Best linericks by Paulh for 2012
Created | Updated Dec 6, 2012
She left all her Christmas lights on
From sunset till long after dawn.
When they were turned off,
She developed a cough,
And all she could do then was yawn
When it's tea time in old Boston town,
We call for our old, trusted clown .
He brings in a tray
With cheese and pate,
And dares us to keep it all down.
You'll live as long as you are meant to,
Your genes the instructions they sent you.
Be prudent or daring,
Coldhearted or caring,
But return all the cash the mob lent you!
My birth was in one nine four eight.
Of that year, I've naught to relate.
They tell me I cried,
'Cause my ears hurt inside.
They don't any more. That's just fate.
In the fifties the fallout we feared,
And millions of shelters appeared.
We read "On the Beach."
Peace seemed out of reach.
The Russians and Chinese we jeered
My dentures have minds of their own.
Corn on the cob makes them groan.
An apple a day?
They'd soon run away.
I won't even try mutton bone.
New Jersey is far from my home,
As far as Seattle from Nome,
But Hurricane Sandy
Hit all that was handy,
And covered the wreckage in foam.
A button fell off of my pants.
The seamstress could tell at a glance
I was in great trouble.
She sewed on the double.
Now I can vacation in France.
I'd love to vacation in Spain,
Which has all that rain on its plain,
Acorn-eating pigs,
Some olives and figs,
And grammar that's hard to explain.
Tornadoes don't give you much warning.
They're something you shouldn't be scorning.
They're scary to see.
They can uproot a tree,
And totally ruin your morning.
I played music of Woody Herman.
I played it last night for a German.
He liked it just fine.
We both had some wine,
And then listened to Ethel Merman.
If I clean my plate thrice a day,
I'll keep all starvation at bay.
One less hungry soul.
That's surely my role
On this screwed up planet to play.
The limerick is quite a fine form.
It seems like a workable norm,
Whereas a haiku
Seems quite strange and new,
Like fitting a whale in your dorm.
I lived with some friends in old Boston.
The street where I lived I got lost in.
My doorbell I rang,
And saw the old gang.
Without a pause, I just got tossed in
There once were some Siamese twins
Who liked scuba diving with fins.
The sharks were no trouble.
They thought they saw double,
And fled to some ancient ruins
I've not taken classes in years,
But often a nightmare appears:
I've papers to write,
Must stay up all night,
And too soon the old deadline nears.
Swordfish and eels don't amuse me.
Their visits would only confuse me.
I'm pushing this notion:
Keep them in the ocean.
I'm positive they won't refuse me
I knew some good friends who got sick
Vacationing in Limerick.
I asked, "Was it the food?"
They said, "Don't be rude!
An orn'ry mule gave us a kick!"
The last time I had an adventure
Was when a large frog grabbed my denture.
He plunged in the pool,
And I, like a fool,
Jumped in and sold him a debenture.
Although that ol' froggy I chased
Around that whole pool in great haste,
The dentures stayed lost,
So I bore the cost
Of having the dentures replaced.
Hogs do not like being roasted.
Be careful if ever you've boasted
Of skill with a skewer.
There'snothing more sure
Than porcine revenge when they're toasted.
A poor dog once slipped on the ice.
The rest of us laughed once or twice.
The pooch wasn't hurt.
He seemed quite alert.
He even vacationed in Nice.
Be kind to your four-footed friends.
Someday you'll find your life depends
On some rescue pup
Who bravely shows up,
And you from attackers defends.
The potatoe's a stick-in-the-mud,
A go-nowhere, ignorant spud,
But chips, sticks, or fries?
Just see how he flies,
Until he's washed down with a Bud
I was wearing my new magic vest
Which smelled a lot like orange zest.
Some ferrets popped out
And a rabbit with gout,
And even the Witch of the West.
My magic vest's gone to the cleaner.
The one I wear now is much meaner.
The cat hates my guts.
The dog thinks I'm nuts.
My only friend left is a wiener.
What was I going to say?
Forgetful I'm getting today.
A song about larks?
Some ill-thought remarks?
A fishing trip out in the Bay?
To a friend with insomnia:
Sleep you will soon get, my dear.
My verses bring slumber, I fear.
It once wasn't so,
But now I'm, you know,
The best sleeping pill of the year!
Timing's not everything, though,
For many can'r help but be slow,
While others whiz past,
Unaware they're so fast,
But all get where they want to go.
There was a tomato organic,
Whose moods ran from gloomy to manic.
Pureed into sauce,
She shone with high gloss,
But caused pasta lovers to panic
I'm having a wonderful day,
But wish I could gaze at the Bay.
From here, I can't see,
It won't come to me,
And to travel -- well, it's a long way.
It's Dye Day. The girls all are there
To get nice new hues for their hair,
And soon, I believe,
They'll be dyeing to leave,
The bills with their husbands to share
Sooner or later we drift
To topics of food, sex, or thrift.
Or sometimes it's tea
--I'll have mine with pastry.
Perhaps that'll give me a lift.
A limerick containing a joke --
So rich that it might make you choke --
Was what I had planned,
But then it got canned,
So I've substituted some hoke.
Mice always like peanut butter.
I know, 'cause I hear the mice mutter.
They smell it and drool,
But they're nobody's fool.
Don't set traps! Just go and putter.
Lear had a great sense of fun.
You smiled at almost every one
Of his wacky rhymes.
Such lovely pastimes,
Like that 'bout a goose and nun
Don'tpanic! I'm here till the end.
The limerick is still my good friend.
When will the end come?
When I'm blind, deaf, and dumb?
Or when to the madhouse I trend?
Potatoes, when fried in hot lard,
Tender inside, outside hard,
A real gourmet feast,
But a terrible beast:
Your artery walls will be marred.
Aging's a terrible bore.
Can't eat what I want any more.
My joints often ache.
I'm tired when I wake;
And women don't chase any more.
[That needs a better last line]
Aging's a terrible bore.
Can't eat what I want any more.
My joints often ache.
I'm tired when I wake.
Can't hear people unless they roar
The wolf in the hairdo salon
Said, "Give me a coif before dawn.
I turn back to a girl.
My hair loses its curl.
My beautiful dye job's all gone!"
I lived in a bottomless pit,
And didn't care for it a bit.
I climbed many stairs,
Escaped all my cares.
I'm free now, but have a large zit.
Pliny was born in old Gaul.
I wean he was ripe for a fall.
Vesuvius found out
And gave him a clout.
He nevermore went to the Ball.
I think King Lear would be proud
To know his name was said aloud.
Oblivion thwarts
Dreams of many cohorts,
But Lear's on an immortal cloud.
The Limerick King we should cheer.
His rhymes oftentimes do endear.
Some birds in one's beard,
Or stuff twice as weird?
We're happy to know Edward Lear!
"Am I a poet?" he said.
"Not now, but you are not yet dead.
In time you will master
Poetic disaster,
For then you'll be weird in the head."
My train of thought heads for the junction,
Without purpose, goals, or compunction.
My sleeping car's hot,
The diner is not.
The engine has lost all its function
Gorillas don't dance very well.
Their feelings get hurt if you tell,
So just let them lead.
If your feet start to bleed,
Sit out the next dance. Do crewel.
Ghosts are quite hard to explain.
It's simpler predicting the rain.
Can you make a list
Proving they don't exist?
If you do, then they'll prob'ly complain.
If ghosts do exist, maybe we
Can examine their fam-i-ly tree.
Have they secrets to hide?
Did they use cyanide
In great-granddad's ravioli?
The dog lumberjack was a sight!
I hope the poor dog was all right.
You never can tell.
How was his sense of smell?
His bark, was it worse tha his bite?
Limerick construction takes care.
At best, it is lighter than air,
At worst like concrete,
With seven left feet,
And very lopsided derriere.
One day, while I stood on my head,
With horror I saw I was dead.
What should I have done?
I'll tell you: I won.
I stood on my two feet instead.
I met with Buckaroo Banzai
Who was strange, but not even high,
Fighting Doctor Lizardo
With pasta con sardo,
Topped off with a blueberry pie.
Society thinks that I'm daft.
They're right, 'cause I live on a raft
In my friend's swimming pool.
He says I'm a fool.
The last time he saw me, he laughed.
It's winter. Your lawn's on vacation
It's getting rest and recreation.
Right now, what it needs
Is lots of good seeds
And someone for dissemination
Poor Yorick has now turned to dust,
But haunts you. He knows that he must!
Ghostbusters can banish
Him, then he will vanish,
And then their fees must be discussed
A ghost who was feeling contrite
Agreed not to haunt every night,
But while we all slept,
To the kitchen he crept,
And ate all our groceries in spite.
High heels can cause problems, you know.
Your back is quite likely to go.
Your feet may fall off.
You'll get a bad cough.
You might even bring on some snow.
A Martian, part insect, part goat
Said, "Please, may I hang up your coat?"
It reached for a noose.
I said, "Leave it loose.
I'll need it for swimming the moat."
A llama who lived in Peru
Wrote notes to his cousin the gnu,
Or sometimes he'd phone
To a yew he had known,
And the voice oft would ask him, "Yew who?"
"There seems to be rice in my pool.
Does someone take me for a fool?"
"We wished to be nice.
We knew you like rice.
In water it grows, as a rule."
The dog often is man's best friend,
So faithful and true to the end.
Your dog you must walk.
As a rule we won't talk,
Though his bark might send you 'round the bend.
Dogs can be very destructive.
They're high-strung, and that's just deductive.
They'll bay at the moon
When they're trying to croon,
But spurn anything that's instructive.
I sit here and watch the dark sky.
Today's record heat made me fry.
Tonight? Cold again.
Oh, I never know when
Normal weather again will be nigh
An orange, once shorn of it's peel,
Proved not enough food for a meal.
A sandwich was eaten,
With eggs that were beaten,
And dollops of pickled ground eel.
Lines 1, 2, and 5 should all rhyme.
The 3rd and 4th take much less time.
The point is, they're short.
(Now, please do not snort.
A good lim'rick is quite sublime)
They say hot cross buns were invented
For people who found themselves Lented.
They gave up fine cakes,
And Porterhouse steaks.
These buns were okay when fermented
I really have nothing to say,
And such was the case yesterday.
As long as I'm rhyming,
And have the right timing
I'll go on like this all the day
Worcester's a snap to pronounce.
Leominster comes with a bounce.
But what of Des Moines?
Quick, gird all your loins!
The pronunciation police pounce!
Many fine traits I possess,
But housekeeping? I am a mess.
I've lost things galore,
And had to buy more.
My mind is lost too, I confess.
Love, war, and death are great themes
For all sorts of writers, it seems.
To write of a pimple
Is not all that simple,
Nor boxes of choc-o-late creams
[You're thinking you'll jump from a bridge?
Well, first you should look in the fridge.
You might find a cake,
And a ragout of hake.
Washed down with a ifne beverage]
Snow and ice are bad enough--
We cope because we're pretty tough--
But then come tornadoes
Which thrash our tomatoes,
And puree the rest of our stuff
Tornados have ravaged L.A.
The Head of the Church says he's gay.
The pacifists fight,
And the toothless men bite.
So, welcome to April Fool's Day!
Taxes and death, love and war,
Realities we can't ignore.
A poor fallen cake,
A minor headache
Are nuisances, but not much more
I won't chortle much when I die.
Much pain will I feel as I lie
In hospital bed,
As dials flash code red,
And weeping kin say a goodbye.
