Limerick-Off Monday – Rhyme Word: DRINK or DRINKS at the end of any one line (Submission Deadline: July 22, 2023)
It’s Limerick-Off time, once again. And that means I write a limerick, and you write your own, using the same rhyme word. Then you post your limerick(s) as a comment to this post and, if you’re a Facebook user, on Facebook too.
I hope you’ll join me in writing limericks using DRINK or DRINKS at the end of ANY ONE LINE. (A homonym or homophone not listed here may be used in lieu of the designated rhyme word.)
The best submission will be crowned Limerick-Off Award Winner. (Here’s the last contest’s Limerick-Off Award Winner.)
Additionally, you may write themed limericks related to TASTE, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best TASTE-related limerick.
And for a THIRD SEPARATE CHALLENGE, I’ve used a “Random Word Generator” to generate five random words. Your challenge is to use AT LEAST TWO of the Random Words anywhere in your limericks.
Here are the FIVE RANDOM WORDS for this contest: ACE, AFRAID, FUNCTION, JADED, UPSET.
(You’re free to singularize/pluralize the designated random nouns and to change the tense of the designated random verbs. You can even turn adjectives in adverbs and vice versa. And you are NOT required to use any of them as rhyme words, as long as at least two of the words appear somewhere in your limericks.)
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.)
I’ll announce the winners on July 23, 2023 , right before I post the next Limerick-Off. So that gives you FOUR full weeks to submit your clever, polished verse. Your submission deadline is Saturday, July 22, 2023 at 4:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my DRINK/DRINKS-Rhyme Limerick:
A nurse who appears on the brink
Of a breakdown stopped seeing her shrink.
“He’s been making me worse,”
She asserts with a curse.
“Plus he claims that I drove him to drink.”
And here’s my TASTE-Themed Limerick:
A gal with a poor sense of style
Hadn’t bought any clothes in a while.
So she purchased a dress,
A bright red, tasteless mess,
Way too ugly and gross to defile.
And here is my RANDOM WORD GENERATOR Limerick:
I’m afraid that I’m being replaced
Based on nothing important; I’ve aced
All my functions and more,
Yet they’ve shown me the door.
Their grievance? They claim I eat paste.
Please feel free to enter my Limerick-Off by posting your limerick(s) 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: Alcohol Humor, Competition Limerick, Drinking Limerick, Fashion Humor, Job Humor, Job Loss Humor, Limerick Challenge, Limerick Contest, Mental Health Humor, Nurse Humor, Poetry & Prompts, Shrinks, Taste Humor, Workplace Humor, Writing Prompts
This “Requiem” setting just stinks.
What would help is a couple of drinks!
To get through “Lacrymosa”
I’ll need a mimosa.
Who cares what the audience thinks?
Taste (not rhyme word)
Rhyme word: drink or drinks
We no longer see Joe with a drink
And tho it seems odd, we all think
His wife’s going nuts!
That’s what scuttlebutt’s
Saying: she’s begun talks with a shrink
Taste:
If you’re born with good taste, you don’t lose it
Still and all it’s not hard to abuse it!
Make a mess with salades
Or combine prints with plaids—
(So make sure that you tastefully use it!)
Bindy Bitterman
Chicago
I listen when doctors all say,
That eight glasses of water a day
Is what we should drink.
I’ll do it, I think.
But I do have to wonder. Do they?
I was hovering over the brink:
Should I have yet another stiff drink?
I’d already had six,
And they might not all mix …
What decided me? Hearing “clink, clink”.
In Iran I once ordered a drink,
And the barman said, “All bears are pink?”
I said, “Don’t get arsey
I’m speaking in Farsi.”
And the Persian said, “That’s what YOU think!”
There was a young lady called May
Whose brain lost its function one day.
It was due to drink
– but not how you’d think,
She was hit by a large brewer’s dray.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s a waste,
But it’s got such a horrible taste.”
So she spat it all out,
Leaving me in no doubt
That she couldn’t stand anchovy paste.
My new coat will never be mink.
My social life’s missing a link.
My relationships fail,
I don’t get any mail,
And the world is a mess. So I drink.
Poor Donald’s upset; people spurn him.
“It’s a witch-hunt”, he whines, “by those vermin!
They’re afraid I might win!”
But his argument’s thin –
Since the hunt FOUND a witch, they should burn him.
Gram and Gramps went to parties that weren’t
serving tea. They preferred to get turnt.*
And that neither would think
to stop at one drink,
Proves you’re never too old to have learnt.
(*Don’t blame me. Blame that insidious NYT mini crossword.)
Omar Khayyam could not write limericks. So, I helped him on this one.
Omar did have good taste, I avow,
Sitting under a willow’s big bough
Reading verse truly fine
With a jug of red wine
And a loaf of fresh bread and, yes, thou.
Here’s what he wrote:
“A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
O, Wilderness were Paradise enow!”
All five randoms
I’m too jaded to still get upset
When I have “senior moments”. But yet,
Do you think I’m afraid
I won’t ace getting laid
By not functioning deftly? You bet!
“And this is what happened at the Blackjack table…..”
When the croupier turned up an ace,
My butt was sure in the wrong place.
So afraid I’d descend,
Cuz the girl at the end
Had that, “I cannot count” kinda’ face.
We have always avoided food waste
And have tried not to discard in haste.
My re-worked hash browns
At first, raised some frowns,
Now they all crave that special new taste.
As a nice Jewish gal with a mink,
My life style I had to rethink.
Cuz the day it was warm,
We endured a wasp swarm.
And they buzzed, “Want a drink? Want a drink?”
(Triple)
My appetite seems to be jaded;
My taste for fine claret has faded.
I’m afraid I now drink
Mostly plonk, but I think
That the quantity has been upgraded.
There once was a game where all drink
whene’er Russia’s standing would sink.
And then came the coup
when they added shots too
until they all puked in the sink.
Some people, soon after one drink,
Make you wonder how low they can sink.
They’re so stupid and dumb
And appear to become
Evolution’ry scale’s missing link.
If “drank” is the past tense of “drink”
And “sank” is the past tense of “sink,”
Why did people turn red
When I recently said
“I wank” when describing a wink?
“There’s one on every damn street”
I’m upset, cuz I feel very jaded.
With this joint, I’m no longer elated.
Frappuccino, Green Tea
Mocha drinks make me pee.
Goodbye Starbuck’s you’re so overrated.
Although it was what he desired,
I was steadfastly so uninspired.
He said, “Darling, like lox
Which at first always shocks,
Its taste is considered “acquired.”
I erred without any compunction.
I’m upset cuz I failed the injunction.
Yes, I did commit libel
As I misplaced my Bible.
And forgot about “Unction To Function”
The new neighbours have several kinks,
Getting vocal each night in high jinks.
Their mouths were agape
When I played the sex-tape.
We’ve not been invited for drinks …
As down to the bottom we’ve raced,
With history wholly disgraced,
I fear we may choke
On what’s left after woke.
No longer, this world to my taste
There one was a man from Helsink
Who’s pecker would recoil and shrink
He had a good plan
To work it by hand
And top it off with a stiff drink
Jack Smith is just one of those mokes,
Whose indictment of me is a hoax.
To that we should drink.
So, what do you think?
Let’s party and send out for cokes.*
*Donald Trump actually made this suggestion about cokes, during his taped confession.
Let me tell you ’bout rough “hubby” Steve.
He gets hives like you cannot believe!
I’m afraid, so you see
In my blouse is a bee.
If he’s cruel, it’s the ace up my sleeve.
Assisted living at Lives Well-Lived: “The Coup de Grace”
The ladies at “Lives” lose control.
They can’t find even one kindred soul.
The Grays and the Whites
Are upset, (many fights)
My hair’s purple, the “ace in the hole”
Uncle Walt passes out when he drinks.
He insists he just needs forty winks.
But I’m nobody’s fool
Look! He’s slipped off the stool.
He’s got a real problem, methinks.
Connoisseurs of fine foods (like flambe)
And fine wines (like, say, Pouilly-Fuisee)
Are convinced it’s debased
And in very bad taste
To hang out at Old Country Buffet.
It seems grandma is getting more jaded.
Last night, when she watched an X-rated
Film she did not get
Even mildly upset
(Though the golden showr’s scenes she evaded.)
I feel a little jaded
Though your beauty hasn’t faded
The finest features cease to amaze
At the blank wall I begin to gaze
This romance needs to be upgraded
He offers me a drink
I won’t give hm a blink
Who does he think I am?
Would I even tell him my name?
Only if he wraps me in mink
I think you’re very base
For getting on my case
About not achieving
What you’ve got by thieving
I’m a subject you’ll never ace
I’m becoming increasingly stout,
So my doc has a diet to tout.
“It’s so simple and neat
To decide what to eat:
If you find it tastes good, spit it out.”
Afraid she might never get “clean,”
Ginny checked out her town’s AA scene.
“I’ll upset my addiction,”
She thought with conviction.
“I’ll get high ev’ry day on caffeine!”
Mama’s “batter-chip” cookies demand
A guinea pig who can withstand
Something soft and real gooey
And also quite chewy
Which tastes just like Play-Doh with sand.
The neighbours all love to assess
How proper your grief and distress
But forget what they think
And have a good drink,
They’re not there for you to impress.
—
I’m fond of a red, I confess,
Favouring some more rather than less.
And I do love the chink
Of a celebratory drink
Knowing nothing exceeds like excess.
Flashing classified doc’s at a function
He bragged with no sign of compunction.
Though his MO is jaded,
His ego’s not faded
As he shrugs off one more court injunction.
“Charlie” Married 60 Years
I’m so jaded; I won’t sleep tonight.
So afraid that we’ll have one more fight.
I best surf the Net.
Look around till I get
To the “Been There And Done It” web site.
One word makes a difference. Line 5 (sorry)
“Charlie” Married For 60 Years
I’m so jaded; I won’t sleep tonight.
So afraid that we’ll have one more fight.
I best surf the Net.
Look around, till I get
To “The Been There And Done That Crap” site.
Of course I can kite sail, he thinks
Showing off to his girl with a wink
But the sail slaps his face
He slips in disgrace
He and said ego end up in the drink
I’m the manager of an ice-rink
And there’s one thing that causes a stink
When a bibulous fellow
Makes long lines of yellow
Thanks to strong diuretics – and drink.
Doc Jones said, “Too bad you’re a smoker.
Your heart functions look mediocre
Ace inhibitors work”
Then he said with a smirk,
“They might hurt your chances in poker.”
“Never Goes Bad”
The name of this yogurt’s “Four Score”
They’re so tasty, we always want more.
Great Great Great Grandma Faye
Went and bought them the day
The North won the great Civil War
Music On Hold, also know as MOH:
I CAN’T TAKE IT !!
That music “on hold” never fades.
My delicate brain it invades.
I’m extremely upset
Cuz all that I get
Is Motorhead’s damn “Ace Of Spades”
She’s tapped out by the e-stock she’s traded,
And turned off when her i-phone’s upgraded.
So world-weary is she,
It’s upsetting to see.
Only six, and already she’s jaded.
Not Another One !
Fam’ly functions, I wish I could skip.
I’m so jaded, still can’t get a grip.
At each party, Joe Meyers
Forever inquires,
“Have you tried that sensational dip?”
Because of my brilliant mentality,
I “aced” the exam on Morality.
Behind my long nails
Were the hidden details.
Gel extensions have great functionality.
Line 5, change
Because of my brilliant mentality,
I aced the exam on Morality.
Behind my long nails
Were the hidden details.
Gel extensions have dual functionality.
I keep track of the girth of my waist —
All indulgences tallied and traced.
But a lick or a sip?
I let those numbers slip,
Since there is no accounting for taste.
When I first tasted wine, late last week,
I drank ‘til I just couldn’t speak.
Wine’s a magical drink
Whether red, white or pink –
It turns yellow when you take a leak.
I invited her up for a drink
And to show her my etchings (wink wink).
But she turned out to be
Not a she but a he —
And from such situations I shrink.
Consider the phrase: “Food and drink.”
We just use it and don’t really think.
We don’t say: “Drink and food.”
Why not? It’s not rude.
I suppose it’s a linguistic kink.
She breathed in his ear “play the ace”
He complied; afraid he’d lose face.
But the naive dumb bunny
Lost face AND his money.
So how did it end? Watch this space!
She conned all the guys for a drink
Parading in diamonds and mink.
But beneath all the fur
Was a He, – not a Her.
What followed, I shudder to think.
“I’m so jaded; I think I’ll explode.
I’ve had enough pie a la mode.
My limit’s been set.
Clearly, I’m not upset.
Excuse me, is that Rocky Road?”
correction of above limerick: (It’s “met” not “set”)
“I’m so jaded; I think I’ll explode.
I’ve had enough pie a la mode.
My limit’s been met.
Clearly, I’m not upset.
Excuse me, is that Rocky Road?”
He worked as a cook and he toiled
For a queen who liked eggs only boiled.
When she tasted one fried,
She burst out and cried.
So he knew that the royal was roiled.
“I’m so bored. It upsets me,” said Jade.
“Sex no longer excites, I’m afraid.”
But she then met Big Ace,
With his body and face.
Her concerns are now fully allayed.
Surprise, Surprise!
Hot for Sue, Bob invites her for drinks.
When she comes, kids in tow, his heart sinks.
“Bob, my sitter is sick.
I brought Kool-Aid—kids’ pick,
lemon-lime, for us all.” He just blinks.
Groove Time for Daring Dan
Time to dance! Dan got dressed with great haste,
very confident in his good taste;
but his red-striped knee socks,
with his bright purple Crocs
and a green Speedo left him disgraced!
I’ve been losing my keen sense of taste.
I now think that all caviar’s a waste.
Though this hasn’t been voiced;
All those sturgeons rejoiced,
And they’re spawning in ways most unchaste.
I adore eating strong bloater paste,
Even though it goes straight to my waist.
My slim wife thinks, alas,
That it smells like my ass –
There is JUST NO accounting for taste.
Taste: “Something (almost) Every Husband Has Heard”
For years, I’ve been married to Matt.
And this is our most frequent spat:
“Goodbye, Beth. Seen ya’ soon.
Prob’ly late afternoon”
“Goodbye Matt. Are you going like THAT?”
“Taste”
Mama’s cooking is surely no treat.
The food that she serves smells like feet.
Her alphabet soup
Tastes like real sticky goop.
And it spells out, “I’m not fit to eat.”
When I go to the bar, I must think.
And heed the advice from my shrink:
“Although it is fun,
Drink responsively, son.”
He’d be proud that I don’t spill the drink.
That smoke was so thick, I recall,
I could taste it; and so, above all,
We must bring to order
Our Canadian border
By building a smoke-blocking wall.
There once was an unhappy rhino
Who was, I’m afraid, quite a wino.
How, you might think,
Could he turn to drink?
To which, I respond, hell if I know!
There are so many tasty things pink:
Shrimp with a rosé to drink,
Cotton candy and salmon,
A rare steak, a ham and
What have I left out you think?
At a lake, standing right at the brink,
An elephant raised a big stink:
“That damn swimming bunny
Is not a bit funny!
I hate when there’s hare in my drink!”
Madeleine got quite upset
At the limericks she had to vet.
“I’m jaded, dismayed,”
She said, “And afraid
That these are as good as they get.”
A positron, feeling displaced,
Felt that his life was a waste.
His mom said, “I trust
You’ll find love, it’s just
A small antimatter of taste.”
So lovely, I thought I would die.
The girl dressed in red caught my eye.
First afraid of a ruse,
Lo, the cards held good news.
Ace of hearts was decidedly high.
There is a young fellow called Lime,
Who’s so fat it’s really a crime.
Because his taste buds
Are failures and duds
He goes for the cakes every time.
I’d rather be living in space
Than America, what a disgrace!
I’m always upset
Cuz I’ll never forget
When unskillful Donald Trumped Mr. Ace.
At a bar, when a gentleman winks,
At a lady he thinks is a minx,
And she won’t do his bidding,
Then it means he was kidding,
When he offered to pay for her drinks.
WOW! Did I make a big meter mistake!
I’d rather be living in space
Than America; what a disgrace!
I’m always upset
Cuz I’ll never forget
When inept Donald Trumped Mr. Ace.
After having too much to drink
He would smile at the ladies and wink
He thought himself charming
But, they found him alarming
And said “please get lost you fink”.
The Great Depression
Those days, Gramps will never forget.
So afraid he would run into debt.
Though he did gain some pride.
Till that real bumpy ride.
When his apple cart got real upset.
All the flies ’round my house are in sync.
They’ve developed the knack of groupthink.
When I give one a whack,
Then a mate circles back,
And arranges to die in my drink.
BURP
I’m so jaded; I’ll no longer get
Those damn onion rings, so I won’t fret
Bout’ being real bloated.
I want grub that’s uncoated.
And does not make my tummy upset.
The Three Little Pigs
“Grunt, we’re not upset cuz we made
Up our minds, and no one can persuade
Us “right means you’re wrong.”
Here’s our random-like song:
“Of The Big Bad Wolf We’re Not Afraid”
I have an old aunt named Nanette.
I’ve never seen her get upset.
Although, I’m afraid,
Last time she was weighed
Is the closest that I’ve seen her get.
She’s a woman of excellent taste;
Her blind date was a boor and a waste.
After many a whiskey
He tried to get frisky —
And got himself thoroughly maced.
“Mum and Dad have a problem with drink,”
Daddy tells me – again! – with a wink.
“It’s that time of the year
When your daddy drinks beer.
Will more babies appear, do you think?”
At this time, every year, Dad will drink.
Nine months later, my Mum’s on the brink,
And I’ll have a new bro’,
Or a sister, and so
I’m convinced that there must be a link.
I was young. I was still in the pink.
My future looked rosy, you’d think.
But since youth does not last,
And those bright years have passed;
I dispel each dark thought with a drink.
Oh Gertrude, refrain from those drinks.
That wine has been poisoned, methinks.
It is meant for your son.
Forsooth, Hamlet’s the one,
Who said Denmark is rotten and stinks.
So upset when the wine wasn’t pink,
I decided to send back my drink.
The bartender, jaded,
His patience long-faded,
Said, “Feel free to make use of our sink.”
While agrarian life has its charm,
Some country folk cause great alarm:
Those farmhands who think
They can drive while they drink
And not make someone else buy the farm.
It was not the first time she’d been laid,
But afraid she would not make the grade,
She felt upset and jaded
With a sex-life that’s faded,
But at least she was still getting paid.
If the party life’s starting to pall
Just remember this small tip, y’all
Whenever you think
About having a drink
You don’t need fun to have alcohol
“I have full human function,” said she,
A hot android. I answered with glee:
“I’m so ready! Let’s boff!”
Then her noggin popped off.
I’m afraid getting head’s not for me.
So dejected, I told Doctor Shrink,
“I’ve got writer’s block; what do you think?”
He said, “Put it to use.
It’s the greatest excuse
For chillin’ and havin’ a drink.”
“We All Have A Skill”
At “talking the talk” Boy! I stink.
Yet when walking, my legs are in sync.
Hence, I never should talk
While I’m “walking the walk”
Though I’ll walk while I’m drinking the drink”
“A Little Girl’s Curiosity” (vodka?)
When Mommy had cookies, she’d dunk
Them in water, and that gave her spunk.
Then, after that drink,
She was sure in the pink.
And explained to me, “That’s cause I’m drunk.”
When she met Billy Bob for a drink,
She wore furs made from foxes and mink.
When he saw all that fur,
He would compliment her,
“Well at least them dead critters don’t stink.”
I’m afraid I’ve begun to malfunction,
Since no longer do I feel compunction,
When I skip “Meet The Press,”
And replace PBS
With old reruns of “Petticoat Junction.”
I enjoy my cool job as a clerk.
From my duties I never will shirk.
No one knows that I drink.
My dumb colleagues all think
That I’m actually sober at work.
Her husband can’t handle his drink.
Though he’s driving her nerves to the brink,
He’ll comply with her wishes
And first remove dishes
Whenever he pees in the sink.
The bartender threw a drink
At the guy who stole her chain-link
So, he ran to the door
Because he didn’t want more
Then turned and gave her a wink
An Interview With Veteran Officer Two-Fer
“It upset me to see countless cases.
I’m so jaded; I still see their faces.
They’ve had too much to drink.
And slowly they sink
To the bottom of bleak random places.”
Does she love me? The question is moot.
I confess that I don’t give a hoot.
It’s not to my taste
That a woman is chaste
And wears men’s pajamas to boot.
My searching for rhymes, I now think,
Is driving me slowly to drink.
Now isn’t it silly
Ending lines, willy-nilly,
With names like e.g. Humperdinck?
Having taken the pledge, you might think
That I’m no longer tempted to drink.
It’s not so. I still crave,
And I will to the grave,
And I’ve more cause than most – I’m a shrink.
As an aesthete my tastes are refined,
And by beauty alone are defined.
If it ain’t exquisite – (French pronunciation)
You will think me effete –
Then it should not exist, to my mind.
I offer this as a ‘Bad’ taste themed limerick:
At this time, Daddy drinks – every year.
Nine months later, new babies appear.
“You’re called Super Bowl One,”
Daddy tells me in fun,
“And your sister is called souvenir.”
Moderation, the experts profess,
Is the ultimate key to success
In food and in drink
And also, I think,
A moderate deal of excess.
Okay. I’ll give it a go. My first attempt.
—
Any one line ending with ‘drink’ + two randoms:
Of water afraid, Jim didn’t drink.
In Summer his face turned all pink.
There was no escape,
To steam he would take,
Upset ’bout what people should think.
—
Related to taste + two randoms:
When Jenny felt awfully jaded,
Ideas of escape soon cascaded.
Upset she soon faced
How they all lacked taste.
She ran out of steam and was aided.
(Taste)
Adding leftover wine is just fine
To make recipes more fit to dine.
And its praises I’d sing,
But there is no such thing
(In our house) as leftover wine.
“Guilty As Charged” (taste)
I watch ev’rything sonny boy eats.
To make sure that he doesn’t have sweets.
Yet he seems a bit fatter.
I think that the matter
Is known as “The Grandma’s House Treats.”
I hope that my blind date won’t see
My dysfunction. I’m praying that she
Will not be upset
And feel glad that we met.
I mean really, how hard can that be?
TASTE CATEGORY:
The wife of a man in Malacca,
said “What d’ya put in this moussaka?
could it be lamb
or possibly ham?”
he said “No it’s Yvette our alpaca!”
A sequel (sort of) to my limerick of June 26:
I just spent some time in the clink.
(I’d be smarter than that, you would think.)
I attempted to drive
After scotch number five.
Seems that “drunk” is the future of “drink.”
Last week I tried Scotch Bonnet paste;
Good grief it’s one helluva taste.
It burnt all my mouth
Most organs due south
And the place through which I expel waste.
Morning: Housework and laundry, – I’m winning,
With glass in hand (decadent sinning?)
Almost half-nine (I think)
And I’m on my third drink,
With my head and the dryer both spinning.
His wife wandered in from her rest;
Saw his hand down the party girl’s vest.
He said “Not what you think,
I bumped into her drink,
And my hand’s on an olive-search quest.”
A pitcher, who once was an Ace,
Has now, as is often the case,
Lost many a game;
And I fear for his fame.
I’m afraid that he’s also lost face.
Life goes by in the blink of an eye.
So there’s something he thinks he will try.
Each time he should blink,
He’ll instead take a drink.
Then surely he never will die.
“Tete De Veau” (a fine delicacy which can be eaten hot or cold)
My friend, who’s an expert maintains,
“There’s nothing more tasty than grains.”
Though she’s sure “in the know”
I prefer Tete De Veau.
Cause what is more yummy than brains?
Correction Of Explanation Of “Tete De Veau”
Tete De Veau is a calf’s head. It is a fine delicacy, which can be eaten hot or cold.
My friend, who’s an “expert” maintains,
“There’s nothing as tasty as grains.”
Though she’s sure “in the know”
I prefer Tete De Veau
Cuz what is more yummy than brains?
Into a tavern where lights are so dim,
A beautiful woman came with legs slim;
She asked for a pint of beer,
The barmen gave her a sneer;
And said :Oh; but that’s the ferment of whim.
Attention All Limerick-Off Procrastinators: The current Limerick-Off ends this Saturday, at 4 pm (Eastern time.) So please get your limerick stragglers in.
Milk’s, no contest, my favorite drink,
Which means I’m a babe, small & pink,
Swathed by Mom—or instead,
I’m who feels her in bed,
& speak of her “milk jugs”, wink wink.
Shall I gorge, & enjoy what tastes good,
Or should I, with temp’rance, have good
Taste? Well, this verse is doggerel,
So I’ll feast like a mongrel—
Scarf scraps, treats, & all a mouth could.
“Play ace of hearts, diamonds next turn”;
I played hearts so, but now I learn
I can’t be afraid
Of playing my spade,
My club: “win what’s soft with what’s stern”.
Though the length of their backer’s list shrinks,
The abortion ban mob never blinks
As the worst of their sins
Is they think life begins
Right after dinner and drinks.
I avow without any compunction,
That a wedding’s a wonderful function.
In my own jaded view
It’s the best way that you
Can accept all that carnal conjunction.
Rocks hit glass – Love that sound! – with a plink.
Time to give myself over to drink.
Never mind that I’ll pay
On that ‘day after’ day,
When it’s agony even to blink.
A murder of crows out in force,
Went to dine on the corpse of a horse.
The smell, not forgotten,
Was putrid and rotten
But they still got stuck in, with no sauce.
Thanks so much everyone for another fun Limerick-Off, which is officially over. And the winner is…
Limerick-Off Award 511. Congratulations to the winners!
But you can still have lots of limerick fun because a new Limerick-Off has just begun: Limerick-Off Suede-Swayed.
The Collage Gradurate ~
Sometimes I’ll lick excess paste
off collages to waste not the taste,
but I’ll sniff it first, too,
to avoid Super Glue!
You’ll get stuck there by licking in haste!