Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: MODE/MOWED/COMMODE at the end of any one line (Submission Deadline: December 19, 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 MODE or MOWED or COMMODE 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 MARKETS, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best MARKET-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 December 20, 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, December 19, 2020 at 4:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my MODE/MOWED/COMMODE-rhyme limerick:
I failed to gain ground as I rowed;
When it’s windy and rainy this mode
Of transit is risky.
Boat’s frisky. Craved whiskey!
But mostly I longed to be towed.
And here’s my MARKETS-themed limerick:
I’m amazed when I see people graze
At the market, as if at buffets.
It is one thing to try
A sample, but why
Eat enough food to last them for days.
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: Boating Humor, Buffet Humor, Competition Limerick, Food Humor, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Market Humor, Poetry & Prompts, Rowboat Humor, Rowing, Writing Prompts
When Louis Quatorze played Miss Thrush,
At strip-poker ― he caused her to blush.
When her great pair was showed
He filled his commode —
And he won — ‘cos he had a Royal Flush!
Said our marketing man, “A sensation!
Our dildoes have thrilled the whole nation.
Why in South Delaware
We’ve the whole market share;
We’ve a hundred percent penetration.”
My trip to the market was fruitless
Also vegetable-, stem-, stalk-, and root-less.
They have nothing I need
But it’s still guaranteed
When I’m done with my shopping I’m loot-less.
At the market I asked “Do you know
if this turkey is non-GMO?”
The butcher replied
“Nothing’s been modified!
I asked him myself, he said no!”
My bladder’s about to explode,
But I can’t seem to find a commode!
I’m afraid I can’t wait!
….Oops – well – now it’s too late….
(Already, my pee pee has flowed.)
At fish markets, often, imposters
Can be found; they are really just mobsters,
Pretending to bid
On the tuna and squid–
When they’re just there to pilfer the lobsters.
“That’s a great deal on eBay”, I mused.
“Thirty toilet rolls – can’t be refused!”
But today, what I got ….
Well, I’d failed to spot
The description “Condition is: USED.”
The luxuriant Mrs Bulstrode
Stipulated her garden be mowed
Every week, “Without fail!”
So her resident male,
“Don’t get lost as his seed’s being sowed.”
Trump, in rebellion mode
Made sure that the seeds had been sewed
To stoke up the fire
Of those who admire,
The lies that he’s shamelessly crowed.
Mrs Bulstrode, luxuriant, decreed,
Lest her lover, while sowing his seed,
Should get lost, in love mode,
In the jungle Bulstrode,
That her garden be transformed to brede.
Van Gogh had his sunflowers. I …
I need food! How to get to the market?
By car? I’ll have no place to park it.
By bus? I’m too lazy —
Me? Bike?? Are you crazy???
I guess I’ll stay hungry… oh, fark it.
Advice: Don’t go to the supermarket when you’re hungry !
I went shopping today on a spree!
For breakfast, I only had tea!
I was starving; (went wild),
Like an uncontrolled child.
I’m the proud owner now of aisle three.
Ancient Roman, Commodious Crêpe,
Earned his salis by making things drape.
Togas, worn á la mode,
Made his fortune, and showed
That the Rom’s weren’t all pillage and rape.
Mrs Bulstrode, luxuriant, decreed,
Lest her lover, while sowing his seed,
Should get lost, in love mode,
In the jungle Bulstrode,
That her gard’ be made over to brede.
A refinement.
My goat sure knows how to kick ass.
Who cares if he ain’t got no class?
My lawn’s always mowed.
It will never erode.
Billy’s stoned, and just loves all that grass.
I feel like I’m gonna explode.
I ate too much pie à la mode
and I ate seven wraps.
Quick, get me a map.
Which way to the nearest commode?
There was something about him that glowed.
He was horny, and, boy! how it showed.
I said, “This can wait
I’m not feelin’ that great
And tonight, I’m just not in that mode”.
Back again to the jungle Bulstrode:
Seems worst fears are now fact, as forebode.
In the lush undergrowth,
Tam, a Scot from Arbroath,
Was last seen when in cunniling’ mode.
Tardy Constable Pettigrew strode,
Lest his lateness again incommode.
Just the thought, that his feet,
Could be pounding the beat
Was enough to make P pigeon-toed.
There once was a R. Giuliani
whose mind (like these rhymes) was real gone-y
and like a landscape, got mowed
down by COVID and stowed
while the deadpool cries out, “It is on-y!”
Addled alchemist, Archibald Spode,
Has moved on since the days when he glowed.
Older, wiser, less tense,
He’s revealed his good sense
By inventing ‘The Pleasure Commode’,
Which, in principle, functions like this:
“It massages while you take your piss.
Using ‘Area’ codes,
Engage various modes,
From, ‘That’s Better!’ to, ‘Absolute Bliss!’”
And now it’s a twofer.
Addled alchemist, Archibald Spode,
Has moved on since the days when he glowed.
Older, wiser, less tense,
He’s revealed his good sense
By inventing ‘The Pleasure Commode’
Which, in principle, functions like this:
“It massages while you take your piss.
Using ‘Area’ codes,
Engage various modes,
From, ‘That’s Better!’ to, ‘Absolute Bliss!’”
Market research suggests record sales
Among elderly ladies and males.
Samples sent out for trial
Have proved quick to beguile.
Anecdotal endorsement prevails.
With fashion-sense I’ve been bestowed,
(A picture should shortly upload).
My barber’s main style
Is ‘farm rank & file’
He says it’s all quite à-la-mowed!
As the nail on my pinkie ingrowed,
I endured it in agony mode.
It’s my own silly fault
Since I made an assault
On Miss Verity’s chastity node.
As the nail on my pinkie ingrowed,
I endured it in agony mode.
It’s my own silly fault
Since I made an assault
On Miss Verity’s chastity code.
For the purists. Node was pushing it a bit.
At the market, you always have fear.
Cuz each time that you go, it is clear
That you’ll groan and you’ll grunt
Cuz the person in front
Of you shops for food once ev’ry year.
We’re so honored that Granny bestowed
Us a beautiful antique commode.
And with it a note
Granny cautiously wrote:
“Flush Flush Flush, then get rid of your load”.
While in training for his new abode,
Newest Dog Elect “Major” just showed,
He will raise his right paw
When folks lay down the law
That the Rose Garden’s not his commode.
Mad – please delete the above pair of limericks! I had a “senior moment, and forgot that I hadn’t yet rhymed line 2!!!
****
From Mad
I know the feeling. :) Done.
At the stock market, brokers sure care
That investors will get their fair share.
When they see a decline,
It’s a very bad sign.
So they summon a bull and a bear.
“Forgive me if I incommode
You”, the Devil announced. “Legal code
In my contract with you
Means the debt is now due,
And I’m here to collect what I’m owed.”
“Ya mean that you’ve come for my soul?
Go ahead, I got damage-control!”
Said Trump with a grin
As the Devil reached in –
And found only a huge empty hole.
I was clearing Gran’s attic a bit,
When upon a quaint item I hit.
In an ornate commode
An old toilet was stowed —
The trademark read, “Crapper.” No sh**!
From a bet, Little Sally was owed
A dessert–“Something special!,” she crowed.
So he filled up a glass
With a bunch of cut grass
And he served up some pie á la mowed.
My dad had a very large load
Of bad jokes, which he loved (and it showed).
“How’d that brave frontier guy,
Davy Crockett, like pie?”
The right answer, of course: “Alamo’d.”
You go into Costco and then
You ask for a nice Cornish hen.
You like them a lot.
And now you have got
Enough for a fam’ly of ten.
As a poet, I fear I’ve plateaued.
All I’m good for, these days, is epode.
Yea, this bard with one string
Is a piteous thing
Since epode is no longer la mode.
So the Don’s in ex-president mode
Will he sit once again on commode?
He just needs to know
That the wheels let him go
To a place where his hair can be mowed!
Like a prisoner led to the dock,
Tom prepared for the snip, still a cock.
When the barber had mowed
Where the asset was stowed,
He resembled a capon in shock.
Since I grocery shop like a trooper,
Rolling up and down aisles in a stupor,
In my three-layered mask,
I guess that’s why I ask,
How come markets are said to be “super”?
Assessing his future abode,
All through Mar-a-Lago he strode.
“We’ll be here indeed,
So that means we will need
To fill the gold-plated commode.”
No more do I go to the “deli”.
The food there is salty and smelly.
Now I am smart.
I shop at “Health Mart”
I love natural food stuffed with jelly.
It’s official! My manhood’s plateaued.
Unresponsive, no matter the goad.
Not for Miss M Munroe
Could I put on a show.
I’m in thrall to my ruddy commode.
Mad, would you change the ‘up’ to ‘on’ in line 4 of the limerick above, and then, replace ‘enslaved’ to ‘in thrall’ in line 5. Thank you.
******
Done.
Vim and vigour, in youth, overflowed.
Worked and played hard without overload.
Then one day, something snapped:
I was rudely ‘unchapped’,
And since then, lived in chastity mode.
This isn’t a confession, so don’t go getting ideas. I’m all man – well, most of me is.
better
No more do I go to the “deli”
The food there is salty and smelly.
I’ve become very smart.
I now shop at “Health Mart”
I love natural food with my jelly.
Maiden aunts who largesse have bestowed
Throughout life, and are therefore much owed,
Will, when no longer prime –
Yes, there will come a time –
Be most grateful you thought, “Ah! Commode.”
Market
Her trip to “The Mart” was postponed.
She sighed and she whimpered and groaned.
She needed to buy
Her weekly supply.
Couldn’t go; little piggy was stoned.
Mad: at 1:58 today, I wrote a second version of my “Health Mart” limerick.
L5 says: I love natural food stuffed with jelly.
Could you please change that to…..I love natural food with my jelly.
Thank you, Lisi
*****
Done.
“I’m a man among men!” he now crowed –
Well, more croaked, he was still partly toad.
He’s revised that view since
He was kissed by the prince,
Who was dragged up as ‘ess, a la mode.
“I’m a man among men!” he now crowed.
Well, more croaked, he was still partly toad.
But then to his surprise,
He was forced to revise
As the prince was in drag, a la mode.
Another Van Gogh moment.
I’ve adapted my humble abode
By installing a handy commode
In each room and the loo –
Just in case I need two,
Or my guestlist has just overflowed.
To the “Really Cheap Market” we went.
Cuz most of our money’s been spent.
The sign at the door
Read “Come Into Our Store!
The bread and rolls taste like cement”
version two
To the “Really Cheap Market” we went.
Cuz most of our money’s been spent.
The sign at the door
Read, “Come Into Our Store”
Those maggots we just can’t prevent”
Though Capone had a splendid abode,
He neglected the garden – it showed!
It was rough and unshorn,
For it wasn’t the lawn,
But his bootlegging rivals he mowed.
Our regular check-out girl, Mary
Is sweet, but a little bit scary.
She wears a hair net
To be real clean, and yet,
Her arms, like an ape, are real hairy.
Said the tourist guide, “Here’s the commode,
The bequest Donald Trump has bestowed.
It’s full of fake voters,
The kind known as ‘floaters’,
Which, as you can see, overflowed.”
To Costco my wife had sent me;
For mouthwash and boxes of tea.
Though I was enthused,
She wasn’t amused
When I brought home that big-ass TV.
The beginnings for Josiah Spode
Were clay pipes and the commode,
Then he found his niche
And became very rich
Making fine china c’est à la mode.
Since I learned my cat knows the word “vet,”
I say “market” to baffle the pet —
But this morning, I erred
And employed the right word,
And we’re both now extremely upset:
Kitty leaped into daredevil mode!
All the way down the counter she strode,
Then flew up to the freezer!
She’s STILL there. Can’t seize her.
I mustn’t forget to use code…
Damn. 7:40 am in Israel, typing before coffee…
Mad, the verb in line 8 should be “flew,” as in “Then flew up to the freezer!” Sorry. Fixed it on Facebook. Will you please fix it here?
*********
Done.
Tom had taken a fancy. It showed,
And Felicity showed that she knowed.
Love now bloomed, late in life,
Tom had found him a wife,
And all thanks to the tandem commode.
Mad, just noticed that I missed the capital ‘F’ for Felicity in line 2 of the above – bleary eyes. Would you correct, please. Thank you.
******
Done.
When pacing around my abode,
And into some room I have strode,
But in the next minute
Can’t think why I’m in it,
I’m likely in limerick mode.
Here’s a nuisance that’s quite a disgrace:
(This nitwit you’d sure love to chase!)
Cuz he’s left his damn cart
At the “Food Super Mart”
In the “only one left” parking space.
(The TP shortage last Spring):
The shelves are all empty again!
I asked the store manager when
They’ll get re-supply.
He said “End of July;
You’ll just have to hold it ’till then”.
“We are all just aghast!!!”
I’m launching a major attack,
Concerning a real juicy snack.
I’m going to “Health Mart”
While eating a Pop Tart
Then wolfing down one large “Big Mac”
On the beach, in her thong, she bestowed
Treats to onlookers – everything showed!
But now back home in Philly
Her short skirts are quite chilly –
She’s regretting her “Pie à la Mowed”
Mister Keats wrote an ode to an urn
Which is why I will try, in my turn,
To compose you an ode
To my treasured commode.
I dare say I’m no Keats, you’ll discern.
Four piggies to market were taken
(the fifth was too smart to awaken).
One went all to pieces
And faked enuresis.
The rest had to bring home the bacon.
I was driving along on the road
When my car stopped and had to be towed.
I frowned and complained.
Till the “tow guy” explained:
“It was in its run-out-of-gas mode”.
The statistics professor once showed
Cooking talent when in his abode.
With math prof, he wrote
A cookbook of note,
And the title is Pi A La Mode.
The customer lines at the store
Are distanced at six feet of floor.
We must wear a mask
And are given the task;
They’re bagging our stuff nevermore.
Mad- in my posting above, could you please change line 2’s last words to read: “of floor”.
(we don’t need any more more)
Thanks, Dave
********
Done.
another Costco limerick !
To go into Costco’s real nifty.
You shop there to be very thrifty.
Whatever you get
You can certainly bet
It’s enough for a fam’ly of fifty.
A wrecking ball known as The Donald
Demolished the party of Ronald.
Their ethics were mowed
With one favor bestowed:
He had his impeachment McConnelled.
I love to watch all of the bees
Collecting the sap from the trees.
(‘Wanna be a “bug pro”)
Tomorrow, I’ll go
To the Market to buy some nice fleas.
Better wording than the one from December 10th. at 2:01 PM
Here’s a nuisance that’s quite a disgrace.
(This nitwit, I’d sure love to chase).
At the “Food Super Mart”
He’s left his damn cart
In the “only one left” parking space.
Messers Tryagain, Crapper and Spode
Looked, chagrined, on the shattered commode.
“Note to marketing: ‘No
Farts or flame in our po
As, combined, they are apt to explode.’”
Does US English know the word ‘Po’ for chamber pot, or is it just a UK term?
Right into the bedroom she strode.
And then she began to explode.
She yelled, “You forgot
To play fetch with Spot!”
(She has switched to her “monthly bitch” mode).
Those in line surreptitiously groan,
“He’s been in there all day with his phone.”
But they’d rather implode
Than the King discommode,
So they won’t push him off of the throne.
Messers Tryagain, Crapper and Spode
Looked, chagrined, on the shattered commode.
“Well at least we now know
Naked flame, farts and po,
If combined when we go, will explode.”
Our new mower with motor sure mowed.
And pop had such fun, that he glowed.
He did not read the guide.
Yet he still loves that ride.
And now he’s called “Poppy Three-Toed”.
Mad: At 3:07 today, line 5 of above limerick reads:
And now he’s called “Poppy Three-Toed”
Could you please change that to….And now he’s called “Poppy Two-Toed”
I’m attempting for a little more alliteration, as I did in line 1.
Thank You
Lisi
It was titled, ‘The Sting Episode’,
And it flushed out our saboteur toad.
He was caught, drill in hand,
Which was not what he’d planned
When he snuck down to sink the commode.
Christmas tensions been causing a rift?
Try our number one bestselling gift!
‘The Exploding Commode’:
(Sparking plug electrode.)
Never fails – guaranteed! Get the drift?
Pleasure Commode: The Quick Start User Manual
Thanks for choosing the ‘Pleasure Commode’.
Be aware that it groans under load.
Best results are achieved,
And your tensions relieved,
When it’s running in, ‘Ecstasy!’ code.
Pleasure Commode: The Quick Start User Manual
Thanks for choosing the ‘Pleasure Commode’.
Be aware that it groans under load.
Best results are achieved,
And your tensions relieved,
When it’s running in, ‘Ecstasy!’ code.
Things you can and can’t do with our ‘Po’,
Chief of which, ‘Do Not Smoke!’ when you go.
Don’t ignore! Our commode
Has been known to explode
When a fart and a flame – well, you know!
Every flea mart of old London town
Has a pub close at hand where you’ll drown
All your sorrows and find
Other souls of like mind,
Amongst whom there is always a clown.
There’s only so much you can do with a commode.
At the market for farmers this week,
I was offered a strangely shaped leek.
Reminiscent of ‘Rex’ –
(Oedipal, so think, ‘Sex’) –
Which I thought was a bit of a cheek.
This is inspired by a quote attributed to Dorothy Parker who, when she was shown the set for ‘Oedipus Rex’ – a giant phallus – quipped, “Well, it’s nobody I know.” What a gal!
Many gifts by my dog are bestowed,
Those he chose, I suppose, to unload.
I just wish he’d get wise,
And not leave a surprise
In the grass until AFTER it’s mowed.
We’ve developed a Mom COVID Code!
When in Zoom her sad visage she showed,
“Wow! Your hair!” we would say
With a smile (meaning “Gray,
And resembling a lawn left unmowed.”)
“Look! No wrinkles!” we’d beam (but we’d mean,
“Have you put on a pound or sixteen?”)
And we’ve recently tried
To self-publish our guide —
We could sell it, we thought — but, vaccine.
The Whole Foods Market Experience
I know that this sounds quite absurd:
At Whole Foods, I met this sales nerd.
He said, “Have some Pie.
It’s vegan. Just try.”
I gagged. Ran right out. Ate a bird.
At the market — it’s more like a zoo —
There are crowds, but the face masks are few.
So much saleable stuff!
But it isn’t enough
‘Cause these people still can’t buy a clue.
The new Farmer’s Market is tops.
It was one of our pre-arranged stops.
We made a great choice.
And sure did rejoice.
When we bought one who knew about crops.
At the market for farmers today
Were some very lewd shapes on display.
Veg’ should not be so rude –
Some were really quite crude –
And the vendor had too much to say.
At the market for farmers today
I found all sorts of shapes on display.
Take the tom’ with two cheeks,
Between phallus shaped leeks,
And two melons – a shameless array.
At the market for farmers, I see
Funny faces. Some register glee,
While the turnips, most stern,
Rutabagas that gurn,
Are a constant reminder of me.
At the market for farmers today
Were some very lewd shapes on display.
Veg’ should not be so rude –
Some were really quite crude –
And the vendor! He would have his say.
Gladys fancied a farmer she’d met
At the market. Her only regret
Was that much of his food
Was, in shape, very rude,
And she’d blush like a seasoned coquette.
In the markets financial, the ‘Bears’
Are investors most cautious with shares,
Whereas, ‘Bulls’ will back chance
In the hope they’ll enhance
What will, sooner or later, be theIRS.
At the farmers’, on Saturday last,
I discovered a pumpkin so vast
That the Dwarves and Snow White
Could move in and invite
Sleeping Beauty – and all of her cast.
Gladys fancied a farmer she’d met
At the market. Her only regret
Was that most of his wares
Were erotic, and stares
Made her blush like a seasoned coquette.
The Disgraceful Transplant Guy
The “Black Market Guy” was so vain.
But not anymore; I’ll explain:
He sells kidneys and hearts,
Mostly all human parts.
Yet there’s still no demand for Trump’s brain.
Over bra-less young gals men do lust.
Sales of bras are way down, so store must
See the market’s shifting.
Though bras are uplifting,
Store will close ’cause their sales have gone bust.
Black Market Guy 1:57 today….better
The “Black Market Guy” was real vain.
Now a problem has caused him much pain.
He sells kidneys and hearts,
Mostly all body parts.
Yet there’s still no demand for Trump’s brain.
In the fleshpots of old Marrakesh
One can buy naughty undies in mesh.
There are hookahs galore –
Yes, that’s ‘Hookah’ not whore –
And the fruits and the veg’ are all fresh.
As a Trekkie from way back, I know
There are times when I must boldly go,
And to know my commode
Is at hand is a load
Off my mind, and a blessing bestowed.
It is wise when in full-frontal mode
To avoid those who mock and erode
Your belief and your pride
In your manhood. Decried,
It make fail when it ought to explode.
Sorry, Mad. Would you change ‘make’ to ‘may’ in line five above, please. Thank you.
Not to worry. I’ve rewritten it. Thanks anyway.
It is wise when in full-frontal mode
To avoid those who mock and erode
Your belief and your pride
In your manhood. Decried,
It may fail to respond and explode.
Through the crowds on the beaches he strode,
A colossus in full-frontal mode.
Every man looked aghast –
His appendage was vast –
And the girls either swooned or they glowed.
Sorry!
Through the crowds on the beaches he strode,
A colossus in full-frontal mode.
Every man looked aghast –
His appendage was vast –
And the girls either swooned or “Helloed!”
Hi, Mad– I sent the same limerick twice on 12-12
at 9:16 and 9:25. Would you delete one of them for me, please? (What? No, just one). Thanks. Though I say “I,” I’m pretty sure the dog did it.
“On this new talking picture machine,”
said the Luddite, “I’m not really keen.
When I try to unload
My mistakes in this mode,
My eraser leaves marks on the screen.”
**************
Done. :)
The Black Market Guy: Improved (L2)
I wrote this one yesterday, but I can’t find it, so I will re-write it
The “Black Market Guy” was so vain,
But a problem has caused him much pain.
He sells kidneys and hearts,
Mostly all human parts.
Yet there’s still no demand for Trump’s brain.
A Turk by the name of Farouk
Bought a snake that he charmed in the souk
Poor skill as a piper
No control of his viper
The bite on his ass, a rebuke
another look at the new mower, now with Tommy driving it
Our new mower with motor sure mowed.
And Tom had such fun that he glowed.
He did not read the guide,
Yet he still loves to ride.
His new name is “Tommy-Two-Toed”.
The Electoral College has cast
All its votes. Now it’s over at last.
Trump’s been threshed, plowed and mowed —
Lost his game — shot his load —
And with Biden we now should stand fast.
Through the crowds on the beaches he strode,
An Apollo in Full-Monty mode.
Every man looked aghast –
His appendage was vast –
And the girls either swooned or “Helloed!”
She’s in furious spring-cleaning mode;
Her superfluous stuff she’ll unload.
Ancient clothing, CDs,
Old computers, TVs,
And her boyfriend sit out by the road.
Every inmate of Casa Bulstrode
Took up shares in the household commode.
Some took two, many three,
Leaving one for poor me,
Which is why I can’t pee if it’s snowed.
Cried the poet, “Please! Grant me an ode!”
And his muse must have heard and bestowed.
For the very next day
Came a sparky, named Fay,
Who installed the requested anode.
Many men, when in passionate mode,
Don’t pay court; they’re too keen to get blowed.
They get straight to the point,
Which is why girls anoint,
And the washouts go home overflowed.
Denzel whistled an’ grinned as ‘e mowed,
An’ the cause was no secret. ‘E knowed
That when mowin’ were done
‘E could ‘ave ‘im some fun –
An’ a great deal of seed would be sowed.
Avaricious Cornelius Spode
Leant some money which, once it was owed,
Turned a hard heart to stone,
So, he cancelled the loan,
And went into recovery mode.
Silly Moi!!
Avaricious Cornelius Spode
Lent some money which, once it was owed,
Turned a hard heart to stone,
So, he cancelled the loan,
And went into recovery mode.
Denzel whistled an’ grinned as ‘e mowed,
An’ the cause was no secret. ‘E knowed
That when mowin’ were done
‘E could go ‘ave some fun –
An’ a great deal of seed would be sowed.
But when Denzel ‘ad finished the field
All ‘is ‘opes of some fun was repealed.
Seems, accordin’ to code,
That a farmhand who’s mowed
Ain’t allowed a seed-spreader to wield.
Whereupon sat upon his commode.
Thereupon he composed him an ode.
As an ode it was crap,
And he knew it, poor chap,
But it helped when discharging his load.
For the dippers, the markets are prime,
And the weekends their favourite for crime.
They can move through the press
And their gentle caress
Goes unnoticed – well, most of the time.
This is an, ‘Only Fools and Horses’ market limerick.
Messers Hurly and Burly declaimed,
Using language both strangled and maimed.
All their gear had dropped off
Of a lorry, so Toff
Kept a shufti in case they was framed.
For Adam Smith
An Invisible Hand’s said to be
Guiding markets, as long as they’re free.
Well, I’ve seen it. It mocks
Ev’ry one of my stocks.
Guess which finger it’s raising at me.
“Express Lane: 8 Items Or Less”
“You’ve 9 items; this lane’s for 8”
“I’m sorry; I just couldn’t wait.
It’s a tiny mistake
Hey! give me a break”
“Okay, but tonight don’t be late”
“You’re telling me WHAT? That it SNOWED?”
“Not just that — there’s black ice on the road,
The toilets are frozen,
And… dear, I’m supposin’
We’ll all have to use this commode.”
His phone was set on silent mode
When he tried to quickly up-load
There was no response
So, he grabs a croissant
Then fixed it by changing the code
A popular share punters tool
Is the theory of the bigger fool.
If you can offload your junk
Before the market goes clunk
You can make a killing in the shark pool.
Some markets respond to a need
Others are driven by greed.
An index spread
Can’t be put on your bread
And will no hungry mouth feed.
Our market is known as Wild Oats
Just come with a wad of bank notes.
Two hundred Rand
You won’t keep in your hand.
It’s paid to fill all your group’s throats.
The loser he glowered and glowed
“I WON’T go – I’ll HAVE to be towed
I don’t care from where
My bed or my chair
Or even my mucky old commode.”
I think I’m about to implode
I know that I won, I have always so knowed.
In this Office I’ll sit
I will not budge a bit
I’ll cling to my throne until towed.
Tony rushed to his keyboard, then slowed,
Locked in full ‘auto-limerick’ mode.
For the urge to create,
To be Mad’s laureate,
Must, for safety, abate. ‘OVERLOAD’.
Tony rushed to his keyboard, then slowed,
Knowing full well that limerick mode
Was defunct. He was spent,
But he wouldn’t relent,
So, his muse, now on strike, overrode.
The current Limerick-Off ends tomorrow, Saturday, at 4 pm (Eastern time.) So please get your limerick stragglers in.
With Trump in his whiny-tot mode,
“They stole my election!” he crowed.
The outcome was set
When electors said “Get
Your lame-duckling show on the road.”
The first thing I get is a cart.
But it wasn’t the same at “The Mart”
It’s always a “zoo”.
But no more, must be due
To the rule about six feet apart
Trump Goes Shopping
Mr. Trump brought his solid gold cart.
But it wasn’t the same at “The Mart”
It’s always a “zoo”
But no more, must be due
To that gibb’rish ’bout six feet apart.
Mad: one limerick above, line 5 1:58 PM today
Could you please change, “To that edict
’bout six feet apart” to …….To the rule about six feet apart
Thank You. Lisi
*******
Done.
another way of putting it :Trump goes shopping
Mr. Trump brought his solid gold cart.
To go shopping at “Washington Mart”
There was quite a dispute
When they gave him the boot.
Cause he wouldn’t stay six feet apart.
What is Trump’s secret thrall
When he works for himself not us all?
His regular mode
Is of obnoxious toad,
But you have to say he’s got gall.
Donald Trump, friend of Norman Vincent Peale
Oh no, now I’m really sunk.
I bought some bonds that are junk.
It’s ok, I won’t be sinking
With my power of positive thinking
I’ll survive while others go clunk.
How many crashes have there been?
Count them, you’ll find it’s umpteen,
Then once it’s failed
The market is bailed…
The public is milked by the cream.
Economists are rather trite
Claiming “The Market” is always right.
They forget the Dutch flowers
And the Junk Bonds of ours
And their Wall Street Crash oversight.
I think I’m about to implode
The voting? I KNOW it was throwed
In this Office I’ll sit
I will NOT budge a bit
I’ll cling to my throne until towed.
(modified version)
I was fat, and, oh boy! how it showed!
To be honest, I thought I’d explode!
Told the waiter, “no pie!
Or ice cream but I
Would like a small taste of that mode”.
To the door of my humble abode
In my, “Most incommodious!” mode,
I advanced, flung it wide,
To see who had defied …
“What the f*%$ do you want?” I bellowed.
To the door of my humble abode
In my, “Most incommodious!” mode,
I advanced, flung it wide,
To see who had defied …
“What the f*%$ do you want?” I bellowed.
In response to this greeting, a crone
Said, “I do beg your pardon and own
That I’m pressed. Your commode …
If I might? You’d be owed …”
“I’ll conduct you, myself. Please – enthrone!”
“Oh, that’s better!” said much relieved crone.
“Any chance of a cuppa?” I groan.
Kettle on, warming pot,
“Would you care for a spot
Of pork pie with your tea?” I intone.
Well, I’m not such a bad sort, at heart –
And I quickly catch up, once I start.
We got chatting and soon
It was late afternoon
And I asked, “Must you really depart?”
My old crone, it transpired, was a witch
With a strong sense of honour. Her pitch?
“I could change, if you wish,
To a tastier dish?”
Which she did. Made one helluva switch!
That was many years past. Yes, she stayed.
My reward? Every day I get laid.
I’m less grumpy these days,
Thanks to her winning ways –
And so lucky she came to my aid.
Once we lived by a more squeamish code:
No one wanted vaccines where it showed.
Sleeves and biefs are now scanty,
And even old Auntie
Thinks showing ALL scars is the mode.
Ooops, that’s “briefs” in the third line:
Once we lived by a more squeamish code:
No one wanted vaccines where it showed.
Sleeves and briefs are now scanty,
And even old Auntie
Thinks showing ALL scars is the mode.
another look at the dieter: minor change in L4
I was fat, and oh boy! how it showed.
To be honest, I thought I’d explode.
Told the waiter, “no pie
Or a la, but I
Would love a small taste of that mode”.
I just wrote a modified limerick about “the dieter” and now it’s gone!
L4 changed)
I was fat, and oh boy! how it showed.
To be honest, I thought I’d explode.
Told the waiter, “no pie
Or a la, but I
Would like a small taste of the mode”.
To her interview, Marilyn strode.
At the “Health Center” right down the road.
“Your experience, Dear?
You must make it real clear”
“Well, I’ve emptied ‘a many commode”
Marie Antoinette wrote an ode
To the people on whose backs she rode.
She sure made a mistake
Saying, “Let them eat cake!”
When it should have been pie a la mode.
The newlywed virgin just glowed
At her husband’s delight when she showed
All her feminine beauty
And reported for duty
With her smooth furry patch freshly mowed.
Slight edit:
The newlywed virgin just glowed
At her husband’s delight when she showed
All her feminine beauty
And reported for duty,
Her smooth furry patch freshly mowed.
The cryptologist’s yard had been mowed
In a pattern that carried a code.
On his tree, eucalyptus,
A sign said, “Decrypt this
To enter my humble abode.”
The Medal of Freedom bestowed
On that loudmouth Rush Limbaugh just showed
How low we descended.
Had we really intended
To flush our pride down the commode?
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 459. Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Mousse.