Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: SPELL or DISPEL OR MISSPELL at the end of any one line (Submission Deadline: November 21, 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 SPELL or DISPEL OR MISSPELL 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 CONFESSIONS, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best CONFESSION-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 November 22, 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, November 21, 2020 at 4:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my SPELL or DISPEL OR MISSPELL-rhyme limerick:
A pickpocket, locked in a cell,
Describes it as “nitemarish hell.”
Now the skell’s penned a book;
Hopes to sell it by hook
Or by crook. But the schnook just can’t spell.
And here’s my CONFESSIONS-themed limerick:
A fellow confessed he was bi
To his wife, who replied “I won’t lie;
I’m upset.” (Her tears flowed.)
“So here’s what I’m owed:
A three-way with you and your guy.”
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: Battle of the Sexes, Bawdy Humor, Bisexuality, Competition Limerick, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Marriage Humor, Marriage Limerick, Poetry & Prompts, Sex Humor, Writing Prompts
“Please bless me, O Father, I’ve sinned,”
he said in a voice like Paul Lynde.
The priest pulled back the screen
and said “Have I seen
you somewhere before?” as he grinned.
Said a Catholic, “My sins come in shoals,
And they stop me attaining God’s goals.”
At Confession he said
That he farted in bed.
So do I,” said the priest. “Bless our souls.”
Cath’lic priests expect YOU to confess
Then they just might absolve you and bless;
Yet they seem to escape
Any charges of rape
And we can’t cut red tape of this mess!
A confession box is a dumb place
Where it does no good hiding your face.
Its a fact-finding mission
That needs no magician
For voice recognition, to trace!
I’m a witch and I’ve cast a dark spell
On the idiot cheetoh from hell.
Just don’t bother to quiz
‘Cause that carcass of his
Will be hauled to a prisoner’s cell.
Biden’s victory ought to dispel
Any fears upon which you might dwell.
Just breathe, ’cause the scary
Man’s gone, so be merry!
The air has a very sweet smell.
Now that Rump has been sent back to hell…
Oh, oopsy, did I just misspell?
I don’t think so; I’m right!
That big ass, day and night
Always had a bad shite kind of smell!
Oopsy Mad, in the limerick above (8:22 p.m.), I realized too late that line 1 is supposed to end in ‘dispel’, not ‘dispel now’. Would you be so kind and remove all the ‘nows’ from lines 1, 2, and 5 please? Thanks.
******
Done.
Now just watch the Republicans cower
And abandon trump in his last hour
They’re too scared to confess
That they’ll no more obsess
Kissing butt of that mess with no power.
A traveler lost in a blizzard
encountered a powerful wizard.
It didn’t end well;
the wizard’s foul spell
transformed the man into a lizard!
Old Merlin ain’t feeling too well,
“This brewing of leeches is hell.
Dismembering toads
Is disturbing me loads,
I think I’ll lie down for a spell …”
Does a woman, when casting her spell,
Take account of the imminent swell?
Does she leave lots of room
For his manhood to bloom?
I’m assuming of course, she can tell.
Seems confession is good for a soul.
I, for one, have gained much on the whole.
I confessed what I’d seen
To my dad and Darleen,
And they added some cash to my roll.
Mad, would you add a ‘b’ to loom in the fourth line of the limerick posted 11/8 at 7:53am, please. Thank you.
***
Done.
“Would you like to confess” was her query
“About what?” I asked, suddenly wary
“About you and my sister –
I know that you kissed her.”
“You’re WRONG -that was my SECRETARY!”
Goodbye, Donald ‘Lame’ Duck!
I confess I am proud that, by wit
And derision, I, too, did my bit;
During four years, I’m sure
That my limericks galore
Must have helped to get rid of that shit.
He’d been cursed by a spell, and it showed.
“Turn me back to a Prince, like I’m owed!”
But the spell went amiss;
The electorate’s kiss
Turned the frog to a poisonous toad.
Trump has lost! Bloody hell and damnation!
I confess, though I’m pleased for the nation,
I cannot see how
I’ll write limericks now –
Where on earth will I find inspiration?
True Fact: A confession, other than something you did, can also be something
you want to do: (a thought in your mind)
“Forgive me, my sin is a “wanna”
I wanna to feel up that girl, Shawna.
She sure is a looker,
And built like a hooker.
I wanna, and so I am gonna”.
This may not be a subject for jokes,
But I’m one of a whole bunch of folks
Who’d be pleased if a spell
Turned the Leader from Hell
To a frog… and won’t mind if he croaks.
“Please forgive me, and let me explain.
I “tossed off” I just couldn’t restrain.
What a wonderful pleasure:
(A magical treasure”)
“Say a prayer, Boy, we’re all into pain”
Oh mommy, I think I’m unwell.
Feels like Satan has cast a bad spell.
“Not to worry, my dear,
Just have one kid each year,
Or your life will be one bloody hell “
Ooops! I’ve just realised that in the limerick before last, although I used ‘spell’ twice, I forgot to use it as a rhymeword! Bother!
*******
from Mad:
LOL! Blame it on all the election excitement.
I have a confession to tell;
All night I’ve been casting this spell:
“Bobbidi Bibbidi
Statutes of Libbidi —
Trump lawyers don’t raise holy hell!”
Hi, I’m Rick; I’m a limerickaholic.
Through these fun little verses I frolic,
Neglecting my wife
And all else in my life.
(These poems are so damn diabolic!)
As I lie awake nights, I confesses
I’m not counting sheep, only stresses.
Is that line “da da DUM”?
Will the rhyme to me come?
All my lims seem meandering messes.
Is there help somewhere, ‘fore I just drop?
I feel like my brain’s gonna pop.
So I must get away,
At least for one day.
(What the heck. Just one more. Then I’ll stop!)
(Here’s a new version. I prefer the first one, but this at least uses the rhyme-word as a rhyme!)
He’d been cursed by a spell, and it showed.
“Turn me back to a Prince, like I’m owed!”
But the blue-voting swell,
Far from breaking the spell,
Turned the frog to a poisonous toad.
I call, um, the powers of hell…
I can never remember this spell!
To mix up the potion
which way is the motion?
And how many tolls of the bell?
I used to be “Miss Prostitution”.
I feared very grave retribution.
I confessed to The Father.
He said, “No need to bother;
I always give sluts absolution”.
Mad: above limerick, Line 4: Can you please change, “He said, Babe don’t bother. to He said, “No need to bother”
Thank you,
Lisi
***********
Done.
True: My mother always gave me “lessons” (of course, with love)
This was one of her lessons from the 50’s:
When young, I was given strict lessons.
I called them the “Sunday night sessions”
Mom said, “Always say “please”
“Do not be a tease”
And God said, “Don’t read “True Confessions”
Priests must sublimate all their aggressions
And give up almost all their possessions.
But their job has one perk:
In the booth, they can jerk
Off discreetly to kinky confessions.
One word I routinely misspell
Is the proper noun “Madduhmoyzell.”
Native French speakers hiss
At my substitute (“Miss”)–
But it covers my deficit well.
They confessed…
Vote twice, said Donald, vote twice.
His fans complied, voting thrice.
In person, by mail
And one sure not to fail,
A mail ballot stolen by vice.
I have a confession to make
About liberties that I do take,
But in my defence,
It’s just recompense,
As your snoring, it keeps me awake.
If you want to be a success,
Lie, cheat and never confess.
It pays to start small
To practice your gall
And be confident under duress.
If you follow what you are taught
With no original thought
I have to confess
You’ll never progress
And your life will all be for nought.
There was a young lady named Jess
When questioned, she always would guess.
Though she was smart,
She was lazy at heart
And wouldn’t learn, she did confess.
There once was a man from Shoreditch
Whose wife was a Wiccan; a witch.
She’s always casting a spell,
She’ll scream and she’ll yell,
In short you could say she’s a bitch.
“1992”
I remember that year very well.
Those Blue Jays did truly excel.
Bush said, “Read my lips”
That was one of his quips.
And Vice President Quayle couldn’t spell.
Call The Doc’
“Take twice daily! In time, they’ll dispel
The delusions – the terrors, as well.
Then come see me again
And we’ll see if he’s sane;
But just now, it’s too early to tell.”
There once was a bastard named Trump,
a dark universe Forrest Gump
who put us through hell
tell we all broke the spell.
Now we countdown to the final dump.
My darling, I have a confession:
I’ve misled you about my profession.
The times that you’ve said
I’m amazing in bed?
I usually charge for a session.
I remember my skool days so well,
When lunch was anounced by a bell.
We’d sit in a grupe
Sharing alphabet supe.
And that’s where I lerned how to spel.
Jewish non-confessions at holiday dinner
Your Mama will never confess
That she’s wearing her new half-priced dress.
Or, “Those matzah balls are
Stuff that came from a jar,
Cuz who wants to deal with that mess?”
I’m outside in this terrible storm.
The temper’ture’s way below norm.
In this very cold spell,
I’m still feelin’ well,
Cuz my hot flashes make me feel warm.
As the snow’s coming down and abounds,
It’s causing such very high mounds.
In this freezing cold spell,
I’m not feelin’ real swell,
And the snowman has gained 50 pounds.
Mad: above limerick: L5
Could you please change, “Yet the snowman has gained 50 pounds” to
And the snowman has gained 50 pounds.
Thank you,
Lisi
**********
Done.
The Bishop said: “Hear my confession …”
The priest wore a puzzled expression.
“But why cume to me?”
Said the Bish, “Well, you see,
It was YOUR wife who caused my transgression.”
The Donald was tearing his hair.
“Who did this? Own up if you dare!
Stick your hand up, confess
You’re the one caused this mess!”
Five million shot up in the air.
It’s so hot here, (100 degrees).
For a moment, I wish I could freeze.
Cuz we’re having this spell,
Have you noticed a smell?
It’s me breaking wind, just for a breeze.
@realdonaldtrump is a fake.
Not a man but a mouse is my take.
He’s under some spell
He’s an ever-do-well,
When in fact he’s an olden-time rake.
“It’s a game – no, you guess, I don’t tell,
Where I am from the way I misspell.
-our is -or; -ight is -ite;
-yse is -yze – yes, that’s right!
Or should that be rite? Let’s not dwell.”
His confession, complete and concise,
Not coerced, but against all advice,
Was a model of Pace.
Now he’s likely to face …
A long lecture on how to be nice.
“I don’t know why I ran, I confess,”
Mused Don Con; “lack of knowledge, I guess —
If I’d known I would need
Both to think and to read,
I’d have never agreed to say yes.”
An enchantment pronounced by a witch
Is now making the President twitch —
Oh, wait, that was no spell;
That was us! And “twitch”? Hell,
He’s just SHAKING, the sonofabitch!
My teacher said, “I’m not amused;
Our language, you sure have abused”
My phone bid farewell,
Cuz I always misspell.
Even “auto-correct” is confused.
a very slight modification (L2 and L5)
My teacher said, “I’m not amused
At this language you’ve rashly abused”
My phone bid farewell,
Cause I always misspell.
Even “auto-correct” was confused.
We live as if under house arrest
It’s a Kafkaesque life, I suggest
Like we are serving time
For an unspecified crime
To which we’ve supposedly confessed
(true story)
All my life, folks would always misspell
My first name. They’re so dumb! Bloody hell!
For some reason, they’re choosin’
To still call me Susan
It’s not so amusin’. Oh well!
But THEN! Leonard Cohen came along
And came out with a poem turned song
So now more people say
My first name the right way
Let them know ev’ry day they were wrong!
So Trump is what we must spell
For a person we hope to dispel.
He needs to be shown
How to leave alone
From the sump – that’s his name we misspell.
So we’re biding our time in the sessions
Which we hope will leave telling confessions
From G.O.P. and D.A.
That would be a great day
But not likely from present processions.
So it’s time for a new White House session
Which will start with a mammoth procession.
But you really should know
That you just must not go
Expecting an honest confession.
Cast an anchor, a line, or a doubt.
Cast pearls before swine, cast about.
Cast a shadow, a spell,
The first stone (but don’t tell).
As for Donald J Trump — cast him out!
Some foreigners try hard to spell.
Yet with plurals they’ll never excel.
If “mouses” are mice,
But “houses” ain’t “hice”
What’s the difference, and how can they tell?
They’re too much for mere mortals to handle —
Ceaseless lies and continuous scandal.
So for Joe to dispel
All these demons from Hell,
He’ll be needing a bell, book and candle.
It turns out he couldn’t spell
Not even his name simple Nell
Wore a dunce cap in his class
Told his peers to write him a pass
Boy, did they have a story to tell
He confessed, he was a thief
Who stole everything, even a leaf
When they saw he was a joke
he quickly, had to take a smoke
It gave him a sigh of relief
I noticed you’re very perplexed.
Calm down you should not be so vexed.
Each time you confess,
There’s no need for stress,
Cause your priest contacts God via text.
very minor correction (for meter)
I’ve noticed you’re very perplexed.
Calm down, you should not be so vexed.
Ev’ry time you confess,
There is no need for stress,
Cause your priest contacts God via text.
“As I watched Mrs Smithers undress,
I confess, I was under duress.
Were it not for the ropes
That now shackled my hopes,
I would leap to her side and transgress.”
A cop wandered into a session
Where a priest was in hearing confession
And said “Father, do tell
If you cannot dispel
All the rumors, admit YOUR transgression!”
There was blood from the floor to the ceiling
And the body was way beyond healing
The crimes, he’d reported
Of the mob, who extorted
So his life was aborted, for squealing.
“Mrs Smithers – she casts quite a spell –
Has strict rules. For one, no kiss and tell.
I’m assured, my duress,
Should I ever confess,
Would seem tame to her version of hell.”
“Yes, hypnosis. They say I regressed,
And while under, it seems I confessed.
Then the judge ruled, “Okay!”
And they put me away.
I’ll admit, I was really impressed.”
O Father, my life’s not fulfilling.
I obsess about things that are chilling.
I confess that I drink;
I can’t stop, cuz I think
I just may replace it with killing.
A synonym works very well.
For lim’riks, they surely are swell.
Just think of a word
(not the one you preferred)
Cuz the one you preferred, you can’t spell.
Said the teacher, “I’m trying to tell
You: that’s ‘F’! You don’t listen too well!
You don’t care what I say —
I write ‘F’; you see ‘K’!”
Kid grinned, “Ooooooh, what I got you to spell!”
O Father, don’t think this is bunk.
I’m misleading, and in a blue funk.
But it’s time I confess
I don’t really love Bess,
Yet I text her whenever I’m drunk.
That Halloween choc’late? Why, yes;
I scarfed down the whole lot, I confess.
I’ve been lying to you.
I’d have pulled it off, too…
If my face hadn’t been such a mess.
At the Apothecary
“Please sell me a love potion or spell –
She won’t marry me, she says I smell.”
“I sell them, but fear
The prices too dear.
How ‘bout soap and a fine muscatel?”
She invited me in for a spell,
A well-mannered belle, you could tell.
As we sipped her iced tea,
She first played with my knee
And then moved to the source of my swell.
So you think you’ve the power to bless?
When it’s YOU who should really confess
For not putting a halt
To the sexual assault
Hiding crimes in the vault you possess!
Trump will do it but never confess
That he’s leaving behind a big mess.
“If the ship sinks, boohoo!
I’ll make sure that all you
Will go down with me too then, I guess!”
“Yes, hypnosis. They say I regressed,
And while under, it seems I confessed.
Then the judge ruled, “Okay!”
And they put me away.
I’ll admit, even I was impressed.”
Said King Arthur to Merlin, “Do tell,
How this potion you write makes me well.
All these squiggles and exes —
Sir, nothing more vexes!”
That’s when Merlin confessed, “I can’t spell.”
(two in one)
If I could just cast one real spell
On the idiot-in-chief who’s from hell,
He’d say, “I must confess
Having made this big mess.
I believe I’d be best in a cell.”
“Alison” or “Allison” ?
Some Alisons have just one l.
While others have 2; both sound swell.
I don’t care, or object,
Cuz they both sound correct.
Unless mom and dad just can’t spell.
Said the raconteur: “Come, set a spell.
Here’s a story I’ve wanted to tell.
This young gal — such a dream! —
Slipped and fell in a stream.
So I spent the day wringing that belle.”
A lady who once was named Houston
Didn’t seem to know whose bed to roost in
Her tribe will confess
That it caused quite the mess
When her sisters’ men were her solution.
If you’re going to give it a go
Don’t do it with your sister’s beau
When they kiss and tell
You will never dispel
Those rumors descendants will “know.”
“I confess“ is a common expression,
that is quite often not a confession.
when it’s meant: “I agree”
(not “confess”), – don’t you see?
I confess it’s a minor transgression!
“I am all of a tremble: her spell
Must be working exceedingly well.
Nowadays, I’m not sure,
If it’s pill or allure,
But since everything’s working, why dwell?”
“The mysterious arts by which flames
Are ignited by spell-casting dames,
Should be studied to tell—”
“But might study dispel?
That would mean there’d be no fun and games!”
“As a wise man correctly opined,
Wisdom wisely sets bounds for the mind.
Knowledge running amuck –
Science will run out of luck –
And we’re no further forward, you’ll find.”
“There are some things much better not known.
Case in point, turning sausage to bone.
Reason bypass: it’s done!
Let’s get on and have fun!
You can study – I’d rather get blown!”
Someone here’s made an absolute mess!
Ate my sandwich, threw up on my dress,
Tracked in mud on my bed…
T.S. Eliot said,
“The cat knows, but will never confess.”*
*”The Naming of Cats,” by T.S. Eliot
“The mysterious arts by which flames
Are ignited by spell-casting dames,
Should be studied to tell—”
“But might study dispel?
That would mean there’d be no fun and games!”
“As a wise man correctly opined,
Wisdom wisely sets bounds for the mind.
Knowledge running amuck –
Science will run out of luck –
And we’re no further forward, you’ll find.”
“There are some things much better not known.
Case in point, turning sausage to bone.
Reason bypass: it’s done!
Let’s get on and have fun!
You can study – or play on your own.”
Sorry to repaeat, but I wasn’t happy with the ending.
Writing Lim’ricks ’bout Joe or that Other man,
I drink Beer, or a Wine, or a fine wee Dram.
Though the pleasure is swell
and I tend to misspell
I’m-not-the Thunkard that Some drinkle Peep I am!
Confession of intent?
“My, you’re all of a quiver!” “I am.
I’m in love with a lady called Pam.
She’s quite shy, but I’m bold,
And once inside the fold
She’s agreed to play ewe to my ram.”
Confessions: Update:
“I’ve been making some headway with Pam.
We’ve discovered the wonders of jam.
She preferred a conserve,
Once she got up the nerve.
She insists on the best, does ma femme.”
I Confess
If your pumpkin be gourd and not carriage,
And your prince (please don’t wince) you disparage;
When the step sisters yell,
And there’s no magic spell —
Sorry, Princess, we lied about marriage.
We will never see ex-prez confessing
To his 100’s of fails and gross messing.
Just more chitter chat
from the old Twitter twat
with his 101 English regressing.
Your fears I’d like to dispel
The election is my death knell.
There’s no greater crime
In all historical time
And the Democrats know it as well.
Trump, some things you’ve done very well
Though with Twitter you must learn how to spell.
For a more comforting stock
You should lose the Caps Lock
As it means you are starting to yell.
Global warming’s main cause, I must tell,
Is a myth I would like to dispel.
A prudent solution:
Let’s curb most pollution:
The hot air politicians expel.
I ‘went with’ a maid from the dairy
A big girl, all sweaty and hairy
I sought absolution,
The priest’s best solution?
A hell of a lot of Hail Marys.
We’ve nevva bin abel to spel
Itz just nott a fing we doo wel
Wile dickshunries bor us
To reed a feesorrus
Would bee jusst hour eye dear of Hel.
Put honey in tea, (yum), real swell.
It adds to the taste and the smell.
A tough job to create,
But honey tastes great.
(Yet how can those little bees spell?)
He’d booked the Four Seasons Hotel –
Or so he believed. What the hell?
A gardening store
With a sex shop next door?
Poor Rudy can’t read, wriie or spell.
A recipe (yum!) by Christine
Had “zookeeny,” and, worse, “oberjean.”
I’m not going to tell
Her to learn how to spell
When her knowledge of cooking’s so keen.
my teechers complaned I cant spell
punktuashun is louzy as well
still evrywun sez
i desserve to be prez
but joe byden has cheeted like hell
Another Thought For “The Honey One” (today at 12:33 PM)
Add honey to tea, yum! real swell.
It soothes if you’re sick, even well.
It’s tough to create,
But honey tastes great.
Yet how can those little bees spell?
Confession: News Flash:
“I have reached an hiatus with Pam;
She’s allergic to raspberry jam.
I misread when she gagged.
She got cross, fingers wagged,
And I’m back where I started, poor ram.”
He fell prey to her devilish spell
When they met at a sleazy motel.
His wife was quite galled,
So a lawyer she called.
(Now there was a demon from hell.)
No offense intended to any lawyers out there…
Said a writing class prof to a hottie,
“I like verse, I confess, to be naughty.
I have seen quite enough
Of your brainier stuff,
Now I’d like to see more of your bawdy.”
“Forgive me, O Father, it’s true:
I cuss, and I lie and I screw”
“Pay penance, My Son,
And when you are done,
A check, cash, or Visa will do”.
Response to Lisi’s verse above:
Oh good lord! Doesn’t THAT ring a bell!
If you’re poor, you are going to hell!
I bet YOU have no clue
They themselves lie and screw
“Pay!” applies just to you, for a spell.
The Hip Priest
A modern confession, at last!
It’s easy, and painless and fast!
Tell the priest, you did wrong,
Then he croons this new song
“Not To Fret, Son, Don’t Think ‘Bout the Past”
“Looking back on a youth much misspelt,
I recall every bossom I felt.
Every tipple induced,
Every maid I reduced;
Every crotch on a very long belt.”
A Twofer?
Un autre?
“There are times, I confess, I mis-smell.”
“And the outcome?” “Disastrous!” “Do tell!”
“Take the time I wrote, ‘whores’.”
“I recall. You meant, ‘chores’.”
“The suspicions have yet to dispel.”
Lots of cheese I did melt; I’m ruing it.
I was told I should start eschewing it.
Though I made quite a mess,
I must say, I confess,
That I really did have fonduing it.
Most certainly, I can sure tell
When so-called “brains” say they excel.
Are they just so naive,
That they really believe
That “spell check” can never misspell?
Rudy dying to meet the press.
Trump just brought out his big guns
The lawyers banging their drums
Bad dream, break the spell
Send Dems back to hell
But who has a case of the runs?
So you took a pig-in-a-poke
And ended up with a joke.
All his actions dispel
Any thought he’ll do well
And you may well see America broke.
Why do you still plump for Trump
When he’s just a self-serving grump
Who will never ever confess
That he’s made a big mess
As his administration explodes with a crump?
To all who think he does care,
Wake up and truly beware.
He’s got you under a spell
Others can see full well,
Shown every emotional flare.
Miss Prissy screamed, “You’re a disgrace.
Your whole essay, I have to erase.
You should learn how to spell!”
(Yet I spell very well
But the letters are in the wrong place).
The current Limerick-Off ends tomorrow, Saturday, at 4 pm (Eastern time.) So please get your limerick stragglers in.
In a limerick, watch as you spell!
When rhymes I type, each can repel,
Acrostically proving
Lines inwardly moving
Ever reek, I confess: karma’s smell!
In wizard school I have done well.
I’m super at casting a spell.
Though she barks like a dog,
And he croaks like a frog,
My Bubbie and Zadie’s still kvell.
Correcting a typo
In wizard school I have done well.
I’m super at casting a spell.
Though she barks like a dog,
And he croaks like a frog,
My Bubbie and Zadie still kvell.
You don’t have to be quite so formal
In staying that he’s not at all normal.
All you have to admit
Is he’s a stupid old git
An unpleasant septic mormal*.
*mormal, archaic, a bad sore or ulcer.
Mr. Trump, give up and concede
Before you cause some people to bleed
You’re trying to dispel
The fact you didn’t do well,
Well, you’re the last one we’d need.
I’m a witch, and my hexes are splendid.
On my broom, I have always depended.
Even though I excel,
‘Twas behind for a spell.
Cuz my broom flew away and rear ended.
better (L5)
I’m a witch, and my hexes are splendid.
On my broom, I have always depended.
Even though I excel,
‘Twas behind for a spell.
(I broke wind, in a blow, was rear ended)
“From here we go right to the SELL!!!”
Tweeted Trump (careful not to misspell).
“I’ve got tee shirts and hats,
I’ve got buttons and bats —
Or CHIP IN for a D C Hotel!”
(a two-in-one)
Confession is good for the soul
Said no one who IS an a–hole.
Though they’re fine for a spell
Inside Satan’s hotel,
They’ll still END up in hell shov’ling coal.
Mad: today at 12:06 PM
Instead of L5: “I broke wind in a blow was rear ended”
Could you please change that to: I broke wind in a blow, (got rear ended)
Thank You ,
Lisi
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 457. Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Bard.