There once was a storm in my head Simulposting, made ‘Rosie’ turn red Lim’rick experts beware, Backseat drivers take care, Frequent stops in our mainstream you’ll spread.
Very good Rosie! I'm writing this verse 'coz I'm bored using time that I cannot afford so much else I should do such as sit on the loo and flush when I once find the cord.
I've got rather a tickly cough And my tonsils are feeling quite rough As I sit here in Slough And think this all through I feel a bit better now, though.
In the Highlands when new moon is full Little lassies will give a hand pull After while they will suck And if you are in luck You may mount them in kilts made of wool.
In order to seem more appealing I'll plaster myself to the ceiling From my lofty abode 'bove the family Spode I'd welcome a cup of Darjeeling .. from around 11 years ago - remember penelope and Kim being involved :-)
Don Quixote, a knight of La Mancha Sallied forth on a life of advancha He lived for the thrills Of tilting at mills Accompanied by Sanzo Pancha.(I know, but it rhymes better this way.)
I studied Midsummer Night's Dream Where Bottoms are not what they seem And nosegays abound Puck a girdle puts round And Titania takes one for the team(It was 30 years ago, and I've read no Shakespeare since)
This is sort of a companion piece to Phil's earlier version of 'The Band Played Waltzing Matilda' Will McBride, well I'm dead on my feet But these poppies, they look really neat! And so I'm here to tell You that though war is hell You'll find history doomed to repeat
When the train stopped one hot afternoon Adlestrop, I remember. 'Twas June. Hay and meadowsweet, dry. Scarce a cloud in the sky. While the birds of two shires sang their tune.
[Chalky] That was one of the several poems I was supposed to study for O-Level Eng. Lit. I managed a B, thanks to reading Lord of the Flies about 6 times, and Midsummer Night's Dream not being too dreary. I didn't like poetry then and, to be honest, I'm none too keen now, with a handful of exceptions. But I hated Adlestrop. Perhaps my English teacher (Mr Collins, a moron) would be pleased with my work at last :)
[CdM] Hidden textOn reflection, I don't think I've ever seen a book of great works reduced to a Limerick abstract. Might I venture Limeriture, Limarature , Limericture or Literick as a working title?
[Phil, pen] Well, the best example I know is by Wendy Cope.Hidden textQuite what Wendy Cope is doing on a Best American Poetry< site is a mystery to me On the other hand, she required five limericks for a single work, so we are clearly five times as good.
Also, I should note that while Phil, I and particularly Raak have been the most prolific on this theme, Kim supplied a nice entry as well, and there might be others I am forgetting.
On a topical note: We all know that roses are red, And violets are blue, it is said. But this lovesick old rogue Thinks like Kylie Minogue And I can't get you out of my head
Reposting from MCiOS's "HULK NEGOTIATE!": What a wonderful verse form is this! Sonneteers can all go take a piss! Short, merry, and sweet And as fast as bird's tweet With my lady it surely can't miss!
My wife is a Lady, I think, Cause her knickers are narrow, and pink On the rim there is lace, On the bottoms a trace, Of the finest of beaver and mink.
On the ides of March Caesar was slain "Et tu, Brute!" he cried out in vain But Mark Antony knew How the public to woo The conspirators died for their gain.
Here's one I wrote on the Google game at MCiOS, in response to "beer limericks". On the thirty-first day of December I drank seventeen pints of Knee-Trembler(I had to -- any less wouldn't scan) I then climbed a tree And took a long pee That was certainly one to remember!
Off the top of my head, as a month has passed: When I hear Lenny Henry (that crooner) Say a word like "safari", I'd sooner, That a language so maimed By a Brummie, be named "Dudley Bantu" by Reverend Spooner.
A salty old sailor once said If I never had sex I’d be dead Cause I’ve sailed seven seas, And I’ve ate all my peas, And I'm really quite horny when fed.
One from the last pilg, which is a little mucky, but definitely stuck in my mind: Traversing the Cam in a punt I performed an incredible stunt I spun round the pole Did an eskimo roll While pleasuring Jeremy Hunt
The question of whether to live Resolves all my thoughts like a sieve If this too solid flesh Were dissolved in a mess There would be no goddammit to give.
As I went out one Saturday night I'm embarrassed to tell you my plight But my belt buckle broke And I mooned a poor bloke So he screamed and then ran out of sight
Sometimes I sits here and I thinks Sometimes I sits here and I thinks Sometimes I just sits here Sometimes I just sits here Sometimes I sits here and I thinks
When your thinking is over dear friend And your worries has come to an end Then it’s time to start over Roll around in the clover And a new stupid game to attend
He'd avoided the old hangman's noose From the gallows he had gotten loose There's no rope 'round his neck But, Hey! What the heck? Now it's wrapped 'round his caboose.