute players breathe?
A pirate who died in Dakar
Lost his booty at cards in a bar.
Giving up all that loot
Made his chest pains acute.
Sadly, no one there knew CP arrrr.
acrostic
S ure was easy; we swiped all the loot
(T omatoes, and cabbage and fruit)
E ating fiber was fun
A nd when we were done
L eft the table to have a good toot
The prez is an ignorant brute
An orangutan stuffed in a suit
He, for all of his days
Seeks unwarranted praise
But I’ll give the one-finger salute.
En route to a shoot in Beirut
Newt heard two youth on a lute.
“I used to play flute,”
To the two youth bragged Newt
But the lutists did not give a hoot.
The pigs on the farm got their mail
Seems the mys’tries at “Strange” are on sale!
They just couldn’t wait
Cuz those books are so great
And they love a real good twisted tale
correction of previous limerick
The composer, Sir Mozart Von Cleethe
Simply made all the flute players seethe
They just cursed that damn brute
And took up the lute
Did this genius think flutists don’t breathe?
A robber named Jesse James Borters
Ran into the mint, screaming orders:
“Give me all the loot!”
Til he fell down a chute
And was horribly sliced into quarters.
A horny cheese farmer named Jay
Would shtup his poor cows every day
The cows would start chewing
When he started spewing
But it never got in his whey.
Some farms up in east Minnesota
Grow wheat for a subsidized quota
The poor are not fed;
The crop’s burned instead
And the farmers don’t care one iota.
Couldn’t get that damn truck into gear
(A lady like me has such fear!)
Farming isn’t for me
So I asked my “Sweet Pea”
“Could you unload that corn, my John Dear?”
So you think your town sheriff’s astute?
Well, then why’d he waste time in pursuit
Of a dude who just looked
Like a guy they’d once booked
While the true crook made off with the loot?
Those livestock may need to rethink
Their plot to escape from the clink.
Breaking loose would require
Dodging miles of barbed wire,
As they can’t underneath it just slink.
One person I wouldn’t salute,
Notwithstanding he’s after the loot,
Is Trump, who seems tied
To the immigrant tide
And is acting like old King Canute.
You won’t hear a farmer complain
They’ve a credo they always maintain:
“If yer not feelin’ right
Do not get uptight
Cuz a beer will cure any ‘ole pain”
Damn toxins get right to the root
And damage the veggies and fruit
So on Earth Day we tried
To just throw them aside
And a worm gave a grateful salute
The heist of all times used a chute.
Dan Cooper they’re still in pursuit.
Intrigued with the mystery
We privately hope he
Forever absconds with the loot.
Oops.
The heist of all times used a chute.
Dan Cooper they’re still in pursuit.
Intrigued with the myst’ry
Some privately hope he
Forever absconds with the loot.
A farmer’s hot daughter named Jan
Has amorous times in her van.
On one given day
Any number can play,
With straw-drawing part of the plan.
My Dad is a masterful plower
And nothing can make this man cower
He is also real clean
Has a special routine:
A garden hose for a good shower
We went to steal all of the loot
And planned our strategic pursuit
But on Facebook, dumb Frank
Said, “We’re robbin’ the bank”
(He’s not what you’d call real astute)
modified version of a previous limerick
“E-mail To Low-Tech Savings and Loan”
My scheme was just simply divine
It was flawless with perfect design:
I have stolen your loot
I’m extremely astute
It was easy; I did it online
“Cow Meditation”
My farm is my “love” and my home
But I own a weird cow named Jerome
He is very religious
And strangely prodigious
And all he can udder is “OM”
“Cow Meditation: Part 2”
My farm is my “love” and my home
But I own a weird cow named Jerome
He wears a white toga
And practices yoga
And all he can udder is “OM”
Farming on an industrial scale
Has a trick that never will fail.
Get the thing up and running,
With the subsidy coming,
Then flick it in a very quick sale.
Being boss is a bit of a perk
As you can farm out the work,
And if it goes wrong,
You can shout loud and strong,
And blame it on some other jerk.
If you want to have extra clout,
Don’t do all yourself, farm it out.
You then have the perk;
“Many hands make light work”,
That’s much more effective, no doubt.
The Ayatollah will not salute
The President, but will dispute
His mental facility,
And temperamental fragility,
All along while thumbing his snoot.
(a modified limerick) “Farming Essentials” (L5)
When seeding, you must wear old clothes
You’ll get dirty, but that’s how it goes
And make no mistake
Don’t forget a good rake
And it’s crucial to bring along hoes
correction of pronouns of previous limerick
Saw a produce truck speeding en route
And I’m sure it contained stolen loot
But the thief was real hot
Kinda’ hit the right spot
And he had real nice low-hanging fruit
My cow Sally is filled with much gloom
In the farm, Sally needs her own room
She is very dyslexic
And quite anorexic
(So frail, even can’t udder “OOM”)
My farm was becoming a joke
Competition was making me broke
So I sold it to Stu
A real sucker who
Didn’t notice the pig in the poke
With one look; she will render men mute.
Why is that? Well she’s stunningly cute.
And she’ll squeal with delight,
When a man’s pants grow tight
From his sudden strong urge to salute.
Got rid of my old nasty pig
He was rank and disgustingly big
He harassed all the hens
Mauled them right in their pens
He was just a male chauvinist prig
Ev’ry time that I spot Farmer Pete
I run to his truck for a treat
He feels very secure
Cuz he always makes sure
That his doggie rides “shotgun front seat”
The current Limerick-Off ends tomorrow, Saturday, at 10 pm (Eastern time.) So please get your limerick stragglers in.
“Symphonic Brain Freeze”
I must give my hands a salute
My brain just forgot “Magic Flute”
Then my fingers went walking
And did all the talking
And rescued my tuneful pursuit
A house of so-called ill repute
Saw its business go straight down the chute.
Seems the rooms were unclean,
The girls surly and mean,
The libations extremely dilute.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 325. Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Screen.