I fought seeing The Fighter for reasons I explain in my limerick review. But I’m glad I succumbed:
The Fighter, A Limerick Review
By Madeleine Begun Kane
I tend to hate films about fighting.
Cuz I cringe at the punching and smiting.
But The Fighter is more
About fam’ly than gore.
So see it. I promise — no biting.
(The Fighter stars Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams, and Melissa Leo.)
Once again, it’s Limerick-Off time. And that means 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.
So I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A sports-loving fellow named Lee…
Here’s mine:
Sporty Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A sports-loving fellow named Lee
Had a very bad elbow and knee,
Which he blamed on a fall
Suffered playing pro ball,
But he only knew sports from TV.
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 in my Facebook Limerick-Off post.
To receive an email alert whenever I post a new Limerick-Off, please send me an email requesting the alerts. You’ll find my email address on the upper right sidebar, in the “Author” section just below my Limerick-Offs button. Thanks!
My pal Pat McGuire’s latest Unfinished Limerick Contest involves football, the NFL playoffs, and a disgusting-sounding drink called glug.
Since I hate football and would much rather drink tequila than glug, I wrote my own limerick, instead of finishing Pat’s:
Ugh!
By Madeleine Begun Kane
You can’t tempt me with something called glug
In a glass or a cup or a mug.
Plus I hate watching sports
Played on fields or on courts.
So the playoffs? Won’t cheer — I’ll just shrug.
(I won’t be watching The New Orleans Saints play the Seattle Seahawks; or The New York Jets play the Indianapolis Colts; or The Baltimore Ravens play the Chiefs; or The Green Bay Packers play the Philadelphia Eagles. But if you’re a football fan, I hope you enjoy yourselves … and that you don’t lose any big bets.)
Once again, it’s Limerick-Off time. I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A guy who was drunk and lacked smarts…
Here’s mine:
Drunken Limerick (Drunken Limerick Audio)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A man who was drunk and lacked smarts
Was playing a bar game of darts.
His dart throw went wild
And he injured a child.
He should stick to a card game like hearts.
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 in my Facebook Limerick-Off post.
To receive an email alert whenever I post a new Limerick-Off, please send me an email requesting the alerts. You’ll find my email address on the upper right sidebar, right above my photo. Thanks!
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A woman succumbed to a whim…
Here’s mine:
Whimsical Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A woman succumbed to a whim
And enrolled in an overpriced gym.
She tried free weights, machines,
Even yoga for teens,
Till she ran out of money and vim.
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 in my Limerick-Offs.
I’m not exactly a sports aficionado. But I’m guessing it’s safe to presume that most games are expected to be noisy.
Apparently, though, South African soccer fans take such noise to a new ear-piercing level, enthusiastically blowing vuvuzelas in the stadiums. What’s a vuvuzela? Well, I know from oboes, but not from vuvuzelas. However, I’ve just learned they’re cacophonous, droning, deafening horns (blown like a brass instrument) that are driving TV World Cup viewers insane.
Vive Vuvuzelas? Please, No! (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Attempting to watch World Cup soccer?
Then you’re likely to go off your rocker:
Vuvuzelas abound
With their loud, droning sound.
They are deafening. Help! Need a blocker!
Jesse Levy, a Facebook pal of mine who participates in my Limerick-Offs, has challenged me and fellow Facebook friends to write a limerick starting with this line:
There once was a swimmer named Dean.
I love a good challenge, so I wrote this three-verse limerick in response:
There once was a swimmer named Dean.
He was swift and his breast stroke was mean.
When he raced he would win.
He thought losing a sin.
The guy was a swimming machine.
When he finally lost, he freaked out
And suffered a confidence drought —
Could not handle defeat.
He determined to beat
Up the fellow who won his last bout.
Poor Dean does not swim anymore.
He’s in prison, according to lore,
For killing that swimmer.
His weapon? Hedge trimmer.
Yes, that’s how he settled his score.
As I’ve mentioned before, figure skating is the only sport I enjoy watching on television.
And as much as I was rooting for American skater Evan Lysacek to win the men’s figuring skating gold, I do admire Russia’s Evgeni Plushenko. In fact, I was looking forward to seeing if he could land himself a second gold medal.
But I join many of Plushenko’s fans in being disappointed by his ungracious post-long-program remarks.
After U.S. skater Evan Lysacek took the 2010 men’s figure skating Olympic gold and Plushenko was relegated to silver, Plushenko seemingly put Evan and the other contenders down, saying:
Overall my basic position and attitude is that movement needs to go forward and never stop, never go back. I think people need to do lots of quads.”
As McClatchy’s Gil LeBreton observes:
Because the Russian skater was the only one in the room who does quads, his remarks Thursday night came across as self-serving — sour grapes, unbecoming of a guy who thought he could take three years off from the sport and then dance in and steal the gold medal.
Plushenko, quadruple jump and all, received the silver medal in Thursday night’s men’s figure skating finals. U.S. skater Evan Lysacek, who attempted no quads in his dramatic, near-flawless performance, was rewarded with the gold.
This brings me to my latest limerick:
Thin-Skinned Plushenko Skating On Thin Ice?
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Dear Plushenko, your program was fine,
But did not deserve gold, so don’t whine.
Stop implying your quad
Should have earned you the nod.
Evan beat you. His skate was divine.
This probably sounds un-American, but I never watch football on television … or anywhere else, for that matter. Not even the Super Bowl.
Okay, maybe the half-time show for the musical acts. (I love The Who!) And perhaps a commercial or two, if my husband’s hysterical laughter gets my attention. But that’s it!
Super Bowl Sunday Blues (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
I rarely watch sports on TV.
Figure skating is all that I’ll see.
So on Super Bowl Sunday,
I dream about Monday.
Till then, from our screen I must flee.
What’s with prominent celebrities and pols whose last names begin with “W”? Joe Wilson, Kanye West, and Serena Williams have all made unspeakably rude public asses of themselves during the last few days. And so the worlds of politics, entertainment and sports have all come together in a sad celebration of awful behavior followed by inadequate apologies.
Here’s my limerick tribute to their unseemly public tirades:
Ode To Incivility
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Must pols and celebs be so rude?
And display a despicable ‘tude?
Misters Wilson and West
And Ms. Williams, it’s best
To attempt not to act so unglued.
Sorry for the delay, but though my cast is finally off, I’m still having wrist problems.
Today’s limerick, haiku, and senryu theme is vacations. First, my limerick, which was inspired by my husband Mark:
Vacation Verse
By Madeleine Begun Kane
My husband is swimming outdoors.
I expect he’ll be back when it pours,
Which it threatens to do
Ev’ry day, so he’s blue.
Yes, vacations are rain guarantors.
And now my haiku (senryu):
I’m on vacation,
Yet here I am writing verse.
Give it a rest, brain.
Now, of course, it’s your turn. Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to write some verse about vacations. When you’ve posted your poem(s), please return here and add a direct link to your themed poetry, using Mr. Linky. There’s no rush, by the way, because you have until August 1st to post it.
| 1. Noah 2. Noah 3. Granny Smith 4. Bev 5. Bev |
6. Shark Girl 7. Michelle 8. Linda – Nickers and Ink 9. The Mane Point 10. Beaman’s World |
11. MomCat 12. Random Short Stories 13. Mrs. Brownstone @ XBOX Wife |
UPDATE: Mr. Linky is now closed, but you can still add links to your vacation-related verse in the Comments. And if you’d like to participate in a new poetry prompt, you can always find my latest one here.
These two horse-related poems were loosely inspired by this week’s Totally Optional Prompt:
First, a limerick:
A Horse of A Different Color
By Madeleine Begun Kane
There are folks who succumb to a weakness
For races like Belmont and Preakness.
But there’s only one horse
Race I’ll bet on—the course
To the White House—a sign of my geekness?
And now, a haiku about New York City:
Trumpeting cars horns.
Clip-clopping carriage horses.
Central Park Sunday.
(You can find more of my horse humor here.)
My husband Mark and I were never meant to own a motor boat. Why not? Any couple who can’t figure out how to open their car hood, should probably stick to something propelled by oars. And we surely would have done just that, had the prior owner of our weekend home not made it a package deal. If we wanted his irresistible house, we’d have to spring for his 120 horse power boat — perfect for anyone whose idea of relaxation is charging across a rocky three mile lake at the speed of screams.
OUR FIRST TIME OUT: My husband — a man who can build a wood stove fire in a flash, who whips up gourmet feasts in fifteen languages — couldn’t figure out how to unhook the boat’s cover. Refusing my help, he struggled for an hour. Victorious at last he hurled the cover off, in the process spilling gallons of water all over the boat.
By then I was ready to bail out. But Mark handed me a pail, and we spent the next 45 minutes heaving water overboard. Once all the water was safely under the boat, it was time to begin boating. I optimistically climbed onto our 16 footer, while my husband worked the knots from ashore. A former boy scout, he did this rather well. So well, that the boat (free at last) started to drift without him. …. (Motor Boating Just Isn’t Our Speed continues here.)
The last time I went bowling, I aimed my ball so badly, it went flying diagonally and landed in a neighboring lane. (On the other hand, I’m not half-bad at Wii-Bowling.)
I’m Not Bowled Over By Bowling
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Don’t ask me to bowl. I’m the worst.
When I try to, I’m bound to be cursed.
Other bowlers complain:
“You must aim for your lane!”
No more bowling, unless I’m coerced.
Surmounting Marriage
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Before agreeing to marry my husband Mark, I asked him the usual questions:
Mark told the appropriate fibs, I pretended to believe him, and several months later we wed. But soon after the wedding, I realized I’d forgotten to ask the most important question of all: When you see a mountain, do you get an irresistible urge to do something stupid? (Surmounting Marriage is continued here.)
How’s this for a corporate nightmare? Every Segway Personal Transporter ever manufactured has been recalled due to a “software glitch in the scooters that can make riders fall.”
This recall calls out for a limerick, don’t you think? So here’s my Ode To The Segway Scooter:
The maker of scooters called Segway
Has recalled them from road, walk, and hedgeway.
Their software’s quite galling.
It’s prone to cause falling.
Now lawyers have fresh “we allege” prey.
“You’re gonna swing dance in this weather? Are you insane?”
I’ve been asked that a lot lately, which isn’t surprising when you consider this summer’s humidity and heat wave. New York City’s weather has been so unbearable, that felons have switched from car theft to stealing AC’s. … (Jump, Jive, and Sweat is continued here.)
UPDATE: Happy International Dance Day! (April 29th)
Do you and your spouse argue about how to spend your spare time? Togetherness can be tough to achieve when a couple’s interests just don’t jibe. But this contract may be just the cure for your spare time blues.
AGREEMENT entered into on _____, 20__ between opera-buff Wife and sports-fan Husband.
WHEREAS, Husband has been badgering Wife to attend a ball game for as long as they’ve been married, and he has never managed to reach first base;
WHEREAS, Wife has been pressuring Husband to go to the opera for years, and Husband is running out of excuses; and
WHEREAS, Husband and Wife know that if they don’t resolve this soon, each will be attending all functions solo.
NOW, THEREFORE, the parties hereby agree to the following spare time terms:
1. Wife will attend one ball-type game, the selection of which shall be in Husband’s sole discretion, and Husband will attend one opera performance, the selection of which shall be in Wife’s sole discretion. In exercising such discretion, both spouses will keep in mind that divorce lawyers are really expensive … (Sparring Over Spare Time is continued here.)
Tubing — the masochistic act of hurtling down a fall-fraught river while clinging to an inner tube. Somehow my husband Mark talked me, a devout wimp, into trying it.
Why did I go along for the rocky river ride? Perhaps I was dazed by the beauty of the Catskill Mountains’ Esopus River. Perhaps the brave (or foolish) teens who plunged heedlessly into the Esopus shamed me into it. Or maybe I was feeling guilty for being a perennial naysayer. Whatever the reason, one summer day I broke my first rule of survival: If they advise helmets, avoid it.
Before risking the river we signed a paper saying our survivors couldn’t sue. Then Mark paced while I interrogated the clerk about safety. Jagged rock protection was high on her (and my) list. Sneakers for the feet, a helmeted head, and plywood in the tube to protect the tush.
After a short, steep bus ride up river, the driver said “Just throw your tubes into the river and get in.” He pointed towards what looked suspiciously like waterfalls.
Foolish me, I’d assumed there’d be an attendant to provide advice, guidance, and moral support. And to hold the damn tube in place long enough for me to lower myself onto it and grab its pathetic excuse for handles. At the very least, they could have posted a sign saying, “Start your death ride here.” … (Tubing Blues is continued here.)
Mad Kane (Madeleine Begun Kane) is a writer, musician, and "recovering lawyer." She won the Robert Benchley Society Award For Humor and enjoys writing limericks, song parodies, and current events haiku.
You can email her at madkane@madkane.com, visit her political humor blog, or stop by her home page.
You are currently browsing the archives for the Sports Humor category.
