Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: BOLD or BOWLED at the end of any one line (Submission Deadline: January 22, 2022 )
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 BOLD or BOWLED 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 INJURIES, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best INJURY-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 January 23, 2022, 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, January 22, 2022 at 4:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my BOLD or BOWLED-rhyme limerick:
“You are scantily clad, which is bold,
Cuz I’ve just been outside, and it’s cold.
Your dress seems designed
To freeze your behind,
So you’d best put that ‘hot’ garb on hold.”
And here’s my INJURY-themed limerick:
A young man hurled a tool and yelled, “Catch it.”
And his friend somehow managed to snatch it,
But he’s terribly mad;
He was injured. It’s bad!
No surprise, he won’t bury the hatchet.
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: Clothing Humor, Clothing Limerick, Competition Limerick, Hatchet Humor, Injury Humor, Injury Limerick, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Poetry & Prompts, Tool Humor, Tool Limerick, Weather Humor, Weather Limerick, Writing Prompts
As a senior, I know how it goes.
I can’t even put on my hose.
My bones are so frail,
I try, but I fail.
And repeatedly break all my toes.
At “Shriveled Up Place” where I dwell,
There are so many stories to tell.
On a typical day
Each one starts this way:
“Did ev’ry one hear who just fell?”
A Knight of the Realm, strong and bold,
His squire ne’er did what he was told.
Left his suit by a tree,
While he went off to pee.
When he came back, his armour was sold.
Loading my car with a sack.
Then painful immediate whack.
The cart took a roll,
My toe took the toll.
X-ray shows minuscule crack.
It was sixty plus tip that I doled.
As a kid, my first perm, I was sold.
But the haircut looked stark,
A circular arc.
Guess you can say I was bowled.
Jim thinks way outside of the box.
His footwear is unorthodox.
His choices are bold
but they leave his toes cold
which is why he wears socks with his Crocs!
Premature Appreciation.
He survived the long fall to the ground,
but had broken both arms (hit a mound).
He was hauled by his teeth,
from the chasm beneath,
and said “Tha-a-a-anks…” – with diminishing sound!
I have frightening feelings of dread.
And unsettling thoughts in my head.
What’s more, I am old.
But today I was bold.
And actually got out of bed.
His pet parrot developed a lurch, –
The result of its most recent search:
Found a liquor most rare
By his master’s arm-chair
Then got legless and fell off his perch.
Happy Daze?
My kids said “Let’s go on this swing”
as it flew from their hands to my shin
From my face-downward splat
I can still recall that
they said “Dad, you’ve got blood on your chin”
To eat and live well is my goal,
and not flip when I need self control.
But pancake sweet batter?
– A whole other matter:
A coin-toss to lick-out that bowl.
Some rogue sheep saw the fence unpatrolled
To escape, found a scapegoat, so bold
Catapult did release
O’er the fence, at a crease
Due to head wind he’s ‘back in the fold’…
Jury hung, with the verdict now due…
Tension high, twelve divided in two
Tempers flaired, breaking peace
Verbal barbs didn’t cease
Adding insult to in-jury too
The Donald’s announcement was bold:
“It’s no worse than the’flu or a cold!”
Tens of thousands would die
From the cynical lie
That his mindless supporters were told.
Lehrer sang (let us give him his due)
How a maid cut her brother in two,
But he needs to be told
That was stupid, not bold:
Kids are best as a roast, not a stew.
Last week I engaged in a tryst
On a cruise, in a bunk with a list —
But I fell out of bed,
Got a bump on my head,
And sustained a bad sprain of my wrist.
Some LIMs leave me in stitches I’d say
Others painful, get carried away…
Sometimes pride takes a beating
Feelings hurt bears repeating
But we’ll claim no more inj’ries today!
Craftsman Woody works magic with pine
Got behind on his pro-duction line
So he sawed twice as fast
Thought it fun, had a blast
Till he got home from work with just nine…
Gunter Bohl’s story needs to be told
Worked the lanes from age 15 years old
Told his boss, “Take a hike!”
When he went out on strike
(got a 300 score when he bowled)
With Mad Kane each story she’s told
Gives an image that’s hard to behold
We look many times
Through her difficult rhymes
Which are all unbelievably bold!
INJURIES
He’s well-known as a local pervert
Who once threw a knife at my shirt.
Anesthetic was splayed
On each side of the blade
So I claimed I was injured not hurt.
“In this contest, near rhymes leave me cold;
Before winning with one, you’ll get old,”
Says Madeleine. “Try
Not to go so awry,
But with puns,” she says, “over I’m bowled.”
This year, origami’s my thing.
Make a swan, or a dragon or king.
Go basic or bold,
Be precise with the fold.
Small hazard, the paper cut sting.
The new magazine’s concept was bold.
Origami designs would be sold.
But subscribers were few,
So the publisher knew
After only one issue, they’d fold.
So the people at work always know,
At the job site’s a sign that does show
They’ve been injury-free
Since two thousand and three.
Is such safety an accident? No!
Lady Longhorn, one hundred years old,
Breathed her last as her lover took hold.
He, not noticing this,
Said, when planting a kiss,
“Why so cold, if I may be so bold?”
(From the sports page)
That quarterback couldn’t resist;
Resulting in games that he’s missed.
Those treatments were sought
For the “ailments” he brought;
With groin pulls on top of the list.
I’ve a “bucket list” yet to unfold,
Filled exploits, at best left on hold.
There is still much to do,
I don’t look forward to,
So, thank goodness, I’ve already bowled.
LOL! to Christine and Kirk. (I’d like to join the fold)
Origami, all creases and flaps,
Is for people, like me, full of traps.
Once I suffered a strain,
As I worked on a crane.
(That’s a whole different union, perhaps).
Correction for “bucket list” typo. (should NOT type with thumbs)
I’ve a “bucket list” yet to unfold,
Filled with exploits, at best left on hold.
There is still much to do,
I don’t look forward to,
So, thank goodness, I’ve already bowled.
“From one to ten is the way how
We access how your gash feels right now.
What’s that you’re conveying?
Just what are you saying?”
“What number explains the word OW?”
“Oh My Aching Neck”
I guess this is very in keeping
With aging, but still I am weeping.
Never happened, when younger.
For those days, how I hunger.
I injure myself while I’m sleeping.
“The Bold and the Beautiful” a soap opera on CBS
The “Bold and the Beautiful” mold
Is one of mystique uncontrolled.
I used to be pretty,
Alluring and witty.
But now I am beautifully bold.
Injury theme:
That girl is a terrible flirt.
She seduces, then treats men like dirt.
But someday she’ll cry
When she fools the wrong guy
And ends up in a world full of hurt
A cougar babe – brassy and bold,
Enticing a guy half as old,
Extended her hand
In a manner so grand,
He asked her “to have and to hold.”
In opera, a story is told
Of archers who went for gold.
Their arrows were true,
And their bowling balls, too.
Thus the title: For Whom the Tells Bowled.
Injury: Open Mind
With an open mind, there is no doubt
You’re unbiased, completely throughout.
I was always that way
Till that terrible day,
Without warning, my brain just fell out.
Finding The Right Man
My wisdom is precious as gold:
You might think he’s a sight to behold.
He may not be for you
If he’s the kind who
Leaves the bumpers up each time he’s bowled.
When a salesman says, “You’re not too old!”
What a nice bill of goods I’ve been sold.
There are lines with fine print,
But what’s in them? No hint,
Because all I can see are the bold.
OOPS! I used the wrong word in my limerick today from 5:03 PM
I meant to type “assess” but I typed “access” (L2)
“From one to ten is the way how
We assess how your gash feels right now.
What’s that you’re conveying?
Just what are you saying?”
“What number explains the word OW?”
Bowling: Not a sport for Germophobes
There’s a bowling place right in our mall.
The last time I went I recall:
Who before me had bowled?
Was he young? Was he old?
Just whose fingers were right in this ball?
If you jump off the top of a hill
The experience will make you quite ill
Motion sickness and sprains
Broken bones and more pains
And a megabucks physician’s bill
Sans-serif, or Helvetia in bold
Who cares, if the story is told?
Edward Elric’s the name
Chrysopoeia’s the game
To make copper transmute into gold.
One day it was dreadfully cold,
So Jane and I gleefully strolled
Into “Bowling’s The Best”
And I sure was impressed
To see people could eat while they bowled.
If twelve strikes in a row you have bowled,
That’s perfect, or so I am told.
In my youth ‘fore I wed
I did likewise in bed
Till on marriage I somehow got sold.
Sharon Neeman, shall we sing together?
In Tom Lehrer’s song we are told
Of a maiden whose heart is so cold
That with every verse
Her depraved acts got worse.
Yes sharing that ballad is bold.
Another verse to follow
Yes Rickety Tickety Tin
Is a maiden whose actions have been,
Like Lizzie’s before her
(And we cannot ignore her),
Injurious, and maybe a sin.
A little rhythm repair:
Yes Rickety Tickety Tin
Is a maiden whose actions have been,
Like Lizzie’s before her
(We cannot ignore her),
Injur-yus, and maybe a sin.
A boll’s a seed vessel, I’m told;
And “seedy” means “shabby and old”;
When I’ve worked half the night
And I look quite a fright,
I take pleasure in saying I’m bolled.
There are pilots a-plenty quite old
And those aerobatic’ly bold.
But so say the oath
That you cannot have both –
The inquest’s on Tuesday I’m told …
There’s many a tendon I’ve nursed
And how often I’ve landed head-first.
But likely dismissed
From the injury list –
A bruised ego is prob’ly the worst!
There was a poet getting old
who took to becoming less bold
thinking far less sedition
and phoning in competitions
and if anyone cared, he weren’t told.
On the Champs-Élysées I once strolled.
I was young and I was very bold.
Though I did not speak French,
I met a French wench.
And the rest of this shouldn’t be told.
I played tennis, I skied and I bowled,
Rode a bike in the heat and the cold.
But now as a rule
I play pocket pool.
Just try it. You’re never too old.
There’s this cat who’s sort of bold
He demands to be poemed in gold
Forgetting the days he was a stray
In the backyard where he’d stay
Now he’s used to all his meals bowled
In my Oculus world of illusion
I selected the game called ‘Confusion’
Oh, I scored pretty well
Till I spun and then fell
A new level achieved, called ‘Contusion’…
Injury
I told her a joint I have rolled.
She rushed over as if it were gold.
My ankle was twisted.
She gladly assisted.
Then suddenly knocked me out cold.
“Are you injured? Hire me, and we’ll sue!”
Said the billboard in red, white, and blue.
“The American way
Is to make someone pay;
You’ll get rich, and your lawyer will, too!”
A porn film director named Rob
Was known for the insults he’d lob.
One time, way back when,
He kept yelling at Ken
For limping along on the job.
Though my housemate was eager to scat,
She returned in ten minutes, if that,
Crying, “I just got rolled!”
I said, “Goodness, you’re bold.
I can’t do it that way. I lie flat.”
The clown who we call “Floppy Bob”
Broke his funny bone; started to sob.
I said, “Don’t be sad,
It can’t be that bad.”
He replied, I have just lost my job'”
I was treated for real bad bronchitis.
Then the doctor detected arthritis.
But the wound on my finger
Was sure a humdinger:
A sore know as “callbuttonitis”
The mugger cried out: “No more, please!”
As he cowered in pain on his knees;
Was soft in the head,
Or maybe brain-dead,
To think he could injure Louise.
He thought it was really a breeze
To zip down the slope on his skis;
Just as he yelled “Whee!”
Up popped a big tree,
And now he has two injured knees.
Saw them coming, and there were a-plenny
I’d say they were all about twenny.
Slashed my eyes; made me blind.
It was then hard to find
My fluky and charmed lucky penny.
Crystal Ball Super Bowl LVI…
“I do claim, if I may be so bold
That the score, pre-game CAN be foretold!”
“Hundred bucks says you can’t
Follow through with that rant!”
“Pay up now – nil to nil!”, I cajoled…
My in-jury took place in the court…
For my service, I’m proud to report
I survived the Voir Dire
But it soon became clear
Run-on sentences truly aren’t short!
Which is harder, my close friend cajoled
Hole-in-one, or twelve strikes when you bowled?
I can answer that fast
It’s whichever comes last…
And he had to admit he was SOLD!
Doctor Says:
“Your head injury’s still quite revealing.
I hope that you soon will be healing.
And soon as you leave,
I know you won’t grieve
If your start raising up your damn ceiling.”
A fish who was recently polled,
Said he’d rather be poled than be bowled.
“If I end up in batter,
The latter won’t matter,
Which simplifies life, so I’m told.”
I am secretly pleased that the limb
That I injured today at the gym
Needs a rest, ‘cause truth told,
I’m decrepit and old
And this spandex look’s getting quite grim.
I’ve been trying to work up the guts
To warn you: Stop eating those Utz!
At the pace you are going,
If you don’t start slowing,
Down soon you’ll have grown double butts!
So a bowler donned a bowler, then bowled
“But you can’t wear a hat here!”, he was told
Lucky Strike was his name
Turkeyed out the last frame
Made his ‘hat trick’ well worth the stern scold
A young ram, introduced to the fold,
Thought he’d win the ewes over if bold:
But the ladies, en masse,
Took offence at his brass,
And asserted their right to withhold.
It’s the termagant’s pleasure to scold.
And her husband? He dare not be bold.
Should he once raise his voice,
Or worse, exercise choice,
He will doubtless be punished fourfold.
I once met a buxom young lass,
Who was pretty and smart and had class.
But I must add sadly,
She injured me badly.
She gave me a pain in the ass.
Could the wearer of a bowler be called “bowled”?
That only seems logical, I’m told.
But it just wouldn’t matter
To a struggling hatter
Wanting his “headware shop” goods to be…sold.
My critics all cavil and scold.
My writing, they say, is too bold.
But I will be kind.
“Y’all PLEASE clear your mind
Of cobwebs and mildew and mold.”
Apparently, “Sweet’s never bowled.
I explained it and then clearly told
Her, “You have to rent shoes.”
She said, “Think I’ll choose
Some Prada pumps, hope they have gold.”
The gal was especially bold.
Of my hands she had taken firm hold
And pressed both to her breast.
I then made a request:
“May I take a brief rest?” (God I’m old.)
If you’re injured, and just can’t endure
The pain, you must always make sure
To go see your “Doc”
Do not count on the crock
Which is known as the Internet Cure.
Said the ram to his pal, “I’ve been told
‘There’s a flock of hot girls in that fold;
‘Why screw just one ewe?
‘I’m up for a few–
‘No time to be sheepish, but bold!”
His triumph, he told and re-told
To friends, for whom it got old;
The same worn-out story
Of long-ago glory–
The one perfect game that he bowled.
“Them there wenches of Stow-On-The-Wold, (Yes, it does exist.)
I’ve ‘eard tell they be wantonly bold”
“You belay that report!
They be none o’ the sort.
As it happens, they’m prissy, and scold.”
The mom seagull said, “Kids be bold,
By humans do not be cajoled,
Beware wings that flap
It may be a trap
For not all that flitters is gulled.”
If you wake up ill, just be bold
It may be your fate’s not foretold;
Your throat raw and sore
Could be Covid, sure
But maybe it’s just a damn cold.
When the jester fell down on his ass,
Part of him stayed in a mass
But part of him broke
And so the king spoke:
“We now know the fool is half glass!”
A robber named Jess James Borters
Ran into the mint, screaming orders:
“I want all the loot!”
Then he fell down a chute
And was horribly sliced into quarters.
A knight cuts the dick off a dragon
And wheels it around in a wagon
The dragon ignites
The once cocky knight’s
Which puts a quick end to his braggin’.
There once was a fellow named Gore
Whose nuts got shot off in the war
He said, “Have no fears,
I’m married 10 years
So don’t really need ’em no more.”
i’ve got selling on eBay down cold.
My best bargains I highlight in bold.
Say, can anyone use
My GREAT GRANDPAPPY’S SHOES?
I have sev’ral pairs left that aren’t sold.
(Coming soon to Limerick-Off: MAD’s ADS!)
Plaintiff ‘Tonto’ felt injured and shamed
The Lone Ranger, his ‘pal’, had defamed…
‘Faithful Friend’ his intent
“Idiot’s” what it meant…
Kemosabe ‘no sabe’, he claimed
Mr. Hunk becomes Mr. Shrunk
I had abs, I had pecs, I was bold.
I never did what I was told.
Years have passed, I have changed.
I’m so rearranged
And my body is overly rolled.
Ain’t been used in this ‘test, so I’m told…
It’s the vague and elusive word “bolled”…
It’s related to flax…
Thems the limited facts…
I’ve tried Info-Line – I’m still on hold…
“I want to go home to Mommy”
Joined the Navy, and boy! I was burly!
The guy in charge, wow! he was surly.!
I thought I was bold.
But Man! it was cold.
And we had to wake up so damn early.
If you’re writing a letter to scold
Use a font that is both hard and cold.
For your message to “shout”
And Mean it, – with clout,
Use all-cap’s Helvetica Bold.
Joined the Navy, I went with my brotha’
We’re He-Men! and ain’t like no otha’
We tried to be bold,
But became uncontrolled.
When the leader said, “I’m Not Your MOTHA”
It’s been 75 dates! It’s not that hard!
If your date grabbed the ball and then hurled
And all that it did was just twirled.
She sure never has bowled.
And you’re totally sold
That she’s here from some alien world.
The balls that errantly rolled
Each time he stepped up and bowled,
Wound up in the gutter,
Causing team-mates to mutter,
“Face it, the guy’s just too old.”
His friends thought him overly bold,
For hiking in sub-zero cold;
“What’s tough about this?
‘It won’t freeze my piss–
‘I can void it or put it on hold.”
A performer that we went to see,
hurled a boom’rang past row 43.
He called “Will it come back?”
A big biker in black
yelled “It Will if it Fuckin’ hits Me!”
Guess who?
He’s audaciously vulgar and bold
with a heart so remorseless and cold.
But always there’s hope
cuz we know that this dope
Has been so many million times LOL‘d.
“Half a loaf is preferred to no bread”?
I fear proverbs are turned on their head –
For we used to be told
“Fortune favors the bold”
But the bold favor fortunes instead.
“Lady cricketers? Crap!” he cajoled.
Shrugging her shoulders, eyes rolled,
She picked up a rock
Then aimed for his cock
And so bowled her own boulder, so bold!
Which author both daring and bold
Of betrayal and subterfuge told?
A spy thriller? I’d say
I’d pick John Le Carre –
And “The Spy who came in from the Cold”
As Sir Francis took aim for the jack,
The Armada was sighted. “Change tack!”
“Not until I have bowled!”
So the story is told,
But ‘tis thought he went straight to attack.
“On asserting myself I’m not sold.
I don’t know that I want to be bold.
Is that okay with you?
Well if not, then go screw!
I would rather just do as I’m told.”
The sweater, a gift from aunt Claire.
Mom said, “You write her than wear.”
It was ugly and old,
Got stubborn and bold.
And answered my Mom, “Well aware.”
No – they can’t replace heroes of old,
Like Fleming. So clever. So bold.
It must have been thrillin’
To find penicillin –
After making him God broke the mould.
I was once on a jury in Stoke.
The accused was a bearded black bloke.
I said, “That hairy ‘un
Isn’t an Aryan.”
It’s not a bad ‘in-jury’ joke.
Said Ernie one day, “Don’t be hurt,
But I’ve found someone new. Sorry, Bert.
His hand up my butt
All the way to my gut
Makes me feel more alive, less inert.”
A stuttering oarsman called Jorrocks
One day caught his balls on the rowlocks,
And though in great pain,
Merely said, with restrain,
“Oh f-f-f-f-f-f- bollocks!”
A young man working nude near a mangle
Had his cock pulled in by a clothes tangle.
When the pain fin’lly went
It was flattened and bent
And all it can now do is dangle.
Young Jane, a pole dancer “très chic”,
Was performing on stage, when a freak
Break of the pole,
Caused an injury droll,
And she couldn’t sit down for a week.
Comedians easily mock
Trump’s MAGA wing-nuts as they talk.
The crowd he commands
Has some blood on its hands;
From knuckles that drag when they walk.
I ran into Phyllis today.
No one told me her hair was so gray.
I’m glad the E.R.
Wasn’t really that far.
“Doc” Jones said I’ll soon be okay.
When his “urges” became more resurgent,
Cetain pleas to his wife grew more urgent:
“Now that I’m growing old,
I will need to get bold…”
So she bought him a box of detergent.
To the tree, I so steadfastly clung.
It felt like somehow I was stung.
I looked up; saw a tabby.
Who seemed rather crabby.
I guess that the cat got my tongue.
I fell head over heels meeting Mary.
She looked like a delicate fairy!
She just made me collapse.
I think that perhaps
The next time I’ll be much more wary.
Injun story that beggars belief:
– Constipation in need of relief.
– Told Doc “Big Chief, no fart”.
– On pills Doc did him start.
– Three days later ‘twas “Big Fart, No Chief”!
Those swingers’ beach clients were sold
On sunsets – both vivid and bold.
Then later that night
With the moon shining bright,
New members came into the fold.
What a wound, you should see how I bled.
Even worse, in the very next bed:
A heart-breaking case,
Oh, what a disgrace!
A gingerbread man with no head!
The Super Bowl might disappear.
The injuries, very severe!
The E.R’s so busy
All the doctors are dizzy
Healing cuts from those sharp cans of beer.
When you fell, Sir, were you all alone?
Bulging out, is a very weird bone!
I will help, you’re a wreck!
Can you just wait one sec?
Gotta get this cool scene on my phone.
Australia’s PM’s getting bold.
Deportation he wants to uphold.
He appealed to the court
To ban Novax from sport
But Novax has now been paroled.
I Always DO THIS!!
Right after our final embrace,
I realize it’s cold in our place.
So I pull up the spread
Right over my head.
Then I punch myself right in the face.
Some embarrassing moments, I’ll share.
I’m a klutz, so I must be aware
Of not tripping and slipping.
I always am flipping.
But what kind of schmuck chokes on air?
Clearly inspired by Mad’s limerick:
Reaching for the Gold ~
Your scanties weren’t mine to behold
but I stared as if they were pure gold:
both befront and behind
captivated my mind!
My wife stopped me when I seemed too bold.
I’d prefer to disarm a grenade —
While I shaved with a scimitar blade —
Over bathing my cat.
If I tried to do that
I would need a full-body band-aid.
Mad Kane’s challenges make my head ache.
Worked for hours on this with no break.
Then in horror I BAWLED
and scratched my head BALD
when I saw my dyslexic mistake.
Hey man, the dude abides!
For any of you who have bowled
Or has otherwise bowling balls rolled
You have to go see
“The Big Lebowski”
While on drugs, or even stone cold
The star athlete was injury-prone;
He made millions, but broke every bone.
Just by standing to pee,
He could shatter a knee,
Or his teeth on a soft ice cream cone.
Or have otherwise bowling balls rolled
(grammar)
Annual Injury Check(up) List
It was winter or spring (a close call),
Dodged a bullet, that’s all, at the mall.
I got hit by a Hummer
last summer — I’m numb-er.
But I didn’t get hurt in the fall.
“Jack and Jill” Visit The Doctor
Jack went skiing, (now wearing a frown)
Doctor Tumble said, “Jack broke his crown.”
Jill said, “He’d had wine
And could not read the sign:
“Do Not Let Common Sense Slow You Down”
Hubby Complains:
“I wish we were both in the black.
A laptop is somethin’ we lack.
I’ve got a bad sprain.
I’m in terrible pain.
This foottop is killin’ my back.”
Dear Mad’leine, well, lo and behold!
It’s time that the truth must be told!
So desperate am I,
That I asked some strange guy,
“Excuse me, have you ever bowled?”
At first, Millie thought she would drown.
Her face had one glowering frown.
Her legs painfully up,
All because this dumb schmuck
Neglected to put the seat down.
Have book and I’m ready, be bold.
Put creases in places where told.
It’s coming to light.
This idea’s not bright.
Origami my body, I fold.
There once was a fellow named Bud
Who told his wife she was a dud.
There was no repercussion
Save for the concussion,
Castration, prostration, and blood.
My coccyx I broke this week past
I’m learning who my friends are fast;
It seems there’s a dearth
Of people on earth
Who will write loving thoughts on my cast.
Three hundred, I never have bowled.
Though to Satan my soul I have sold.
I bowl right handed, y’all,
And I’d give my left ball
For just one more crack at the gold.
Cupid’s arrow has done me much harm.
That fool missed my heart, hit my arm.
I simply could die.
My love’s gone awry
To a schoolmarm without any charm.
“She’s a goddess! A sight to behold.
Would a frontal approach be too bold?
That I’m keen would be clear,
Far too much so, I fear.
P’raps a shower would be good – if it’s cold.”
They left always precisely at four.
Unbending accountants, a bore.
In the office not bold,
But in hay when they rolled.
There was bending contorting and more.
Sorry about this, but a necessary improvement in the last line.
“She’s a goddess! A sight to behold.
Would a frontal approach be too bold?
That I’m keen would be clear,
Far too much so, I fear.
P’raps a shower would be good – nice’n cold.”
“I’m more shy and retiring than bold,
Introspective to boot, truth be told.
I am happiest when
In the background, but then
I do love it when I am cajoled.”
“There are girls quite demure, we are told,
And then others outrageously bold.
They are all my delight,
Any time, day or night,
Or they would be if I had the gold.”
A beaten up bowling pin told
Of the way he’d been coyly cajoled:
“I misheard her when
This sexy young pin
Asked if I’d like to get bowled.”
Her buddies were hung, said the text.
So as leader of witches, she hexed.
Clear warning was bold,
The graveyard foretold.
New tombstone inscribed with, “You’re Next!”
Needed to change “hung” to “burned” so it didn’t appear that they were well-endowed buddies. Though, does that change anything?
Her friend had been burned, said the text.
So as leader of witches, she hexed.
Clear warning was bold,
The graveyard foretold.
New tombstone inscribed with, “You’re Next.”
If your hair style is simply not-cuttin’-it…
You’ll ‘be-long’ when it’s ‘in’ that you-wanna-fit
Shave your head, ‘Telly’ bold
Or go ‘Beatles’, get bowled…
Long and short is: you’re stylin’, just teased-a-bit!
So, there’s enTRIES in bulk quantities
Maybe safety in numbers, but please…
Thirty-four, she’s quite bold
And on Lisi, no mold
She’ll go green, but she’s still killin’ ‘TRIES…
“He composes instructions in bold.
Thinks it makes sure I do as I’m told.
He’s quite wrong. I don’t care.
I will do as I dare.
I’m his mother. It’s my role to scold.”
“It’s the gentleman’s cry, “Oh, well-bowled!”
When attending the cricket, I’m told.
For myself, I’m bemused …
That they get so enthused?
And the game is, I think, oversold.”
“What I said was, ‘You need to be bold.’
Not go in like a bull, uncontrolled.
Don’t blurt out what you want.
Try again, nonchalant.”
“Hello, ladies! I’ve just been paroled!”
“Don’t hold back, Doc’, just tell me the worst.”
“As you wish. You’ve no arms – they went first.
You’ll no longer need shoes—”
“Is there any good news?”
“You can still get it up when you’re nursed.”
Too dark?
English pronunciation please (Class = Clarse etc)
Wanda went to his spell-casting class
Then got angry when she failed to pass.
Now his precious rare wand
of which he was fond,
Casts spells (and bad smells) from his arse.
A publisher’s wife had grown cold
And turned into a bit of a scold.
Did he push back? No way.
It’s a pity to say
It seems only his typeface is bold.
n the sports news the headlines are bold
His Grand Slam record-breaker’s on hold.
Aced in his own sport
By Australian court
No-vax Novak’s now out in the cold.
From some daggered roof ice, he got nailed
It was gruesome, but quick – was impaled…
Lived aloof, funny thing
Didn’t find him till spring…
How poetic that no one was jailed
“So, you’re saying this blow to the head
Stole your memory?” “The old me is dead.
Crimes ‘he’ committed –
Defunct! I’m acquitted.”
“Well, in that case, we’ll frame you instead.”
“’Twas a blow to the head made me bold.
Under pressure, this blackguard would fold.
He of course, felt no pain
And he raised me – again,
Which convinced me that he had me cold.”
“Since the accident, things aren’t the same.
We were fun-loving, life was a game.
Now we live on the couch,
And we slouch and we grouch,
Sudden moves and it’s ‘Ouch!’ We’re so lame!”
“After two broken arms and one leg,
I surrendered – but he had to beg.
Once our contest was done
It was time to have fun,
And turns out he’s a pretty good egg.”
Tension mounts with the battle lines drawn…
It’s where courage and leaders are spawn
Cannon balls do abound
Wounded souls on the ground
Lighten up, it’s croquet on front lawn…
“Unkind words break no bones, it is claimed,
But some egos are shattered when shamed.
(Self-esteem might well die –
There’s no salve to apply.)
Vicious insults have crippled and maimed.”
To get naked in public is bold;
For one thing, you might catch a cold.
If a beautiful girl
Says “Let’s give it a whirl,”
Though, my answer to that is, “I’m sold!”
“It’s impossible game,” I had sputtered.
Then a string of profanity uttered.
The longer I bowled,
My teammates went cold.
With bumpers, still landing me guttered.
Heard he’s “striking” and also he’s bowled.
I too love to thrust, but I’m old.
Yet my eyelashes flutter,
And my mind’s in the “gutter”
With that info., he may just be sold.
“Oh, those trekkies were ever so bold,
Going deep and beyond to behold,
Worlds unknown until then.
Shown again – and again.
Mister RoddenB’s concept struck gold.”
Said Trump to the Queen: “Majesty,
Ya wanna do something for me?”
His request was quite bold:
A shower of gold
Involving the Queen’s “Royal Wee”.
“In my dream, I am naked in town.”
“Nothing on?” “Yes! I’m wearing a frown.”
“It’s not like you. It’s bold.”
“It’s a dream!” “Please don’t scold.
I prefer when you dream you’re a clown.”
“You can’t x-ray a heart that’s been broke’
By some callous and cavalier bloke.
So, don’t dwell upon that.
Pay him back, tit for tat.
Send him mountains of food – he may choke.”
Jury’s out on this Injury Debate
Oh, the word choice debate does continue…
So, just how much convincing is in you?
Tony’s ‘gammy’, I’m ‘gimpy’
Then there’s ‘dodder’ or ‘limpy’…
It’s the diff’rence ‘tween tendon and sinew!
John Wayne Bobbitt’s sad tale makes you cringe for he
Suffered a life-changing injury,
To all men’s disgust.
He had to adjust
And is now wearing feminine lingerie.
I dreamt that my lims had all sold,
For their wit and their style oh so bold.
Then awoke minus smile
As my eyes caught the pile, –
All withered and gathering mould.
A critic, – audacious and bold,
Said my rhymes were all corny and old.
He is now on the floor
With my large Volume Four, –
There’s some blood, and his body’s quite cold.
I clocked in, bit my tongue, on my shift…
All day long, operate a fork lift
Not construction, per se
I taste test, yes, for pay…
Workman’s comp, a day off, what a gift!
Many ways to be out, playing Cricket.
Run out, or be Leg-Before-Wicket
By the umpire told,
Caught out, or be bowled.
I’m done, up his arse he can stick it!
With full drink I came in like a bull
The result of a bad muscle.pull…
Tried to make the best of it
Self compose, rise above it
“How ironic, my glass is half full!”
Sombre surgeon, “You have to be told.
I regret, Ma’am, your husband’s clean bowled.
Middle stump and both bails.
When a fast ball assails …
We will do what we can to remould.”
For those unfamiliar with th finer points of cricket, there are three stumps, stuck upright into the ground. These are topped with the bails – there are two. Together, they comprise the wicket which is defended by the batsman against the bowler whose task it is to outwit the batsmen and knock the bails off the stumps. To do this, he will employ a number of different bowling techniques – the Yorker; the Googly; the fast ball – 100 miles per for a few; the slow bowl combined with spin. Clean bowled is when the bowler deceives the batsman and takes out the stumps without the batsman even touching the ball.
I offfer that as a twofer, by the way.
You do know the wherefores and whys
Those people are dropping like flies.
They’re felled by a virus.
Should that not inspire us
To get the vaccine? ‘Twould be wise.
1966: I upheld my beliefs! (just married)
Even though it is no longer sold,
I still fluff and of course, I then fold.
The new brides would use Tide.
But I wouldn’t abide!
I stood strong, and I used Liquid Bold.
(Now you can only get the powder)
Wearing her see through outfit was bold
Wind came through that made her butt cold
She called out for heat
That shot through her teeth
What a sight, she looked like a mole
The man tried to catch a foul ball
But his body was too tall
The ball hit his ribs
Then hit his small Dibbs
Which bounces him into a wall
To Republicans try to be kind,
But first, you will have to go find
One who proudly admits
That the epithet fits;
And no doubt, he’ll be out of his mind.
1977: Children Just Don’t Listen!
My 9 year old, daring and bold
(Disrespectful, and so uncontrolled)
Didn’t know I was peeking.
Sure enough, he was sneaking!
And pulled off his hat in the cold.
(a disgrace)
Better Grammar: 1977
My 9 year old, daring and bold
(Disrespectful, and so uncontrolled)
Was incredibly cheeky
And just so darn sneaky
That he pulled off his hat in the cold.
I was speechless, with tears in my eyes.
Oh my! Who could ever surmise?
Johnny, handsome and bold
Said, “My Love, here’s a gold
Ring, the best Cracker Jack Prize.”
Adding One More Word To Line Five
I was speechless, with tears in my eyes.
Oh my! who could ever surmise?
Johnny, handsome and bold
Said, “My Love, here’s a gold
Dazzling ring, the best Cracker Jack prize.”
New York Tourism Is Picking Up, The Art Of The Deal
Mr. Parker, so dashing and bold.
Had a pitch that just glittered like gold.
He was selling a tower,
Which was known for its “power”
Cause the bridge had already been sold.
Truth is stranger than Fiction
My earlier verse I rebut.
Bobbitt’s dick’s re-attached to his nut.
He reckoned he’s game,
With his newly found fame,
Made a porno “John Bobbitt Uncut!”
Paul the playwright couldn’t wait to begin it
With an Obie his goal – out to win it!
Pyrotechnics went BAD
The explosion was SAD…
And the rest of his cast? He’s still in it…
She remembers those days when she’d rhumba
Now she just needs some peace and more slumba.
She’s not feeling too bold;
She has aches, and she’s old,-
But still Loves lunch in bed with cucumba!
He was proud to be known far and wide
For the lions that lived by his side.
One day (on their whim)
He was torn limb from limb,
But none of it injured his Pride.
Sometimes bi-weekly words can grow mold
Not conducive to spark too much LOL’d
We’re tapped out for more clever…
So it’s time, now or never
Well digested, just flush it once bowled
Blacks and blues and some streaks of chartreuse,
Are the hues in my homemade tattoos.
Such rich colors bring pride
To my leathery hide.
It seems snide when folks label them “Bruise.”
The star of the show, I don’t kid,
He tripped and went into a skid.
His mother had said:
“Break a leg, go ahead.”
And that’s what on stage he then did.
While making their lunch, feeling edgy,
The knife slipped. “Here’s your sandwich”, said Reggie.
“Great! I’m starving”, she said.
“… But there’s blood on the bread –
I told you, I only eat veggie!”
A new lover she went out to seek.
She was good at both French and at Greek.
She was sipping a latte
And wore her best schmatte.
It hurt her to be less than chic.
The Ukraine situation’s “the worst”
Putin plans an injurious outburst.
To keep Russia’s hand off
And de-fuse the standoff
The U.S. will try Blinken first.
Walking the plank an indicator.
A pirate will meet his creator.
But they don’t cower,
Or take a shower.
They’ll washup on shore later.
Hockey players if you’re not aware.
Summer teeth can give a scare.
If you don’t glean,
Just what I mean.
Summer here, summer over there.
Breaking her finger, a sign.
An accident involving wine.
It was not grand,
But on the other hand,
She still was completely fine.
When a robot loses his grease.
Then all his movement will cease.
Not much to say,
We can all pray,
That he will then rust in peace.
There was a blond with no clues.
Alligator shoes were in the news.
She shot a gator,
Then found out later,
Alligators don’t wear shoes.
With a chainsaw not sure how.
He cut off his left side, ow!
It sounds very sad,
But you can be glad,
Because he is all right now
A show business phrase from the past
Had safety precautions out-classed.
“Now go – break a leg!”
Seemed to say “please, I beg
For you to wind up in a cast.”
Ev’ry morning I stand at my sink.
Such tame rituals help me to think.
But today — being bold —
I’ve done damage untold:
Worked my New York Times crossword in INK!
The truth is that I’ve never bowled;
Let’s see – how does this thing get rolled?
Each ball – out of sight;
All the pins still upright.
“Your mind’s in the gutter.” I’m told.
I can’t count all the games that I’ve bowled
In these shoes now all moldy and holed.
But, a buyer I’ll catch
If I glue on a patch;
Time to get them resoled and resold.
With stock market decline uncontrolled.
It’s time for a move that is bold.
It should be no shock,
I’ll sell some more stock.
I think it is time for some gold.
Has the whole bloody world gone insane?
More invasive political pain.
It was really badass
To take over Donbass
When Putin went into Ukraine
Now Russia says “Kyiv, it is clear
We have soldiers surrounding you here.
Though NATO will nag
About games with false flag
It’s too late, now please meet Vladimir!
Injury Theme: “I Always Do This” from January 13, at 9:18 PM
THIS is the correct chronology of my klutziness:
Right after our final embrace,
I realize it’s cold in our place.
As I’m pulling the spread
To reach over my head,
I punch myself right in the face.
Another Correction Which Will Make More Sense:( from Jan 18, at 6:40)
New York City: The Art Of The Deal.
“The RESURRECTION Of George C. Parker”
George Parker, so dashing and bold,
Had a pitch that just glittered like gold.
He sold us a tower,
Which was known for its “power”
Cause the bridge had already been sold.
Poker face, eye-to-eye, bluff or fold…
(Oh, you only live once, so be bold)
“I can’t now!”, my excuse…
Then mom tightened the noose
“It’s just laundry – now do as you’re told!”
“You’re an artist! You have to be bold!
Wild and reckless – you know, uncontrolled!
It will make the girls faint—”
“I don’t know how to paint!”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s art. They’ll be sold.”
I don’t want to sound like a whinger,
But my toe was so painful to injure
When I gave a hard kick
To a wall made of brick
As I practised the ways of a Ninja.
To eat a blue cheese, truth be told,
Is an action both risky and bold.
It could lead to your doom,
As that stuff you consume
Is old cow-juice all shot through with mold.
“My feelings by Biden are hurt,”
Said Putin, not wearing a shirt.
To soothe all my pain
I’ll invade the Ukraine;
I miss Donald. He’d chase any skirt.”
Mything Link?
Of two siblings, one Grim and one Bold,
“All I touch,” boasted one, “turns to gold.”
“Same for me,” said the other
while gripping his brother,
“What I clutch always ends up stone cold.”
He blew himself up with much delph.
It wasn’t for fame or for wealth.
The soldier then curiously,
Took it quite seriously.
He wanted to C4 himself.
The baby snake asked his mum.
Am I poisonous, being so young?
Yes, this is true.
What did you do?
He said, “I just bit my tongue”.
One more Myth-conception…
Of the Trojan War, what came to pass
Was Achilles’ war prize princess lass
Though his wound was his heal
She said, “Here’s the REAL deal…
He was more of a pain in the ass.”
Ah, the brassiere worn over the should-ers,
Designed to support two large bould-ers,
Is precisely the thing
To dampen the swing
Yet heighten the gaze of behold-ers.
Our team was just cruising along;
Their playing so balanced and strong.
But injuries won;
Now the season is done.
The boo-birds are singing their song.
Seeing poison ivy would suck.
Near a four-leaf clover you pluck.
But don’t be a baby,
For you just maybe,
In for a rash of good luck.
Attention all Limerick-Off Stragglers: The current Limerick-Off ends tomorrow, Saturday, at 4 pm (Eastern time.) So please get your limerick stragglers in.
If I may make so bold
It’s not though Donald is old,
That he is immature,
Vain and insecure
He must be told and be told and be told.
I Do try to not cross the line,
And Some lines I’ve written are fine.
But when thoughts get too bold
While my line is on hold,
I walk the line, – straight to my wine!
Oh meter! Oh meter! Oh meter!
You’re sloppy. You stumble. You teeter
All over the place
And fall flat on your face.
You MUST mind your feet to be neater.
The hitch-hiker’s feeling quite glum,
And he thinks that it may have been dumb –
Stuck his hand out too fast
As a lorry shot past.
Now he’s waving goodbye to his thumb.
“Get Out of Ukraine,” he’s been told
But to Putin, the War is still Cold.
I mean what is he thinkin’,
Blinken ain’t blinkin’.
It’s time for the West to be bold.
There once was a girl from Hoboken
Whose way to show love wasn’t spoken.
Alas, it was fate
When she found a soul mate
That his willy would quickly be broken.
Hi, Rudy. Though I guess meter may not always be a laughing matter,
I’m laughing at your “Oh meter!….”
My feet splay, go astray, and won’t stay with me.
They are woefully willful. They play with me.
Maybe lopping a toe’ll
Establish control.
Oops! There they go again, having their way with me.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun two weeks of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 487. Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Prime.