Half-Baked Limerick
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
There once was a baker, Lenore…
Here’s mine:
Half-Baked Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
There once was a baker, Lenore,
Who’d been baking three decades or more.
But she quit. When asked why,
She responded, “Hate pie!”
You’d think she’d have noticed before.
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.
Tags: Baking Humor, Food Poem, Job Humor, Pie Verse, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
There once was a baker, Lenore
Who burned everything in the store.
Her embers did glow
With the help of Ed Poe
Who misses her brownies all the more.
There once was a baker, Lenore,
Who developed a gross-looking sore
When lots of infection
Oozed in her confection,
It was “Cupcakes, a dollar for four!”
There once was a baker, Lenore,
Whose cake was seen down on the floor
So was it a flop
Or just not at her top?
No, t’was a stop for the door!
There once was a baker, Lenore,
baked a million or maybe more
of fruit tarts, never burned
’til one day she learned
tart was a synonym for whore.
There once was a baker, Lenore
Whose husband would very loudly snore
She took two different doughs
Stuck them into his nose
And Lenore’s husband, alas, is no more.
There once was a baker, Lenore,
Who sought money to open a store,
While applying for credit,
Her bank said: “Forget it!
And don’t try to beg or implore.”
I enjoyed your limericks. Thanks!
The Baker, Lenore
—————
There once was a baker, Lenore–
Her breads had no taker before.
But she changed to whole wheat
When she ran out of meat
And folks kneaded to make her make more.
There once was a baker, Lenore,
Who sold only baked goods in a store.
Until one sweet day,
She got carried away,
Sold herself, and now she’s a whore.
More baked goodies! Thanks!
There once was a baker, Lenore
The cops found her dead on the floor
Her once tasty bread
Was all full of lead
She won’t bake it in China no more.
There once was a baker, Lenore,
Who never stopped pacing the floor.
She would bake up a storm
And try to keep warm,
But no one would enter her store.
There once was a baker, Lenore,
From her kitchen was heard a loud roar,
Followed soon by a clatter,
Then out the door blew some batter;
Now Lenore and her store are no more,
@Mark L. — Love the literary limerick, Markoolio!
@Edgar Allen Poe — I beg your forgiveness, sir.
In the city, dark and dreary
As I stumbled, drunk and weary,
Over many a shattered soul and shuttered store,
Came a fragrance as from heaven,
Something wondrous that had leaven’d!
Wafting from a humble pastry-seller’s door:
A baker whom the gods had blessed – Lenore!
Ev’ry morn, the worn and jaded
Had their souls and stomachs sated
With ambrosial rolls and donuts by the score
From the oven, unabated,
Pastries poured, and she, as fated,
Stood there smiling gently as they begged for more…
The angel who these wonders wrought: Lenore!
But one day, there came a weeping,
As the city rose from sleeping,
Sweet and yeasty smells came seeping forth no more;
What had shattered their composure?
Just one brutal word: Foreclosure
Writ across now-abandoned bakery door.
The gods of credit had forsaken poor Lenore!
Quoth the banker: Nevermore.
Thanks for the additional limericks! And Steve, your poem is wonderful!
There once was a baker, Lenore.
Baking cookies and pies in her store.
When raisins were scarce,
She filled pies with pears.
Good bakers can make less seem more.