Limerick Drone (Limerick-Off Monday)
It’s Limerick-Off time, once again. And since the Oscars are on tonight, I’m offering you an alternative: In addition to your regular challenge, you may write a limerick related to the Oscars, using any first line. Next week I’ll present an extra award — one for the best Oscars-related limerick.
And now, getting back to your regular Limerick-Off challenge: I write a limerick, and you write your own, using the same first line. Then you post your limerick here and, if you’re a Facebook user, on Facebook too.
The best submission will be crowned Limerick Of The Week. (Here’s last week’s Limerick Of The Week Winner.)
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 Limerick of the Week Winner next Sunday, right before I post next week’s Limerick-Off. So that gives you a full week to submit your clever, polished verse. Your submission deadline is Saturday at 11:59 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A fellow who’d constantly drone…*
or
A woman who’d constantly drone…*
or
A fellow who felt like a drone…*
or
A woman who felt like a drone…*
*(Please note that minor variations to my first lines are acceptable. However, rhyme words may not be altered, except by using homonyms or homophones.)
Here’s my limerick:
Limerick Drone
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A salesman who’d constantly drone
Was forced to go off on his own.
Here’s the hole in his plan:
He bored ev’ry man
And each woman he pitched on the phone.
Please feel free to write your own limerick using the same first line and post it 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: Bores, Competition Limerick, Customers Humor, Drone Humor, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Poetry & Prompts, Sales Humor, Voice, Work Humor, Workplace Limerick, Writing Prompts
In order to stave off a drone
And ensure certain seeds are not sewn,
Let me say: Please don’t post
Any toast, roast, or boast
That makes fun of the grand old trombone!
You hafta remember your Wodehouse for this to make sense.
A woman who felt like a Drone
Asked for membership at the Club’s home
“We don’t take your gender
No matter what fee you might tender
For women would lower the tone!”
It’s Oscar week! Soon we will know
Where golden boy Oscar will go.
Some heroes and winners
turn out to be sinners
Oh – and Sunday there’s some awards show.
The nominees, spruced up and styled
Past red carpet cameras have filed,
They sit in their places
With faux-serene faces
While the audience goes Oscar-wild.
A woman would constantly drone
To her sis “Get a beau of your own”
Because, if she arose
To go powder her nose
She’d return and her date would be blown
A fellow who’d constantly drone
bored all his friends to the bone
so they thought of a plan
to silence him and
brought duct tape, an XL roll…
Judging films for an Oscar I’ll show
Bechdel’s bias test sets the bar low
“Do two women confer,
Not about a monsieur”
Will the ’Best Picture’ pass? I vote no
They say that the dance of the drone
Describes in reverse the path flown
From flowers to hive
The same kind of drive
Makes me toil in this cubicle clone
The bagpipes would constantly drone,
As Angus would stand there and moan,
While, under his kilt,
The fellow, well-built,
Would struggle to contain his bone.
A woman would constantly drone
Of her love for Sylvester Stallone
She would take him to bed
In an instant, instead
Went to sleep with a dreamy sweet groan.
A fellow who’d constantly drone
Of a woman cold as a stone
Found her proper and staid
So he couldn’t get laid.
She brought gals to her bed when alone.
A fellow who felt like a drone
Was left in a bar all alone.
His flame in a state
A hot date would deflate
And leave him half drunk to bemoan.
A woman who’d constantly drone
Of hot sex on her steamy cell phone
Would brag so absurd
So everyone heard
When the drone on the phone turned to moan.
A fellow who’d constantly drone
To his wife over the phone
Got caught a work
Just gave a smirk
Figuring he should have hung up at the tone
A teenager who felt like a drone
Sat out all the dances alone.
She asked a friend why
Who said with a sigh
“That you are a prude is well known.”
A woman who’ll constantly drone
Leaves long messages on the phone.
Then she calls AGAIN
To get the rest in
Till all the machine space is blown.
On an iPhone a gossip will drone
With tweeting & texting they’re prone
To diss ev’ry friend
Trash talk and hit “send”
Then wonder why they’re left alone
Met this prig who just tended to drone
About surveys that “clearly have shown”
True New Yorkers have class,
But this wannabe ass
Really drives in each day from Bayonne.
A man who behaved like a drone
Was hardly returning his loan,
But loved by a lady
Has never been shady
And always was ready to bone…
A fellow who’d constantly drone,
Found himself almost always alone.
He worked constantly,
Like a worker bee,
So he just implanted his phone.
Maxwell Smart, he would prattle and drone,
As he cradled his leather cell phone.
Then all hell would break loose,
And they’d find some excuse
For the silence that came with the cone.
With a camcorder part of a drone,
Now fully controlled from a phone.
Naked girls would be wise,
To avoid prying eyes.
And question; are they really alone?
My girlfriend would drone, drone, drone
Until I could get her alone;
Give her a tickle
Ram home the pickle
Then wait for the moan, moan, moan.
Sadly, after the moans she would drone
‘Til I really wished I were alone.
Solution? Of course,
Teach her who’s boss.
Fat chance, now my friend hears her moan.
Came the day and my friend, he did drone,
“I just can’t shut her up, Oh Marone.”
Told him what to do,
Mix her drink with glue.
She switched drinks now it’s he who doth moan.
Now that gal who did nothing but drone,
Called me up on my cellular phone,
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,
What’s more blah, blah, blah, blah.”
Now my phone swims with the abalone.
Wait, there’s more to the gal who did drone;
After my phone disturbed abalone,
The poor fish got shook
Looked for nearest hook,
Chomped down, now in frying pan…prone.
Go ahead, say I’m starting to drone,
That you wish I would go eat a scone;
Well, I’m here to say
OK, have it your way;
But, I’d rather eat that abalone.
A fellow who’d constantly drone,
In pubs, how he felt so alone,
Would then be bereft
When everyone left –
His chances of company, blown!
A woman who felt like a drone
(In beehive bee-hiviour alone)
Said, ‘After he’d done
With giving me fun,
He’d die, leaving parts now ingrown!’
I’ve heard quite enough of the drone
Of his fans who say “Leave him alone!”
Was Elvis the King?
Well I guess he could sing
And he certainly died on the throne.
A fellow who’d constantly drone
It’s my cloud, so just leave me alone!
Developed a swagger,
And named himself Jagger –
His business card says Rolling Stone
Fair Phyllis was hardly a drone
As she sat on that mountain alone
And from those dang-ed sheep
There was hardly a peep
As she answered her new Android phone.
The opera singer would drone
One voice is just too monotone
She’s now good to go
In full stereo
Reading “Duet Yourself With a Clone”
A fellow liked to hear himself drone
Can’t get enough of voice of his own
in his Rolodex file
put himself on speed dial
Now he droning alone on the phone
A queen bee was in love with a drone
Every night his stinger she would hone
her hive was abuzz
with honey because
10,000 more drones that queen did clone
Lindsey Lohan is such a strumpet
Her conquests are something to trumpet
at the Oscars they’d stare
as she forgot underwear
Giving new meaning to red carpet
Having heard of the skill of the drone,
A guy decided to have one of his own.
But he didn’t count on
The guys in the Pentagon,
Not parting with one, even on loan.
So he went to the CIA, though it’s well-known
They won’t even throw a dog a bone.
So he spent the rest of his time,
Not caring even a dime.
And doing nothing but moan and groan.
Three Witches were starting to drone
And heretical sayings would moan
The were burnt at the stake
Ant what just took the cake
Was that one of them went by name Joan.
The fellow would constantly drone
On and on about those he’d known,
All folks rich and famous,
As he tried to shame us.
’Til, “Oh go to hell,” we’d intone.
A veritable array of wit!
The woman who sounds like a drone
talking loud on her cellular phone
while folks try to eat
may think she sounds neat
but our crowd will just painfully groan.
A Pilot trained to steer a drone,
to remotely send a fiery stone
so sinners might die
from aircraft that fly
with punishing presence unknown.
A lady heard an ear-piercing drone
coming from her new telephone,
so she sent it back
with this wisecrack,
“This is one phone, I won’t rent or own!”
When Pakistan builds their own drone,
to fly over land we call our own
will we say its wrong
but just play along
or swear, this sin we can’t condone.
Though “Lincoln” showed craft and élan,
And by critics was much smiled upon,
Despite all the spinning
Its chances of winning
Argoing, Argoing, Argone.
A teacher who’d constantly drone
Made students weary to the bone
They all fell asleep
Without making a peep
Unaware he droned on all alone.
A fellow who’d constantly drone
on the bagpipes when he was alone
had offended his girl
with the squeak and the skirl.
But he now tries his best to atone.
Our preacher would endlessly drone,
“You must for your sinning atone,”
And I found a few
Transgressions so new,
I kept them as my very own.
A Queen bee needs a friendly drone,
who buzzes yes in his baritone,
and though he will die.
together they fly
finding her erogenous zone
The Irish Airman, 21st Century
The airman maneuvered the drone
At his desk in an office, alone
He struck them all dead
In an impulse of dread
While he ordered Chinese on the phone
A dog who’d whine howl and drone
Couldn’t find where he’d buried his bone
Said the cat “For god’s sake.
Give us a break”.
Or the Dogcatcher we’ll surely phone”.
I admit I don’t care who they pick
For best actor, director or flick,
But here’s news: when rude rubes
Reduce women to boobs,
They’ll now earn “a MacFarlane” (Best Prick).
A woman would constantly drone
That she belonged up on the throne.
It made her blood boil,
Her being a royal,
That she had to get her own scone.
L. Ron Hubbard would constantly drone
“Come and taste mother’s beef bourguignon”
‘En francais’ the stew”s faire
But the cupboard is bare
And her dog finds it’s all n’est pas bon
A fellow would frequently drone
“She’s left, whoa is me, I’m alone”
How’s he deal with rejection
When he ‘as an erection?
It’s hard but he’s holding his own
Too many male servers would drone
As the queen sat working hard on the phone
Checking deliveries of her golden honey
Wondering why she offered any money
Often surrounded, she felt quite aloof and alone
(c) JP/davh
A fellow would contstantly drone
On and on in the same monotone.
And to make matters worse
He would do it in verse
In the voice of Syvester Stallone.
A fellow would constantly drone
That Barack’s skill was much overblown.
His wife said, “Don’t go hard
On your favorite blowhard
Till you get a red phone of your own.”
A fellow would constantly drone
On the double-entendre of ‘stone.’
He was truly in shock
As it passed through his cock
But the horrible puns made him groan.
A toddler would constantly drone
Of the need for his own ice-cream cone.
“Mama, you get to pick
And I get one lick.
Now I want a whole cone of my own.”
When her husband would constantly drone
She felt she was all on her own
So she then had to force
A harangue on divorce
A subject they could not postpone.
A kewpee dolly would constantly drone
That her life at the fair had no tone
I just wouldn’t pick
This cold life on a stick
And what’s worse I am wearing no ” clo’n”
Ma Hubbard would constantly drone
“I must give the poor dog a bone.”
‘Til girls, Pat and Prudence,
Anatomy students,
Yelled, “Ma! Leave our skeletons alone!”
A fellow would constantly drone
Of allergies mostly his own.
If we could abolish
All furniture polish.
I’d still have to smell your cologne.
A bee who was told he’s a drone
filled the hive with a most mournful moan.
“You mean I can’t sting?
What a terrible thing.
Now go away. Leave me alone.”
A preacher who’d endlessly drone
Was turning the faithful to stone.
They began to rebel,
Saying they’d prefer Hell,
And soon he was there all alone.
A fellow would constantly drone
On keeping up with and holding his own.
“All those people next door
Seems to have so much more.
How I wish there were only one Jone!”
An Oscar tribute to Aaron Sorkin:
Observed Bartlet, “Now this is top-notch–
A conundrum I’d better not botch:
One gets a prize
And the other one dies.
If the Oscars were like that I’d watch!”
My math teacher tended to drone
And to mind-numbing lectures was prone.
I soon calculated
His head was located
In a place where the sun never shone.
DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE BAD GUYS
When Barack first saw a spy drone,
He said, “I must have my own.
Don’t bother with bail,
Or lawyers or jail,
‘Cause into small bits they’ll be blown.”
When a tightfisted tailor who’d drone
That good cloth was too dear hit the phone
For a cheaper supplier
His outlays soared HIGHer …
Shoulda known that he’d reap what he’d sown.
A gay fellow often will drone,
How his Android, on ‘vibe,’ makes him groan.
“As in ‘moan?'” asks his guys,
“Also ‘large,'” he replies.
“‘Groan’ and ‘grown;’ it’s a fab homophone.
A fellow who felt like a drone,
bragged of missions that he’d never flown.
But he thought it was true
from the plants that he grew,
Pot and Poppies were what he had grown.
The house agent tended to drone
In a low and dull flat monotone:
“A house you must get,
So give up your let
And own and own and own and own and own.”
A fellow would constantly drone
About women he wished he had known
But his critical words
Were as welcome as turds
So he picked his own bone all alone
“Ringing rocks,” all you skeptics may drone,
“Are impossible, false, and unknown.”
Look it up, here’s the bar:
If I lie and you are
Without sin, you may cast the first tone!
“Thou shalt not …” the old preacher would drone
Through the slate of all ten so well known.
His mistress: “ ’Bout VII—
Does that wipe out heaven?”
“ ’Bout seven. It’s not etched in stone.”
“Cut the grass” was his mechanized drone
Never leaving his kept wife alone.
So the blades went afield.
And now that’s revealed
Can you guess what is cut in his stone?
A fellow would constantly drone
Of his love for some good provolone.
Said his wife, “Hon, you’re daft,
Since you always eat Kraft
Yellow cheese, singly sliced, on a scone.”
A fellow who felt like a drone
Said, “I’ve been abuzz and I’ve flown,
But I’ve made no money,
So I’ve made no honey,
These are the things I most bee-moan.”
Bend an ear to the paperclip drone:
By hook or by crook there’s a tone.
Those hairpins are bound
To report with some sound.
Why else would the French say “trombone”?
Ref to Jamie Hutchinson’s discovery
My teacher would constantly drone
“Parlez vous francais ….and so’n
But many years later
That google translator
Said paperclip just means trombone.
My sister would constantly drone
About wanting a room of her own
Our fights for most space
Were oft commonplace
Little peace in that teenage war zone.
A woman who’d constantly drone
Of the story of Eva Perón
Singing “Don’t Cry For Me”
A little off-key
Had her reign on the stage overthrown.
The fellow who’d constantly drone
That the biscuit is worse than the scone
Would also opine
On Burgundy wine
Or as he put it, “Vin de Bourgogne”.
A fellow who’d constantly drone
Of all the wild seeds he had sown
Increasingly found
That, as an old hound,
It’s harder to dig up a bone.
The use of the CIA drone
In a hostile, but noncombat zone,
Is a break very bold
From the practice of old,
With consequence as yet unknown.
A fellow who’d constantly drone
Without having actually flown
Would search on his screen
For mujahedin
From a bunker beneath San Anton’.
We’ll have to get used to the drone,
For its uses have rapidly grown.
It’s one of the ways
To quickly appraise
Your home when you go for a loan.
Day-Lewis’s next Oscar role:
Monroe! He’s the heart and the soul!
The precedent’s set,
Never mind he’s brunet—
He’s an actor with chops for a mole.
Musicians may frequently drone
About being left all alone.
When asked, they reveal
They quite often feel
Like the 77th trombone.
I’m so sick and tired said the Drone
Of shagging the Queen to the bone
Would be so sweet to jive
With a Worker from the Hive
And set up our own Honeycomb
This acually happened to me last Sunday so sorry but I could’nt resist:
The Priest continued to drone
In his boring and dead monotone
That’s when I fell asleep
Then awoke with the “Cheep”
Of my new IPhone’s ring tone.
echoes of my childhood here:
A young oboe player would drone
as she practiced each day in her home.
Bro claimed she did wring
the neck of the thing
instead of achieving clear tone.
Thanks so much everyone for your fun limericks! This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Congratulations to the Limerick of the Week Winner, the Special Oscar-Themed Limerick Award Winners, the Facebook Friends’ Choice Award Winner, and the Honorable Mention Winners! Limerick of the Week 103.
But don’t worry — you can still have lots of limerick fun, because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick Flight.