Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: DOPE at the end of any one line (Submission Deadline: August 15, 2020)
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 DOPE 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 LOVE, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best LOVE-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 August 16, 2020, 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, August 15, 2020 at 4:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my DOPE-rhyme limerick:
Wear a mask, please, and don’t be a dope.
Yes, it may be annoying, but cope.
Start now, and don’t wait;
You already are late…
And it also won’t hurt to use soap.
And here’s my LOVE-themed limerick:
“I’m in love,” said a gal to her mom.
“My boyfriend is great. He’s the bomb!”
But her mother replied:
“No, he’s conned you and lied;
He’s been featured in Sleazoids.com!”
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, Covid-19, Dating Humor, Dating Limerick, Daughters Humor, Health & Medical Humor, Health Limericks, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Love Humor, Masks Humor, Mothering Humor, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
My wife said, Hey, how ’bout a grope?
But me, not being a dope,
Could see right through
Her scheme. It’s true.
Twas my wallet she wanted. No soap.
I’m coming down hard from the dope.
Don’t bother me, please. I can’t cope.
I’ve smoked up my hash
and I’m fresh out of cash.
If things get much worse, I’ll drink Scope.
While rounding The Cape Of Good Hope,
Bart oiled and extended his Scope,
But, he slipped (too much rum),
The said tool up his bum,
And discovered such thing as a dope!
Donald ducks, when on the rope,
His I.V. of choice is bleached soap,
His I.Q.’s the best,
He trumps all the rest,
Despite the plain fact he’s a dope!
My Doc showed his proctoscope,
I said: “Give me drugs, man, to cope,
That’s really good “shit”,
For it prolonged my fit,
I recommend highly your dope!”
Apologies: omitted a word (“me”) from Line 1.
My Doc showed me his proctoscope,
I said: “Give me drugs, man, to cope,
That’s really good “shit”,
For it prolonged my fit,
I recommend highly your dope!
My boyfriend announced, “Let’s elope!”,
I scolded him, saying: “You dope,
Though kinky, contrary,
I’m still Sister Mary,
And shan’t be betrothed to The Pope!”
I would fall in love if I could,
A violet shrunk could be best bud,
My bi-polar nature,
Would need legislature,
To render my plight understood!
A note, in (brotherly) LOVE, to the Portly Bard.
Ah, Dear Portly, a word in your ear.
Your remarks were most gracious, mon frere.
I do hope you read this
For I fear I’m remiss,
So, I’ve posted the last one and here.
Oh, to love thee! I’m counting the ways.
Let’s begin by removing your stays.
Then these damn petticoats!
What? You women want votes?
We’ll get ‘round to it – one of these days.
Blue-nosed Vinny’s the man with the dope.
If he says it’s sure-fire, then it’s oke!
Sure, he missed that one time,
But forgive, that’s no crime;
And with Vin’, no one ever goes broke.
They do say, don’t they, that one should lead by example? Read the above and draw your own conclusions. (Ho hum!)
Blue-nosed Vinny’s the man with the dope.
If he says it’s sure-fire, then there’s hope!
Sure, he missed that one time,
But forgive, that’s no crime;
Because Vin’ don’t employ the soft soap.
Dope by example.
A masterful recovery?
Blue-nosed Vinny, of whom I have spoke,
If he says it’s sure-fire, then it’s oke!
Sure, one time the poor dope
Slid down slippery slope;
But since then? No one ever goes broke.
Looming dread when I think about dope.
Dee’s begun at the end of her rope.
So, when Sjaan does his thing,
And Suzanne starts to sing …
We’re all headed for Slippery Slope!
I’m trying for Runyonesque, so … (Sorry Suze!)
Dead Cert Vinny’s the man with the dope.
If he says it’s sure-fire, then there’s hope!
Sure, he missed that one time,
But forgive, that’s no crime;
Dead Cert Vin’ ain’t the man to soft soap.
I suggested, “Why don’t we elope?
All we’d need is a good length of rope.”
But my love had a fit;
Said, “Sod off! You half-wit.”
Which, apparently, means I’m a dope.
Ooh! Is that a twofer?
I suggested, “Why don’t we elope?
All we’d need is a good length of rope.”
But my love had a fit;
Said, “Sod off! You half-wit.”
Which, apparently, means I’m a dope.
This was not the response I had hoped
And for many a day, yes, I moped.
Then, Eureka! A plan.
And I knew just the man.
She’ll be much more compliant when doped.
I suggested, “Why don’t we elope?
All we’d need is a good length of rope.”
But my love had a fit;
Said, “Sod off! You half-wit.”
Which, apparently, means I’m a dope.
This was not the response I had hoped
And for many a day, yes, I moped.
Then, Eureka! A plan.
And I knew just the man.
She’ll be much more compliant when doped.
My fiancée was ever the tope,
So, I had great success with the dope.
It was when she came round
That we travelled new ground,
And since then … no, not even a grope.
A Twofer?
I’ve decided life offers no scope
To a cack-handed, squinty-eyed dope.
Luck and love both elude
This unfortunate dude;
Man, a life without nookie! Who’d cope?
The Doctor was far from a dope,
But he’d almost abandoned all hope,
For the President’s brain
Had gone missing again …
It was found with a large proctoscope.
Yes, of all of the gifts life bestows,
One excels all the others. Suppose
That Life left you estranged,
Would you not be deranged?
If you never know love, son, who knows?
My uncle did not give up hope
Of wedding my aunt. He’s no dope.
He called Grandpa a deer,
And just why became clear
When Grandpa let antelope.
Though it pains to admit, I’m a dope.
What on earth can it mean, ‘Proctoscope’?
So, I probed in the dark
And saw light. What a lark!
Do I need to probe further? Oh, nope!
He knew it was love at first sight;
A vision so perfect and right.
And what would inspire
Such unchecked desire?
Trump’s mirror – his source of delight.
I used up a whole bar of soap
When making a slippery rope
It was vital, you see
As it hung from a tree
To deal with a world-famous dope!
The victim just wasn’t a dove
So he had to be sent with a shove.
The branch was so strong
That nothing went wrong
It’s just not a job that I love!
We’ve all watched him lie, steal and grope
For years. Will he change now? No hope.
If you think that he’ll get
Any better, I bet
There’s a bridge I can sell you, you dope!
I don’t think I’m being a dope
For having a smidgen of hope.
That moment we face,
We’ll reject and replace
By telling the G.O.P. “Nope!”
My “hubby” sure has lots of quirks
To be honest, he’s one of those jerks
But he’s got lots of money
Lets me cheat with my “honey”
And that’s why our love affair works
A kindly young woman named Hope,
Fell in love with the very first dope,
He treated her crummy,
And was terribly scummy,
So she washed him away with some soap.
The commander-in-chief is a dope.
His incompetence gives me no hope.
He brags of “his people”
But his boasts are so feeble
By now just an old tired trope.
A young kid, I felt like a dope;
They’d joke about “souls filled with hope”.
With bath tubs and church,
I was left in the lurch;
Especially “holes filled with soap”.
He handed her his written love letter,
He thought “that’s the way that I’ll get her!”
A naughty limerick he included,
She snorted, “you’re deluded,”
And walked away saying, “I can do so much better.”
Me and Maggie
Fell in love with a pretty girl, “Mag”
Always helpful, and never a nag
But now we are through
And I surely was blue
When I found out she cheated at Tag
I think that love is kind of stupid,
The mascot is a naked baby named cupid,
The whole thing will start,
With an arrow through the heart,
If you survive, you’ve often been dupe-id.
Rewrite…
He gave her his written love letter,
He thought, “that’s the way that I’ll get her!”
A naughty limerick he included,
She snapped, “You’re deluded”
And added “I can do so much better.”
Rewrite:
I think that love is kind of stupid,
The mascot? A naked baby named Cupid.
The whole thing will start,
With an arrow through the heart
If you live, you’ve often been dupe Id.
True love at first sight overtook
Me; I drooled and I gushed and I shook
But now that we’re wed
Should have used my damn head
And taken just one more quick look
I think this one’s better:
True love at first sight overtook
Me; I drooled and I gushed and I shook
But now that we’re wed
Think I’d rather be dead
Should’ve taken just one more quick look
The cops said, “This guy was a dope”
Told reporters, “He just couldn’t cope:
He was takin’ a shower
Then started to cower
And got strangled with “soap on a rope”
When a person addicted to dope
Goes cold turkey, there’s reason to hope
That this agonised soul
May, with love, become whole,
And discover a life with more scope.
One who chooses to make his career
In proctology, is, I do fear,
The epitomised dope!
Tools of choice, proctoscope,
Clamps and scissors, to bring up the rear.
“Darling mine, I confess I am hoping
That you’re down with the thought of eloping.
If that isn’t the case,
I’m afraid we must face,
The alternative, dear – I am doping.’
“Love, I think, is much more than a grope,
And of having your way using dope.
Sending flowers is a must –
A sure sign it’s not lust;
If you think in these terms, then there’s hope.”
“If you’re sure that you want my advice?
I’ll endeavour to keep it concise.
I suggest, avoid dope,
If you mean to elope;
Quite apart from the cost, it’s not nice.”
A good thing made better?
It may be when you choose a career
In proctology, motive’s unclear.
You epitomised dope!
Tools of trade, proctoscope,
Clamps and scissors, to bring up the rear!
Love – A cynic’s-eye view.
Love and folly are cinema tropes
That turn great hulking chaps into dopes.
For the sake of some skirt,
Guys, so easily hurt,
Are misled into raising their hopes.
They’re persuaded that love is for real,
That the gold-digger isn’t a heel.
They think they’ll be happy,
And so become sappy,
All convinced that they’ve found their ideal.
Love – A Cynic’s-Eye View
Love and folly are cinema tropes
That turn great hulking chaps into dopes.
For the sake of some skirt,
Guys, so easily hurt,
Are mislead into raising their hopes.
They’re persuaded that love is for real,
That the gold-digger isn’t a heel.
They think they’ll be happy,
And so become sappy,
All convinced that they’ve found their ideal.
The reality check comes too late,
Now betrayed, they succumb to their fate.
Some join legions foreign,
Others, liars, will feign
That their lives are still rosy, but hate.
If forewarned is forearmed, well and good.
You will now be on guard, as you should.
When that winsome young bint,
Bats her eyes, that’s a hint
To hightail it and hide in the wood.
While ignoring the positive slope
Of Covid infections, a dope,
Said, “Covering faces,
in public places,
Will just make the president mope.”
Seven dwarves, one of which was a dope.
One was tetchy, one dozed, one a tope. (He drank – hay-fever)
One was smart, one was shy,
One was happy, know why?
‘Cause Snow White had just given him hope.
Seven dwarves, one of which was a dope.
One was tetchy, one dozed, one a tope. (He drank – hay-fever)
One was smart, one was shy,
One was happy, know why?
‘Cause Snow White had just given him hope.
Dopey’s visage was tragic to see.
He said, “Snow White was promised to me!”
“No, I think you misheard.
What she said was, ‘My word!
That’s a sight for sore eyes – and so wee!’”
“No! I’m madly in love with Snow White,
And if need be, I’ll put up a fight.
Three feet tall I may be,
With a manhood that’s wee,
But the passion I feel gives me height.”
I wish I was less of a dope
That way there would be far less rope
to hang on my words
that keep dropping like words
When I try clever and end up in trope.
Or, The ‘Disney’ Ending
Seven dwarves, one of which was a dope.
One was tetchy, one dozed, one a tope. (He drank – hay-fever)
One was smart, one was shy,
One was happy, know why?
‘Cause Snow White had just given him Hope.
Hope, you see, was the friend of Snow White,
Liked old men with long beards and low height.
Seems the lass was beguiled
When the happy dwarf smiled,
Much to Snow White’s and Dopey’s delight.
The Real Life ending. (Sorry Suze. Just read the last.)
Seven dwarves, one of which was a dope.
One was tetchy, one dozed, one a tope. (He drank – hay-fever)
One was smart, one was shy,
One was happy, know why?
‘Cause Snow White had just given him hope.
Dopey’s visage was tragic to see.
He said, “Snow White was promised to me!”
“No, I think you misheard.
What she said was, ‘My word!
That’s a sight for sore eyes – and so wee!’”
“But I’m madly in love with Snow White,
And, if need be, I’ll put up a fight.
Three feet tall I may be,
With a manhood that’s wee,
But the passion I feel gives me might!”
The ensuing fracas took its toll.
Dopey, maddened with grief, took a stroll.
It was much later learned
That he no longer yearned,
As he’d given his heart to a troll.
Mad, in ‘A Cynic’s-Eye Vie’, please change ‘mislead’ misled. (Wasn’t paying attention.) Thank you!
*****
Done.
“I love you.” he said with a sigh;
“Of course it’s insane, but let’s try.”
Rebuffing his plea,
She was asked “Is it me?”
Alexa: “Nope – some other guy.”
Grandma’s cottage was perched on a slope,
where the weeds were way wild beyond hope.
There, a Big Bad old hound
wolfing sweets by the pound,
giggled, “Grandma, your brownies are dope!”
I’m a sapiosexual gal.
If you’re dumb, you can just go to hell.
If YOU want to love me
Then YOU have to shove me
With proof that you’re brainy as well.
Found a shrink cuz I just couldn’t cope
He said, “Not to worry; don’t mope
Please take my advice
It’ll make you feel nice:
Do not mope. There is hope. Just smoke dope.
better
Found a shrink, cuz all day I’d just mope
I told him , “I’ve lost all my hope”
He said, “Take my advice
It’ll make you feel nice:
Do not mope. There is hope. Just smoke dope.”
I fear for me there is no hope
I am a confused stupid dope
Full of shame and sad remorse
A cowboy who has lost his horse
Or did l simply find a rope.
A homophobe just couldn’t cope.
He said, “Marriage equality? Nope!
Wedlock’s just,” he’d aver,
“For a him and a her.”
There you have it, my friends: the straight dope.
“It’s ‘the love that dare not speak its name.’
Those who sin are condemned to the flame!”
Is that brimstone I smell?
It’s our version of hell
That the whole GOP thinks the same.
Ooh, Suzanne! You’ve gone up in my est’.
Sappysexual women are best.
They come primed to detect
What is cloaked by defect,
And are known to take care of their chest.
Please file under ‘Love’.
I must file under ‘love’? What a sneak!
Do you plan on conversing all week?!
Hijack MAD’S page with crap?
(Though I do smell a trap)
So your chance of that happ’ning are bleak.
Due to Covid, I’d simply lost hope.
But then Drumpf said to turn on to dope.
“With enough hash or speed,
All your cares will recede.
And injection’s the best way to cope.”
“My dearest, my darling, my sweet.
With you, my life would be complete.”
“Lord, don’t be a dope.
For you, there’s no hope.
And to think so’s an utter conceit.
And to see me no more I entreat.
Now be fleet on your feet down the street.”
I shall rise above that one, Suzanne.
As a sapiosexual man,
I can see there’s no hope,
So you see, I’m no dope;
Though I’m smitten, I’ll follow your plan.
Than a man on the scrapheap of love,
Is there anything sadder? The shove?
Out of nowhere it came –
And I know who’s to blame;
The conspirators worked hand in glove.
Poor Tony…
I was harsh and I did criticize
But monopolize THIS page? Not wise.
Others’ entries would be
Lost and drowned in a sea
Of our love repartee we’d devise.
Other folks may be miffed that we are
A bit selfish to take this too far
But some curious dope
Might just hold out some hope
Of what lurks in our love repertoire.
So I guess a few more words can’t hurt
But let’s not remove pants (or my shirt!)
Though I sound like a nun
We just might have some fun
I must say though, you’re ONE bloody flirt!
It’s most hard when your hopes she inflates.
And then all of a sudden, she gates.
So, I’m making a stand,
Lest this get out of hand,
And I’ll brook no demurs or debates.
I have done what I can to pitch woo;
Now I find myself dumped. What to do?
I’m a man with a heart –
This is good for my art –
So, I’ll suffer. Now, over to you.
But before we sign off, dish the dirt!
Tell me more of this buttoned up shirt.
Come on, Suze! Dish the dope –
I’m tied down with strong rope;
Casanova himself couldn’t flirt.
And PS, not a photo in sight!
I am left to imagine what might …
Don’t mistake, I can DREAM,
But I’d truly esteem
Something saucy – no sleaze – to delight.
If you wish, I can be on my way.
If it’s over, I’ll call it a day.
Love is fragile, I know,
And needs nurture to grow –
And a willing abandon in play.
When we love, we have passion, not lust,
Which engenders respect and builds trust.
Passion swells as love grows –
For one reaps what one sows –
And endures till we’re turned back to dust.
I have suffered enough, so I’m back,
And I’ve come to reclaim what I lack.
But to show I’m no dope,
And, of course, while there’s hope,
I will learn from the past and change tack.
May I ask what your hobbies are, please?
I know baking – and don’t include tease!
Are you classy, refined?
How’d you like to unwind?
Would you say you’re a woman at ease?
Correction to previous submission.
Due to Covid, I’d simply lost hope.
But then Drumpf said to turn on to cope.
“With enough hash or speed,
All your cares will recede.
And injection’s the best way to dope.”
When I think about “love at first sight”
I knew I had found Mr. Right
I shall never forget
When our eyes quickly met
Even better, he don’t even bite
Love and Dope
Do not walk in circles and mope
Find love; it will give you great hope
Though “head over heels”
Comes with many ordeals
So keep a real good stash of dope
NOT A CONTEST ENTRY
RE: SUZANNE HEYMANN
TO WHOM IT MIGHT CONCERN:
Being sapiosexual means
she’s in search of IQ in your genes
(to make sure you’re no dope
and your ego can cope)
before physical groping convenes.
To prompt “Sapio Suze” to contrive
any chance for romance to arrive,
get a grip on your chore
she will open no door
til you’re rhyming line four in line five.
File under WISDOM.
A lonely old shepherd once shouted,
“I love love! And I won’t do without it!”
He especially loved girls,
the ones with tight curls,
and refused to feel sheepish about it.
Greetings, Portly! So glad you dropped by.
It’s a shame that by nature, you’re shy.
Thanks for dishing the dope,
But I think I can cope;
So, you can’t muscle in, but nice try.
Where Suzanne is concerned, I’ve a plan,
I am wooing as soft as I can.
Of course, Dee may intrude,
Shouting, “What the hell, Dude?”
In which case I’ll withdraw for a span.
File under, “Growling at Portly.”
Second stage growling. (Comes under the ‘All’s fair in love ..” heading)
En garde, Portly! My weapon of choice,
Is a well-trained, mellifluous voice.
It charms birds down from trees
And brings oafs to their knees,
And has oft given cause to rejoice.
Tell me, how can you be such a dope
As to think you could vulgarly grope
The ass of that lass—
And be given a pass,
When you heard her distinctly say “nope!”?
I have never been lucky in love,
‘Cause I always make guys wear a glove
When we fuck, but that pisses
Them off, so my “Miss” is
A status unlikely to shove.
Just why do I love her? (That’s tough)
The reason is easy to bluff
But the truth is much better
From the moment I met ‘er
It was clear that we hate the same stuff
I said, “Write her a love sonnet, chum.
Family saga in verse? She’ll go numb.
Though your lim’ricks are cute,
I doubt she gives a hoot
that your Da and Da’s Dada were dumb.”
I asked my hot lover boy, Drake
“Do you feel our affair’s a mistake?”
He said, “No my dear
Let me make something clear:
I love you like Chubby loves cake
It’s a while since I smoked any dope.
Even longer since I had a grope.
With this lockdown in place
I’ve been sunk without trace;
But I still haven’t given up hope.
My heart throbs when I think of Suzanne.
I have urges and yearnings – Oh man!
She will doubtless reply,
“’Fore I give you a try,
I need signed guarantees that you can!”
“Gosh, that’s harsh! Are your hopes now dissolved?”
Not at all, it’s a problem soon solved.
I must prove, once employed,
That I’ll work when deployed,
And that chemical aids aren’t involved?
Very fair when reviewed from her stance.
Should she weaken and give me my chance,
And then learn, oh, how sad,
That I’m no Jack the lad,
But a worn-out old knight with no lance.
But on that score, I need not misgive.
Though no lance, I can muster a shiv.
Plied with tact and finesse,
And the lady’s largesse,
She’ll have memories she’ll want to relive.
Come, Suzanne! I have set out my stall.
I stand ready and wait for your call.
Don’t delay! Beat the crush,
Or get killed in the rush;
Now it’s game on – and winner takes all!
Love it, Sjaan. Keepin’ the old country ways alive, eh?
With love, there should be no remorse
When first married, you’re happy, (of course)
But please keep in mind
Find someone who’s kind
And strongly believes in divorce
An artist, a pompous old dope,
To bright colors has firmly said nope.
He’s a bore to his core
And his work is a snore.
His new painting: “A Study in Taupe.”
Those who love say they’re cruel to be kind,
But look closer! I think you will find,
They rehearse the, “Our pain
Is the greater,” refrain,
But they’re lying! They really don’t mind.
‘Love Story’ for the bitter and twisted and cynical. I’m ashamed to post it – almost.
When in love then no ‘Sorry!’ is said.
You pretend to forgive her. Instead,
Store the slights, till they’ve built
To a level where guilt,
When disclosed, can crash down on their head.
Mad will explain.
When you write about love, best avoid
Any reference to ‘throb’, lest, annoyed,
Or incensed by the term,
Which has made the SPAM squirm,
Your attempt to amuse ain’t deployed.
Men have hearts, and do handstands and twirls;
We’re susceptible, same as you girls.
But a man takes hurt deep,
That’s why some turn to sheep;
Well, it’s that or those tight, woolly curls.
Oh, that love were an easy affair!
What I mean is … Oh, shucks, you’ve been there.
Ups and downs, hot and cold,
Then unravel, then fold.
Go ahead! Fall in love – if you dare.
Oh, to sing by the light of the moon;
To make women undress, love and spoon.
Casanova, Don Juan …
I could be the new Juan;
All I need is tight tights, and to croon.
I believe there is “love at first sight”
And for you, I have seen that bright light
For me it’s sure true
Do you feel that way too?
Or should I come back here tonight?
Poor Tony is searching for nookie
But can’t locate a willing cute cookie
Perhaps with good dope
He would have some more hope
Though he might find himself with a wookie.
I really should learn to say, “Nope!”,
Cuz, now I just feel like a dope.
Gave the doc my consent,
So inside he went,
With his gas powered, new proctoscope!!
Oh, Dear Sjaan, you must think me a goof!
It’s no wonder you’re keeping aloof.
I’m bereft. Such a tool!
You’re a girl – I’m a fool!
I thought Sjaan translates Sean, with no proof.
Dearest Sjaan, play again, don’t be coy.
I’ll behave – no I will – my best boy.
We’ll eschew talk of lust,
Won’t refer to your bust;
And who cares if it’s dull and lacks joy?
Dear Ms Sjaan, be my playmate again!
In a non-Play-Boy way – you’ve a brain.
I don’t mean to suggest,
You’re not great when undressed …
This is hopeless – I need to retrain!
I have made my appeal. Give me hope!
I’m a man at the end of his rope.
You may think, “Good! Go hang!
I don’t care – not one pang!”
It’s a very harsh end for a dope.
Mad, this is better. Please delete the one above. Thank you.
I ejaculate – always too soon.
I’m impulsive and ever the loon.
Guys like me are a trope –
In the films – we’re the dope
Whose remarks are most inopportune.
I was told when I got past my prime,
My lovebido will slow in real time.
Total crap! What a dope!
Have I slowed down? Whooaa! Nope!
Thanks to Mad and the girls, it’s in ‘climb’.
As a senior, I must learn to cope
So I take all these pills to have hope
I remember a time
When life was sublime
And I merely subsisted on dope
Cynical ‘Love Story’ better last line. Please delte the first, Mad, when convenient.
When in love then no ‘Sorry!’ is said.
You pretend to forgive him. Instead,
Store the slights, till they’ve built
To a level where guilt,
When disclosed, will unman him in bed.
I am smart and I know how to cope
I refuse to be slothful and mope
To exist on just air
Is surely not fair
And that is my reason for dope
Revised Limerick
When I think about “love at first sight”
I know that I found Mr. Right
I shall never forget
When our eyes quickly met
And the best part of all, he don’t bite
Wedding Vow
Our lives will be e’er intertwined
And now I repeatedly find
That I’m floating on air
Precious love we shall share
(Common sense has abandoned my mind)
Sometimes I think I’m a dope,
For holding a sliver of hope.
Will Donald keep tweeting
And lying and cheating?
Are Catholics still led by the Pope?
I won’t say that I’ve given up hope.
Or I’m numb and can no longer cope.
But til Trump goes away
I’m planning to stay,
In a cave with my kilo of dope.
The weekend has arrived, and I hope
That my dealer has stocked up on dope.
All too oft’, when he’s low,
He’ll just go with the flow;
As a trader this limits his scope.
A truism men always follow
“Our love affair sure won’t be hollow
Unless she’s unkind
And changes her mind
And one day refuses to swallow”
Mad: above limerick:
Could you please change “My love affair sure won’t be hollow” to “Our love affair sure wont’ be hollow (L2)
Thank You,
Lisi
****
Done
All alone in his car, the poor mope,
with his sandwich and day’s horoscope,
thought, ‘Great wealth lies ahead!’
and the prophecy said:
“Today you’ll have lunch with a dope.”
The cruel lack of the feminine touch
Knocks the best things in life from one’s clutch.
For a chap, once disowned,
Leaves his techniques unhoned;
Well, there’s no hope of lovin’, as such.
Love in the 21st Century.
What a beautiful concept – ‘elope’.
For Jane Austen a meaningful trope.
But a joke for today
They’re all banging away,
And at best, dads are living in hope.
The girl told her friend in disgust,
“It’s hard to find men you can trust.
Not heeding Mom’s warning,
I learned the next morning
That love’s not the same thing as lust.”
When pursuing a sordid affair,
Covid makes love hard to share.
So when I show you mine,
Over here is just fine
And you show me yours over there.
It is better to love and be blue
than to never have loved….Oh so true.
Though I’ve paraphrased badly,
I make this point gladly,
as long as it’s me dumping you.
For tracking who killed the inspector,
Her Dad, whom she loved, I respect her,
Though, sadly bereft,
She worked and she slept,
With double o 7 in “Spectre!”
Slight adjustment. (Sorry.)
For hunting who killed the Inspector,
Her Dad, whom she loved, we respect her,
Though, sadly bereft,
She’d gladly have slept,
With Double o 7 in “Spectre!”
My Doc took the oath of Hip-poc-rat-es,
Don’t ‘axe’ me, for I know not what-it-is,
His pal, Dr. Hope,
Prescribed me some dope,
For fungus, name of Zy-go-MY-cet-es!
Poor Tony…
Does my long absence make me a jerk?
Not at all – I’ve done overtime work.
I’ve now earned lots of money
No time for a honey
My schedule’s funny, berserk.
She’s back now, this li’l Cinderella
To banter with that Tony fella.
I’ve got news that might bruise
You may choose to drink booze.
When you cry, I might use an umbrella.
You’re a romeo two-timing fool.
You have broken the true lovers’ rule
You have flirted with Dee
And Sjaan, and then me
Thats where I don’t agree that it’s cool.
B. A. Dragon my friend said it best:
You’re just looking for nookie and breast.
I’ve expressed that you’ve messed
Up, your quest failed the test.
You’re depressed and distressed and obsessed.
You’re romantic but not very loyal.
My passions can’t help but recoil.
It’s quite evidential
You’ve lost the potential
To gain some credentials you spoil.
To Portly Bard… I’ll file under”Clever”, as “Wisdom” is not quite an accurate description of your smarts… yet.
Portly Bard, seems to me that you’ve caught it
Very few have been able to spot it!
I’m impressed that you’ve guessed
The ‘Line four in five’ test.
If my love is your quest, then you’ve got it!
When love comes to an end a man’s hope
Takes the fast lane down Slippery Slope.
No ripe bosom to hand,
No good reason to stand;
He gets by on cheap whiskey and dope.
Oh, Suzanne! What a woman you are!
In your absence I’m well below par.
How I’ve missed you, my queen!
I don’t care where you’ve been;
I’m just glad that you didn’t go far.
Yes, dear Cinders, I flinched at your news.
The effect was far worse than a bruise.
I was stabbed to the heart,
And I own, it did smart,
But the errant knight braves and eschews.
And besides, there’s no solace in booze!
That is never the course I would choose.
I might hunt a wild boar,
For as long as I’m sore,
And if boars ain’t around, then gnus.
I’ve been weak. I confess. You are just.
I’m flirtatious by nature, but lust?
No, my feelings run deep;
I have no truck with sheep;
And I’m roused more by eyes than by bust.
Re the views of friend Dragon – I flout!
Such remarks I can well do without.
I’m wholistic. My quest?
Find a soul-mate – the best.
But you’ll listen to B. A., no doubt.
I am neither depressed nor obsessed;
For a minute or two, yes, distressed.
I am loyal to a fault,
So, your verbal assault,
Though deserv-ed, must be reassessed.
A romantic? I s’pose that I am.
I’m a Capricorn goat, not a ram.
We aspire to the best,
True to form, I won’t rest
Till I’ve proved I’m for real, and no sham.
I shall hope that your pash will spring back;
I’ll be ready, and this time, on track.
You’re the girl of my dreams!
(Count them up, I wrote reams),
And however it SEEMS, I won’t tack.
(Eat your heart out, Portly)
Sooo, friend Dragon, you’re ‘burning’ my boats
With your highly inflammatory quotes.
Are you fanning the flame?
Is my downfall your aim?
I thought dragons were quite fond of goats.
Oh, pshaw! What an ass! It’s not goats.
You like donkeys when grazing your oats.
Ass or donk’, I’m the choice;
I’m a donkey with voice;
But Suzanne’s staked her claim, so, no votes!
I hope you’re payin’ attention, Portly! I’m not alludin’ just for the fun of it, you know. (Actually, I am.)
When the wallpaper’s love affair grew
With a wall, it then said, “This is true:
Though you have a big crack,
I’m not taken aback.
And I still have designs on you.”
The wallpaper’s feelings weren’t new.
After all that the two had been through,
Deep in love it did fall,
So it said to the wall,
“I admit that I’m still stuck on you.”
Lovistotle the great foremost sage
Said, “Fall for a man of old age
His eyes will be weak
But for you he’ll still seek
And forever you won’t disengage”
And another thing I can’t condone,
Teasing Portly. You leave him alone!
With your three line-end tits –
Poor ol’ Port’ will have fits!
It’s no kindness to give him a bone.
For Suzanne – just in case that wasn’t clear.
2016
The Donald claimed, “Now there is hope
Although some people call me a dope,
Always give me much praise
And remember my phrase
“Let’s make all America grope”
Portly’s reading of Suzanne’s limerick – possibly. (Please file under observant)
Portly Bard, seems to me that you’ve— ‘Cor! Tit!’
Very few have been able to— ‘Spo Tit!’
I’m impressed that you’ve— ‘Breast!’
The ‘Line four in five’ test. (Oh, behave! That would be obsessive)
If my love is your quest, then you’ve— “Go Tit!’
Poor Tony…
How dare you so mock! You repel us!
And why are you nasty? Please tell us!
Your demeanor is brittle
You’ll get no acquittal!
I think you’re a little bit jealous!
If I want to throw Portly a bone,
Thats my business, so leave me alone!
He’s not at all spiteful
In fact, he’s delightful
But you! You are frightful, you’ve shown.
So make no bogus claims of true love.
You’re a meanie when push comes to shove.
Just quit digging a hole
Like a desperate mole.
You must show you’re a soul from above.
Dear Suzanne,
In the spirit of fun, you’ve admaonished me once or twice – harsh was mentioned in one, but this time, given the content, I don’t dare respond until I know if I have, somehow – and quite unintentionally – or haven’t given offence. I would be deeply upset to know that I had, as, I believe, all our exchanges have been intended to amuse. How could it be otherwise?
A period of reflection has resulted in my thinking that i have possibly been a — and a —- to boot. (I leave you to fill in the blanks in your own inimitable style.) So,
I have read in between every line;
I’m in search of your meaning – some sign?
I don’t mock or belittle;
And I’m sturdy, not brittle,
So, I don’t understand. Why malign?
Who said ‘throw’? I wrote ‘give’; think again!
Faced with tits at each turn, like a chain,
Portly may, or may not,
Find himself on the spot,
But was bound to get HOT under strain.
I’m with you, he’s delightful – a prince,
And if you wish to dally … but since
You hold me to the mark,
You’ve no case when I bark;
And no ‘plaint if my feelings evince.
I’m not mean; I don’t push, dig or shove,
And regarding my soul from above,
Read the lines set below –
Take your time – read them slow!
Then decide, should I GO, or make love?
When we love, we have passion, not lust,
Which engenders respect and builds trust.
Passion swells as love grows –
For one reaps what one sows –
And continues until we make dust.
She’s in love, with her eyes full of stars;
He’s obsessed with his beer and fast cars
And the sports that he sees
On his wide-screen TVs.
That all fits, because men are from Mars.
‘Twas a marriage from Hell — beyond hope.
She was hateful. Worse, he was a dope.
With the clues all spelled out,
why did nobody shout
when Phil Anthropist wed Miss Ann Thrope?
No worries, Tony. And I take no offense to anything you posted, as I’m aware it’s all in fun. I find that people enjoy being entertained by soap opera type scenarios because they like to see the bickering and drama that goes on between couples. I’m just doling out the same, but I might put an unexpected twist in it at some point.
That’s a relief, Suze! Does that mean your next response is iminent? I hope so – and I accept your apology. LOL
PS: I have one or two faults, but watching soap operas isn’t one of them. Probably why I didn’t twig. X
PPS. Does B. A. have anything to say for herself? X
Oh, well, if you’re going to go with the obivous, Sjaan …
(Please imagine being ironic wink emoji)
Tony, I don’t understand. Say what?
“Move over,” we hear Donald gush.
He wants his face carved on Mt. Rush.
The thought that he’d hope
They’d include such a dope
Makes George and the other three blush.
I thought that your latest post was very clever, particularly the last line, but being me, I preferred the back-handed compliment. i.e. that it’s the complete opposite of obvious. (It’s a British thing, although, typically, the Greeks had a word for it. ‘antiphrasis’.) LOL X
NOT A CONTEST ENTRY
To Suzanne and Tony —
How endearing to hear such amends
— loving truce as it were, between friends —
but I hope no more prose
will be used to compose
all those knots you propose for loose ends.
Hi,Tony– Thanks for the clarification. I feared you might be telling me that the pun was so rotten that it needed an emoji to deodorize it. Sometimes I just WANT a certain rhyme to work, and, even if it doesn’t, I push it out the door anyway. Here’s the ‘thrope’ alternative I threw away:
Angry Ann at the end of her rope,
said of her fellow man, “He’s a dope!”
On her deathbed she hissed,
“Glad I’ve never been kissed.”
She died smiling, did old Miss Ann Thrope.”
No need to respond to this note. You may be too tempted to say that I should have thrown BOTH away.
(Btw, I’ll be looking up ‘antiphrasis’ for future reference,
but with the hope that it’s not Mad’s next rhyme word).
*******
From Mad: LOL! I had to look up antiphrasis myself.
Confession: So did I. I knew that there was a word – and that it described what I was doing – because I do peruse my, ‘Garden of Eloquence’, now and again; but I couldn’t remember its name.
And as for commenting on your efforts, I shall be very surprised if you aren’t crowned for the one you did post, for which I obviously have the highest regard, hence my compliment, so no need to be quite so hard on yourself.
In addition to everything else, you demonstrate admirably what can be achieved by revision once you’ve got the idea caged.
And don’t worry about Mad using ‘antiphrasis’ for the next rhyme word – she probably can’t spell it.
The thing that’s worrying me is Ye Portly Bard steaming in to inform me that what I did wasn’t antiphrastic at all, but something else equally Greek.
Watch this space. LOL XX
PS Please file under ‘Trepidation’ or ‘Paranoia’. You choose.
PPS. Sjaan, never throw anything away! Once you’ve created it, give it time to grow. You just never k … Sorry, Suze, I couldn’t do it.
Love is gentle, forbearing and kind;
When you’re naughty, it tends not to mind.
It’s inclined to excuse
Everyone – but not Suze!
Blow on blow upon BRUISE – Love ain’t blind!
In that first flush, Love smiles at your quirks;
Later on, still indulgent, it smirks;
But the end is in sight
When the quirks start to bite,
As the dopamine no longer works.
To love in the ‘old-fashioned’ way
One abandons finesse and foreplay.
Get it over and done –
No, of course it’s no fun!
But it’s better than NONE, I would say.
“We’re in love! Don’t go countin’ the cost!
I’ve a plan, luv, so all is not lost.
I’ll put you on the game –
Which, I grant, is a shame –
Just for now, till our stars is uncrossed.”
South Dakota may be beyond hope
‘Cause Her Honor the guv is a dope.
Bikers shelter at home?
That’s absurd, says Ms. Noem.
They’ve a death wish? She’ll hand them the rope.
He got up and asked her to dance;
The start of an epic romance.
Years later, they still
Get a musical thrill;
That song keeps removing their pants.
Don’t tell me I act like a dope!
I’m really just trying to cope
With this pandemic stuff.
So I’m calling its bluff.
Unmasking that hoax is my hope.
Oops! Mad could you please change line 4 in my posting above to read:
“So I’m calling its bluff;”
Thanks, Dave
********
Done
The young fiancee must whimper and mope
Because her true love is a profligate dope;
This was the right time,
But he hasn’t a dime,
And without any money they canteloupe.
I’m unloved and can no longer cope.
As we’re not allowed guns, try a rope?
Drink and drugs were no use;
Now I’ve got no excuse;
Goodbye world! Ouch! Wrong knot! Useless dope!
It’s a bit dark, isn’t it? Can’t think where it came from. Must be your ‘soap opera’ influence reaching out, Suze. (LOL X)
Poor Tony…
Am I the one causing you grief?
Well then let’s make this quick, keep it brief
Just jump off a tall
Giant building, that’s all,
With a parachute; fall like a leaf.
You’ll be news, and your fame shall soon spread
And the gals will line up at your bed
Let them do an audition
You’ll find what you’re wishin’
Your suicide mission is dead!
And if THAT won’t help get you your chick,
A big billboard should then do the trick!
Advertise! That is how!
With no sweat on your brow
And voila! You may now take your pick!
I respond – in brief!
To make mock of a man in his woes
Is the lowest of lowness, tha’ knows.
I am Tarzan sans Jane –
Go ahead – kick again!
When one has fiends like you, who needs foes?
Parachute? Ha, ha, ha, no ripcord?
You’ll be telling me next, “Use your sword.
Scars are sexy – get stabbed.
Once sewn up, you’ll be grabbed
By some female who’ll care ‘cause she’s bored.”
Advertise! Are you putting me on?
Do you think it will work? “Oui! C’est bon!”
True, the cost might be high …
“It’s no time to be shy!
If it works, the conclusion’s foregone.”
Polyamory could be the way.
There’d be me and ten girls – way, hey, heey!
“It’s quite legal, of course?”
I’m just checking my source.
If it ain’t, then I’m jumpin’ – okay!
The man thought his outfit was dope
Circus clothes worn from a tight rope
Laughter was all he heard
Wished that he was a bird
To fly away an not have to cope
Poor Tony…
Now, don’t get your snot in a knot
Good advice like mine cannot be bought.
You know, sympathy’s faint
A solution it aint
So renounce your complaint (just a thought!)
So what else did you want me to say?
If I’d known you’d lash out in dismay,
I’d have told you instead,
“Oh dear Tony, don’t dread
Love shall come to break bread if we pray!”
Amen.
I respond – addendum.
You’re quite right! It is written, ‘A wife
Is a gift from the Lord.’ And for life!
Cockneys, known for their quips,
And for unloading ships,
Call the lady their, ‘Trouble and strife.’
I shall take this to heart, and we’ll see.
Who’s to say, I might favour-ed be?
And be sure, if I should,
I’ll work hard and make good;
But I’ll still fantasise about thee.
This blather is running amok;
To “love’s” lost and found – take a walk!
Mad’s site is for laughs,
Not these lonely heart gaffes
That really belong in a crock.
It’s a shame, Dave, you haven’t more wit.
It might save you from writing such foolishness.
Take a note: Love’s the theme
So, this blathering stream
Is on track, and compliant, you silly fellow!
It’s a game played for fun and to hone
Writing skills, so, please, leave us alone.
If our efforts don’t please
Just ignore. It’s a breeze.
And if that doesn’t work, gnaw your bone.
There once was a lover named Victor
Who said to a gal as he licked ‘er:
“I’ll know I’ve done right
If your quake of delight
Scores an eight on the measure called Richter.”
She was pretty and clever and bright
And I wondered if I possibly might
Have a chance of romance
Or would she look askance?
She said yes, and our love’s turned out quite right.
Oh Tony…
Oh Tony, I love how you roar!
You’ve defended my honour, and more!
Maybe Davey is sad
Jealous too, I might add
He just might not have had love before.
DOPEY LOVER:
My wife bathes in bubbles of soap.
She’ll soon be quite frisky I hope.
I’m waiting in bed –
She shakes me instead,
“Oh, wake up! You’re dreaming you dope!”
Sadly Trump cannot cope,
As a result he’s having a mope.
His problem’s with showers,
“You have to be there for hours
To get wet.” Gee, what a dope.
There are none so blind as those will not see,
Take the fat, whose problem is dietary.
So how do you cope
With folks who’re a dope?
Do you tell them, or just let them be?
What I don’t feel from you, is the Love
That exudes from your God above.
If demonstrates your Faith
I’ll remain as a waif
And for Heaven I’ll not grovel nor shove.
What I thought was love was just lust;
Not, “I’d like”, but “I must!”
When I came down to earth
And saw her true worth
My “True Love” soon turned to dust.
You may think you’ve got Faith in spades,
But from you it’s Love that evades.
I think you may find
It’s Fear of some kind
Shown by the Anger that through you pervades.
You talk of Love, but it’s Lust,
Burning hot, then turns to dust.
If it’s not satisfied
It’s defeated by Pride
And is not a Love you can trust.
He was the love of my life
And I’d endure no trouble or strife…
Damn! I didn’t see
That he’d turn out to be
Not wanting me for his wife.
Kids, you may one day discover,
What came between me and your mother.
No matter I tried,
My attempts were denied,
As she’d flit from one love to another.
Most Buddhist’s, Christian’s and Moslem’s aren’t
Applying to love their chosen slant.
Jew’s too, have missed the boat
With their favourite, “God’s Chosen” quote,
As to love one another, they can’t.
We like to think we have made it
Having fortune amassed and displayed it.
Spurred, ‘twould appear
By both greed and fear.
Of compassion and love? Betrayed it!
Though nails through my hands and my feet,
You people I’d like to entreat,
To love your foe
As a friend that you know,
And in love and in harmony greet.
If you want to sing praise your Lord
And sing to his son adored,
Don’t sit in a room
Singing hymns out of tune,
Display your Love all abroad.
My marriage is bound by frayed cord
That unravels as points are scored
From the twice daily spat
Of vile tit-for-tat,
There’s no hope that love be restored.
All those songs of Love are not.
To call it Love is simply rot.
Lust and greed,
Procreative need
And by that need besot.
True Love is not a burning flame,
A unity in passion’s name.
True Love is cool
Not Nature’s fool,
That’s just a mating game.
I must confess, Suzanne, that I woke this morning half expecting a note from Mad along the lines, “Now, now boys! Play nicely!” I had my response ready, of course. “Please, Miss, it were ‘im, Miss. He said ‘blather’.”
Sad and lonely – and desperate – like me?
If he is, I should much kinder be.
I shall tender a cheek,
As a sign that I’m meek;
Better still, make a nice pot of tea! (The British answer to everything)
You have honour!? Why wasn’t I told?
I’m ashamed now, for being so bold.
Half a mo’ – it’s a joke!
I can’t laugh, I might choke;
For a minute there, Suze, I was sold.
I’ve just noticed, you said there was more.
More of what, Suze? I need to keep score.
I remain in the dark,
So, the shift is in ‘Park’;
I’m aflutter to know what’s in store.
Hey, B. A.! Sorry to be so slow responding. You must have sneaked it in when I wasn’t looking. LOL
And for your information, B. A.
Wookie playmates are great in the hay!
True, their pillow talk sucks,
But those cuddles – deluxe!
And their love adds a certain cachet.
What ho, Portly! I’m sorry I’m late.
And so glad that you’ve joined the debate.
I’ve been meaning to ask –
Please don’t take me to task –
Do you nip from a flask while you wait?
Dearest Portly, I trust you are well?
In your absence, I’ve no way to tell.
Do you need to divest?
Get a load off your chest?
Inundated with bosoms? That’s swell!
I refrain from repeating the plea –
You recall, line abreast, there were three?
I shall take it amiss
If you don’t share your bliss;
It would be most remiss, believe me.
A Portly Entry …
It was nice of Ol’ Port’ to drop in.
He appears, like a friendly shaolin,
Spreading wisdom abroad –
That’s abroad, not a broad;
Watch! Suzanne thought she’d scored – and herein.
The refrain of the average Joe.
What is Love? Will I know if it hits?
Will I tremble and faint, and have fits?
Does it last very long?
Will I burst into song?
Oh, good grief! Will you look at those tits!
PS to my reply to Suzanne.
And just keeping the record quite straight,
I’m not getting much lovin’ of late.
Not before and not since;
Any less – these are hints –
There’s a chance I might never reflate.
Sorry, P B, but it had to be done.
Always nice when Old Portly wafts in.
He appears, like a cuddly shaolin,
Spreading wisdom abroad –
That’s abroad, not a broad;
Watch! Suzanne thought she’d scored – and herein.
Love – true love – is the product of time;
It is nurtured and nourished. Sublime!
Love can never be rushed;
It’s too easily crushed,
And, yes – sir – it costs more than a dime.
When Biden picked Kamala Harris,
Their ticket said “none to compare us.”
Now President Dope,
At the end of his rope,
Finds new ways to auto-embarrass.
NOT A CONTEST ENTRY
In response:
To Suzanne —
Rest assured I’m sufficiently wise.
I know writing when seen I should prize.
I am simply amazed
when it’s cleverly phrased
as the humor is raised to my eyes.
You so flatter a man of old age
simply seeking to see if as sage
he could render advice
to engender the splice
of two poets enticed to one page.
Let me say I’m in awe of your style
and the way it will draw me to smile
as the message you send
with the rhyme you extend
is replayed in my craw by your guile.
Repartee you display and abide,
using rhyme you’ve so ably applied,
puts you well on a roll
so incredibly droll
that I suffer the toll in my side.
————–
To Tony —
Because gamely you tried my advice,
giving sway to the line rhyming twice,
dismissing aspersion…
I’ll silence aversion…
while I pray one more thought will suffice.
Though you find by your wit women bare…
any feeling you’ve lit with your flair…
all your humor so glib
merely tickles the rib —
up your game just a bit…and you’re there!
I think this is best filed under ‘All’s fair in Love and Portly …’
What a fool … how on earth …? I’ve been blind!
You licentious old goat! You aren’t kind!
Sucking up to my girl!
You unscrupulous churl!
Now the scales are removed, I’ll rewind.
Oily, sneaky, malign and depraved!
And to appetites nasty enslaved.
Posing shyly as mage
In the hopes you’d engage –
It was having your way that you craved.
All the while you were plotting your scam.
Thought you’d use me for teasing my dam.
Let me get her worked up,
Then waltz in for the tup;
Well there’s no loving cup, you old ram!
In addition to all the above,
You can’t count when a push comes to shove.
Re your helpful advice,
Look again! It rhymes thrice –
As in trio and mice, my old love!
Oh, that I could have been so deceived!
It’s small wonder that I’m so aggrieved.
Draw a line, that’s my plan;
I’ll forgive – when I can.
One must love fellow man – not be peeved.
I feel better now that’s off my chest.
Always bracing to give of one’s best.
Have I tickled your rib?
Do you still think me glib?
I’ll resharpen my nib – if I’m pressed …
That was fun. Shall we do it again?
Stimulation is good for the brain.
As Joe said, “Pip, what larks!”
Let’s let fly some more sparks!
There’s still time, if you aren’t under strain?
Last week, I thought, “Boy, what a dope”
(I’m not using “a dope” as a trope)
In the course of my skiing
I was shocked I was seeing
A sign that said, “Risks On This Slope”
My “hub” had become a real dope
He was gentle, now won’t even grope!
I just can’t survive
I’ve left him cuz I’ve
Tied a knot at the end of my rope
While gathering rosebuds one day,
a young maiden heard one fella say,
“I’m getting the hunch
it’s about time for lunch.
So how ’bout a roll in the hay?”
At the White House one laundress, poor dope,
pinned large undies (unwashed) on a rope.
So beset by the quand’ry
of Trump’s dirty laundry,
she had used up four years worth of soap.
The boss told me, “Please do not sweat it
You’re hired there’s no need to fret it”
He said, “You’re no dope”
And he gave me some rope:
(One whole minute to see if I get it)
Love hearts flowing in the air
No one said that love was fair
So many grabbing at hearts
Touching their chest, making marks
They’re chancing love like it was a dare
Be honest, and then you’ll find love
Never lie to your sweet turtle dove
Thus, if you can fake it
You surely will make it
And be in like a hand to a glove
Honesty: The Best Policy For True Love
Be honest, and then you’ll find love
Never lie to your sweet turtle dove
Thus, if you can fake it
You surely will make it
And be in like a hand to a glove
My lover-boy, wow! did he burrow
You would think he’s erecting a furrow!
He said, “Babe, I’m not lewd
I’m the kind of a dude
Who’s always real detailed and thorough”
True love, to a major degree
Is amnesia, and that is the key
Cuz you can sure bet
When in love, we forget
There are 10 million fish in the sea
So dear Tony, although you allure,
You are Shakespeare on steroids, for sure.
All the others must say,
“You two lovebirds, stay ‘way!”
Don’t know HOW much more they can endure.
We have already hijacked Mad’s page
And I don’t want to stoke up her rage.
I found it sublime
To speak with you in rhyme
But let’s limit our time on this stage.
When he said, “My love, let us elope!”
She recoiled a bit, couldn’t cope.
Very rich was that bloke
But so ugly, she’d choke
So she solved it by smoking some dope.
Why do gold-diggers use looks to buffer
Their greed? They’re just making life tougher.
Dont they want love that’s true?
Are their hearts in the loo?
I don’t sympatbize; do hope they suffer!
All she met was just jerk after jerk.
She’s a magnet for losers – a quirk.
I heard ‘law of attraction’
Will bring satisfaction
But takes constant action to work.
Meditation’s supposed to help, too
In finding a love that is true.
She procrastinates much
And does not have that touch
Nor desire to clutch someone new.
Hi Mad – in my Biden/Harris posting above (yesterday 3:02 pm), could you please change the first word in line 2 from “His” to “Their” because after all, it IS their ticket!
Thanks, Dave
********
Done.
We know Trump’s a destructive old dope
He has given this country no hope.
Though I poop like a pigeon
On phony religion,
I’d rather be led by the pope.
You’re about to go on a hot date
You ate garlic – oh no! It’s too late
To get rid of that breath
Don’t let love meet its death –
Just drink half of a bottle of Scope!
Getting lucky in love is a gift
For the wondrous ways it can shift
Souls formerly lost
Into eyes that are crossed;
While more than one heart gets a lift.
Is it better to love and to lose,
Than never to have loved, dearest Suze?
I suppose it might be;
Time will tell; we shall see;
If you must, you must flee – leave tissues!
Is Mad, mad? That, indeed, would be sad.
I had hoped that our games made Mad glad.
It was not long ago
That the entries, so low,
Made it four in a row – that WAS bad!
Advertisement! I’ve steroids for sale!
They work best for the poet who’s male.
I’ve now more than I need,
Since my muse has agreed,
I had best run to seed – she’s made bail.
To be loved is the ultimate high –
I’m just stating my case. Don’t ask, ‘Why?’
Ask the pop stars! They’ve said,
“Love songs make lots of bread.”
Though a few are now dead, they don’t lie.
I am tempted to shout, “Donald – Duck!”
But in all prob’, he don’t give a fig
That he’s number one dope.
He’s the Pres’! He will cope.
But he won’t be much longer – with luck.
Mad, in the above, would you change ‘say’ to ‘shout’, please. Thank you!
********
Done.
Contest deadline today is 4 PM eastern. Please get your stragglers in.
That driver is way beyond hope;
Tailgating a cop – what a dope!
Now letting him pass;
Will he step on the gas?
Blue lights and a siren say “Nope.”
The music I love is the Blues;
So many great artists to choose.
There’s B.B. and Buddy,
Then way back to Muddy;
While Clapton keeps lighting the fuse.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 450. Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Sight.