Limerick Nest (Limerick-Off Monday)
NOTE: THIS IS A TWO-WEEK LIMERICK-OFF. LIMERICK SUBMISSION DEADLINE IS SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2014 at 10 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
It’s Limerick-Off time, once again. 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.
The best submission will be crowned Limerick Of The Week. (Here’s last week’s Limerick Of The Week Winner.)
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.)
Please note that due to the Labor Day holiday, this Limerick-Off will run for two weeks, instead of one. So I’ll announce the Limerick of the Week Winner two weeks from today, on SEPTEMBER 7, 2014, right before I post the next Limerick-Off. So that gives you a full two weeks to submit your clever, polished verse. Your submission deadline is Saturday, September 6, 2014 at 10 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
And since you’ll have two weeks, I’m offering you a topical alternative: In addition to your regular challenge, you may write a limerick related to Labor Day or any other September holiday, using any first line. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best holiday-related limerick.
And now, getting back to your regular Limerick-Off challenge, I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A woman discovered a nest…*
or
Our children are back in the nest…*
or
All our kids have at last flown the nest…*
or
A fellow had feathered his nest…*
or
It’s best not to foul your own nest…*
or
There’s a syndrome that’s called “empty nest…”*
*(Please note that minor variations to my first lines are acceptable. However, rhyme words may not be altered, except by using homonyms or homophones.)
Here’s my limerick:
Limerick Nest
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A zoo-keeper feathered his nest.
At theft he was one of the best.
He was cagey and knew
Not to crow to his crew.
Getting caught’s for the birds, he’d assessed.
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 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: Competition Limerick, Crime, Crime & Punishment Humor, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Poetry & Prompts, Writing Prompts
This syndrome that’s called “empty nest.”
Is never, by jailers, expressed
Once cons are paroled
They may leave the fold
But most will come back for arrest
Father claimed to have feathered his nest
And would leave us a handsome bequest.
But he’s now in the ground;
Only feathers were found,
And we sneezed as we laid him to rest.
The fellow was robbing their nest
Of their eggs, and the hens were distressed.
They were out of their wits
So they pecked him to bits –
He’d forgotten his pullet-proof vest.
The wasps had constructed a nest
By our window. I felt very stressed,
But my wife, skilled at tantra,
Just muttered her mantra
For Buddha to clobber the Pest.
The young bird in my pillow-filled nest,
As she sucked on my wotsit, confessed:
“I’m afraid to embark
On this swallowing lark –
It’s no joke when you tell me ‘Ingest!’ ”
The monster’s no longer “Loch Ness’d”,
For pollution has shrunk her. Compressed,
As a tourist attraction
She’s now just a fraction,
The size of a pilchard, at best.
(Christopher said on Facebook that the idea of meeting a dinosaur is rather fanciful. That’s all very well, but …)
I’d discovered the dinosaur’s nest,
But her children all jumped on my chest.
It was meal-time, you see,
And the diners saw me
As a welcome consumable guest.
A woman had feathered her nest
With quality, only the best!
When it came to guys
It was no surprise,
His excellence was what she stressed.
An Englishman’s home is his nest;
From a castle, he’s sadly regressed.
But rampant inflation
Has crippled the nation.
Who did it? The Tories! You’ve guessed!
Deep in the woods I found a nest
Of guns! Scared me, I must confess.
I’m not here to loot!
So he didn’t shoot.
In a perfect case of beau geste.
When Capone had been Eliot Ness’d,
“The Untouchables” ended their quest.
What to do with his booze?
Said their leader, “I’ll choose
The champagne, you can drink all the rest.”
The banker had feathered his nest
With the money that fools would invest.
When he fled to Nevada,
He told them “There’s nada –
Your money and I have gone west.”
A rich guy helped her feather her nest..
Was this love or fulfilling a quest?
The cost was quite dear.
But was this sincere?
And not merely a case of beau geste?
A woman discovered a nest
The hare was an unwelcome guest.
She loved rabbit stew
Which she’d down with a brew.
But the hare was a br’er who soon she’d detest.
A woman discovered a nest
Of birds of succulent breast
She baked a pie crust
And then loudly cussed
When the flock flew up and then messed.
A woman discovered a nest
Of blackbirds who settled to rest.
Four and twenty she’d spy
Said a tasty bird pie
They’d make which she’d quickly ingest.
Roger Thornton fell into a nest
Full of spies who would give him no rest.
When he found himself caught
On Mount Rushmore, he thought:
“A mistake to go North by North-West.”
All our kids have at last flown the nest.
Now my wife and I walk ’round undressed.
It may sound benign,
but it isn’t so fine
when a kid’s an unannounced guest.
All our kids have at last flown the nest.
My wife and I now enjoy rest.
But like Mae West’s old line,
“Come up and see us sometime..
but make it later than sooner”, we jest.
All our kids have at last flown the nest.
But not really, it’s only a test.
They reserve the right
to return any night
that life has them too overstressed.
Randy Mazie at thewritersvillage.wordpress.com
How lovely and empty the nest
The birdies had flown east and west
But now they’ve returned
The B’s that they’ve earned
Left those offering jobs unimpressed.
A woman discovered a nest
Of jokes that were left by a guest
She’d been in arrears
So she changed careers
Now a stand-up comedienne with zest
A pirate climbed in the crow’s nest
To scout for the crew’s next conquest
But the night was too deep
And the scout fell asleep
In the brig he’s now under arrrr-rest
I invited her back to my nest
For Monopoly, purely in jest,
But she jumped at the Chance,
Thrust her hand down my pants,
So I grabbed her Community Chest!
“If you ever should feather your nest,
Choose the feather that weathers the best.
You should only use eider,
Duck down.” I replied her,
“Eider that or what else, you big pest!”
“Since we’ve gained our new empty nest,”
Said Tess, “I’m a demon possessed!
We’ve boinked on the table,
The couch, floor, and Mable
The cat’s tail and more!” she confessed.
You’re finally leaving the nest.
I wish you and yours all the best.
Once you find you a bimbo
With legs spread akimbo,
I’m certain you’ll rise to the test!
It’s hard not to foul your own nest
With boxes and books and the rest.
If there’s something you’ve lost,
There’s an increase in cost.
It’s not simply a search. It’s a quest.
I’ve happened upon a large nest
Of eggs in my brain. As you’ve guessed,
I’m sitting here hatching
These lim’ricks and scratching
My head wondering, “Which is the best?”
Please delete other version after your much deserved time off.
Note from Mad Kane: Done. :)
For first-timers, leaving the nest
Can be quite a daunting, hard test.
It gets better, of course,
Once you’re down on all fours
And your boyfriend gives you his warm best!
This one too, Mad. Thanks!
A smart thermostat called Google’s Nest
Has been touted to be the next best
Thing out since sliced bread,
But it isn’t. Instead,
When hacked, it’s quite bad, as you’ve guessed.
Google’s Nest
The bra is a kind of boob’s nest
The big ones are safe there, but pressed
So I set them free
And they fell on me
And now I feel like I’m blessed.
Practical jokes in the birds love nest
Put their relationship to a stern test
When he pulled out Sue’s chair
She fell quite hard right there
In French Legion is now her beau jest
The triplets got kicked from their nest
Two boys and a girl, dispossessed
They walked, but she faltered
Her huge boobs, un-haltered
The brothers then each walked abreast
Our nestlings have all flown the nest
Each one on his personal quest.
Budapest? Bucharest?
Everest or Key West?
No, they moved to the basement. (I jest.)
They finished with sex in her nest
He put on his shirt and pants, pressed
She then gave him grief,
‘Cause he’d been very brief
He had clothed, but now he was dressed
A woman discovered a nest
which left her highly distressed.
Though just a small bird,
he must not have heard
she hadn’t invited a guest.
Our moocher just flew from the nest
Go on! Go mooch from the rest!
What now! You’ve a bug?
And needing a hug….?
Well, ahem, Mom’s soup IS the best…
Our children are back in the nest.
We thought we’d have time for a rest.
The darlings are frightful,
Sadistic and spiteful.
This must surely be some sort of test.
She was laid in a feather-filled nest,
And she found herself roughly undressed
By a swan – it was Zeus,
Who gave Leda his juice.
Now she needs a paternity test.
The birds are asleep in their nest,
And the sun slowly sinks in the west;
It’s a wonderful life …
Till I’m called by my wife:
“Have you emptied the bins?” What a pest!
You can’t judge a bird by its nest,
So I think observation’s the test.
If it’s chick, goose or duck,
It will quack, honk or cluck.
This whole subject is fowl at best.
There’s a syndrome that’s called “empty nest…”*
Suffered by parents whether from LA or Budapest
When kids take flight
Parents begin to fight
Will their marriage survive this acid test?
Our kids have at last flown the nest
But I’m far from feeling depressed
I’ve a new lease of life
As a submissive wife
His master is more than impressed
On Labor Day, rest from your work.
I said, “That is wrong,” with a smirk.
“Rest from work; Labor Day.
Their two meanings,” I say,
“Are opposite; drive me berserk.”
Repeat parties at Legionnaire’s Nest,
A bar out here in the Midwest,
Feature fellows whose legions
Know Pam’s nether regions
Cause Pam usually nethers each fest!
I once found an old hornet’s nest
I flung it at wifey, in jest
I thought it deserted
Her welts must have hurted
My own stinger now is at rest
Our daughter would soon leave the nest
My wife had been worried and stressed
“I can’t sleep!” she would wail
“Then I’ll take you to jail!”
“The charge: resisting a rest.”
Though the cannibal lived in a nest,
He would boast that he owned an ice-chest.
“That last girl that I ate?
With my new, up-to-date
Little fridge, I’m still keeping abreast.”
The serpent had climbed to the nest
On a sinuous chick-eating quest.
But the eagle swooped down,
And her beak split his crown;
Now her fledglings have much to digest.
@Brian, Edmund, Kiran
I rise from my bed unrefreshed.
In nightmares my brain is enmeshed.
What’s so bad it would keep
Me from comfort and sleep?
MISPRONOUNCING THE CITY OF PEST!!!
(Sorry, but it had to be said! :) )
The chicken, to get to its nest,
Tried crossing the road. You’ll have guessed
That, because it was black,
It was shot in the back
By the cops for “resisting arrest”.
Of the covers, I’ve made me a nest,
And I come out at no-one’s behest.
Robin Williams is dead…
There’s that journalist’s head…
Now there’s Ferguson. Fuck, I’m depressed.
For a certain ex-Gov who’s currently in the news…
Bob McDonnell has feathered his nest
At a wannabe big-shot’s behest.
Now he’s taking the tack
That his wife is a whack.
(Bet his marriage bed’s getting a rest.)
Investors can feather their Neste
By expanding out where they invest.
If they started with Mobil,
They could get more global
And Finnish with one of the best.
Nesteoil
English holidays during September?
If there are some, I now can’t remember.
My holiday rhyme
Must be some other time …
I think there’s a date in December.
Will, you’re correct that that’s how THEY say it, but it’s not how WE say it. When did you last hear anyone say ParEE?
P.S. Good to see you back in action.
Furthermore, Will, Edmund’s rhyme word wasn’t Budapest but Bucharest, so he at least is in the clear.
I’ve jusht been attacked and aggreshed
For the way I pronounsh Budapesht.
But after shome wine
I am almosht in line,
And the whishky takesh care of the resht.
Stand down, Tar and Feather Committee!
I ask for forgiveness, and pity:
After twenty-five years,
It still moves me to tears
To remember my favorite city.
(PS —
Though for whisky the tastebuds rejoice,
I believe a more practical choice
Is a swig — if it’s handy —
Of palinka brandy
To find your Hungarian voice.)
Our chidren are back in the nest,
A contingency we had repressed.
Between that or park benches
Leaves us back in the trenches.
We hope that it’s all for the best.
All our kids have at last flown the nest,
Which leaves us a little bit stressed.
We live on a diet
Of absolute quiet.
Conversqtion had clearly regressed.
All our kids have at last flown the nest.
The negatives leave us distressed.
But with nothing to hide,
On the positive side,
We’re no longer compelled to get dressed.
I must tell you about my Aunt Faye.
She’s had 9 kids with one on the way.
Due to pop any day,
So please think of Faye
As you rest while she’s laboring away!
A woman who’d seen that a nest
Had been built ‘twixt her left and right breast
Cried “Alas and alack!
There are birds on my rack!”
And with zest swept the pests from her chest
To not foul one’s own nest
Is a policy that’s passed the test
But politicians never learn
And the bridges they still burn
If they’re not re-elected, we’ll be blessed
Will, in all seriousness (if this can conceivably be thought of as the right place for such a thing), I’m off to Budapest on Sunday – not, alas, for pleasure, but for reasons connected with the “day job”. I’ve been there twice before, and loved it. I don’t expect to have much time for gallivanting on this occasion, but I hope at least to be able to fit in dinner in an outdoor restaurant overlooking the Beautiful Brownish-Grey Danube.
Another city for Will:
In France, all the women are free;
You just say “You viens avec me?”
But if you are gay
Then you may have to pay –
Why d’you think that it’s called “Gay Paris”?
Ooops! Metrical slip in line 2. Better as:
You just ask them “You viens avec me?”
Now back to the suitcase-packing.
A woman discovered a nest
Where several eggs were at rest
She squatted on top
Without thinking they’d pop
And then left without cleaning the mess
Today I submit the fi-nest
Limer-ick of this week’s poet test.
I ac-cent the wrong places,
Upset homeostasis,
And declare, “Look how far I’ve progressed!”
With prizes, I’ve feathered my nest.
My limericks: always the best
And on weeks when Mad Kane
Thinks they stink, I complain
With verse, ever worse, to protest.
She will say, “Your acCENT’S not hoNEST.
And your rhythm leaves me unimpressed.”
I reply, “Dear Ms. Mad’leine,
It’s intended. My addlin’
Your brain is the goal of my quest.
Edited and improved version:
Today I submit the fi-nest
Limer-ick of this week’s poet test.
I ac-cent the wrong places,
Upset homeostasis,
And de-clare how far I’ve progressed!
Talk Radio’s consummate honor
For a Jewish show, the “Rush Hashana,”
Is porkless baloney
On “wry” with some phony
Illegal drugs or marijuana.
There’s a syndrome, it’s called empty nest
And the victim’s are often a pest
To the kid’s who have flown
To a life of their own –
‘til the day they come “home” for a “rest”.
“I’ve been thinking of leaving the NEST;
Seems I made a wee goof,” I confessed,
“But it’s really not bad
(In a way it’s quite rad);
See that beautiful glow to our west?”
The revered Labor Day Parade-
Alas, feels too old and too staid…
See half naked women dancing
At Carnival, feathered prancing!
Who cares what the workers get paid.
The much esteemed Labor Day Parade!
Its meaning and value got waylaid.
Where’d the politicians go?
To Brooklyn to see the Show:
West Indian Carnival Parade.
I hope the Union movement ain’t dead.
Proud people march for roses and bread.
Labor was the alpha
But now most go to the
Brooklyn Carnival Parade instead.
So important all workers belong.
To get protection that is life-long.
Bonding is the key:
Solidarity!
The Union does, indeed, make us strong
Ah, el Pueblo unido
Jamas sera vencido!
For justice and rights.
We must win the fights!
This is our stand, this credo!
We’d all like to better our nest,
So we labor to further our quest.
We work toward our goals
Slowly killing our souls–
For one day, can’t we give it a rest!
I’ve decided to try at all cost
To get my wife’s story acrossed,
So I often write plays
When she works holidays.
Today’s play’s, “My Love’s Labor Day’s Lost.”
“What’s that syndrome when kids leave the nest,
And your wife will not give you a rest?”
“I’m no specialist, though
From what little I know
Nymphomania seems to fit best.”
I’m here now to bargain for you
So you won’t (and you can’t) yourself do
And all that I ask
For this tiny task
Is your money, your vote, and soul too.
And here’s what you get in return
A lesson that’s not hard to learn
A raise in your wage
Raises dues and your rage
As your check’s less than you used to earn
Whenever the wages get bumped
The price at the register’s jumped
Your money’s worth less.
You’re “better off”, I guess,
But just how as of now has me stumped.
Signed,
Devil’s Advocate
I rarely stray far from the nest,
Perhaps cuz I hate being dressed.
But my wife wears a shirt —
The hot little flirt!
I’ll need to get THAT off her chest.
A broker had feathered his nest.
His condor plays bested the best.
But then came the crash
When he lost all his cash.
His margin calls took all the rest.
A woman discovered the nest
That her husband shared with the rest.
She wired the place,
Posted pix to Face-
Book and Twittered until he confessed.
UNBEFOULING THE NEST?
If the home is considered her ‘nest,’
And the kids have done well and progressed,
When the count drops to two
And her focus is you,
In all likelihood YOU she’ll divest.
Several decades, her feelings repressed,
Caused her female mind to congest.
So we’re done now because
(just believe me) it does
Absolutely no good to protest.
@Kiran mentioned the great ‘acid test’
Of a marriage. More like an Inquest!
“After years of your slop,
We have come to full stop—
I consider you naught but ‘egest.’ ”
My Labor Day off was quite nice.
The fact I got paid should suffice,
But, now looking back,
It throws me off track.
To fix it, we ought repeat twice!
Today, kids would find it quite trite,
After Labor Day, not wearing white.
I’d take any wagers
That all the teenagers
Would say folks and clothes weren’t too bright!
Mad gave us a seven-day stay
A Labor Day verse to assay.
I may sound like a jerk,
But that’s way too much work!
I’ll bear down when they pass Goof-Off Day.
We’d all like to better our nest,
So we labor to further our quest.
We work toward our goals
Slowly killing our souls–
So this Monday please let arseholes rest!
Now what shall I cook in our nest?
A rabbit!, skinned, gutted, and dressed
My wife wants him whole
But halved is my goal
Splitting hares is what I do best
Dear Empty Nest Parents: Good news!
Say goodbye to those college kid blues.
The way things are goin’
Statistics are showin’
When school’s done they’ll come live with youse.
My friend said his son flew the nest
To live in a commune out west
Raising chickens and cattle
Of his bliss he would prattle
A cock and bull story, I guessed
A woman at ease in her nest
Had had triplets and then she confessed,
“I went into shock,
But then I took stock.
It’s a good thing I have a third breast.”
There’s a syndrome they call “Empty Nest.”
Kids move out and the folks get depressed.
But relief is in store
As it seems more and more
They move back when they’re poor — that’s no jest.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun week of limericks. This Limerick-Off is officially over. And the winner is…
Congratulations to the Limerick of the Week Winner, the Holiday Limerick Award Winner, the Facebook Friends’ Choice Award Winner, and the Honorable Mention Winners: Limerick of the Week 179.
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Fleeing Limericks.