Lately, I’ve been having lots of fun with Big Tent’s poetry prompts. Its latest prompt asks us to write a poem about fruit or to pen some other food-related poetry. My Fruity Limerick is only partially true … and I leave it to you to guess which part.
Fruity Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
There’s exceedingly little dispute
That it’s healthy to eat lots of fruit.
I don’t eat much. My reason?
The very short season
Of fruits I enjoy in a flute.
(I have lots more food humor here.)
Once again, it’s Limerick-Off time. 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.
So I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A sports-loving fellow named Lee…
Here’s mine:
Sporty Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A sports-loving fellow named Lee
Had a very bad elbow and knee,
Which he blamed on a fall
Suffered playing pro ball,
But he only knew sports from TV.
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 Facebook Limerick-Off post.
To receive an email alert whenever I post a new Limerick-Off, please send me an email requesting the alerts. You’ll find my email address on the upper right sidebar, in the “Author” section just below my Limerick-Offs button. Thanks!
Big Tent Poetry prompts us to write poems about feet this week. My pal Amanda’s already composed one. So, why not a limerick?
Feet Trouble Afoot
By Madeleine Begun Kane
I can’t always rely on my feet.
When I dance, they say “Please take a seat!”
Though I stretch ’em and bend ’em,
I can’t seem to mend ’em.
Of foot, I confess, I’m not fleet.
Once again, it’s Limerick-Off time. I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A jittery fellow named Fred…
Here’s mine. (It’s a three-verse limerick, but a standard one-verse limerick is fine, of course.)
Jittery Limerick (Jittery Limerick Audio)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A jittery fellow named Fred
Had problems with sleeping in bed.
He could sleep on a chair
Or a stool — anywhere
But in bed, where things came to a head.
He was haunted in bed by his fears,
Whether sober or after some beers.
He would worry and fret—
Could not snooze on a bet.
And that’s how he lived for ten years.
But then podcasts came into his life.
(He’d heard about them from his wife.)
The discussions and talk
Made sad thoughts take a walk.
Now he slumbers in bed without strife.
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 Facebook Limerick-Off post.
To receive an email alert whenever I post a new Limerick-Off, please send me an email requesting the alerts. You’ll find my email address on the upper right sidebar, right above my photo. Thanks!
Can’t Stomach This Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A fellow was feeling quite queasy,
And he blamed his five eggs over easy.
He complained to the chef,
Who yelled out for a ref,
And now both men are queasy and wheezy.
Rumor has it that fall will arrive on September 23rd. So I thought I’d celebrate with my Limerick Ode To Autumn:
Limerick Ode To Autumn
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Feels like autumn — the walking is easy
Cuz it’s cool and it’s dry and it’s breezy.
But what do I spy?
Flying pollen — oh my!
Any minute I’ll surely be sneezy.
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A guy with his foot in a cast…
Here’s mine:
Lame Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A guy with his foot in a cast
Was driving his car way too fast.
His wheel struck a hole.
He lost all control,
And the time for a cast was surpassed.
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.
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A fellow who drank to excess…
Here’s mine:
Lush Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A fellow who drank to excess
Got to work in a state of undress:
Wore no shirt and no shoes,
Had a briefcase of booze
And, quite tipsy, said “Dress to impress.”
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.
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this first line:
A woman succumbed to a whim…
Here’s mine:
Whimsical Limerick
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A woman succumbed to a whim
And enrolled in an overpriced gym.
She tried free weights, machines,
Even yoga for teens,
Till she ran out of money and vim.
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.
I’m not exactly a sports aficionado. But I’m guessing it’s safe to presume that most games are expected to be noisy.
Apparently, though, South African soccer fans take such noise to a new ear-piercing level, enthusiastically blowing vuvuzelas in the stadiums. What’s a vuvuzela? Well, I know from oboes, but not from vuvuzelas. However, I’ve just learned they’re cacophonous, droning, deafening horns (blown like a brass instrument) that are driving TV World Cup viewers insane.
Vive Vuvuzelas? Please, No! (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Attempting to watch World Cup soccer?
Then you’re likely to go off your rocker:
Vuvuzelas abound
With their loud, droning sound.
They are deafening. Help! Need a blocker!
My versifying friend Gerald Bosacker has been writing a series of Poetic Headstones — safety hints in limerick form, which he refers to as “limerbituaries.” When he challenged me to write one, I just had to give it a try:
If your doc says, “Go under the knife.
Only surgery’s saving your life.”
Kindly check out his rep.
Mel did not, the poor schlepp.
So Mel is now missed by his wife.
From there, I moved on to something a bit more warped — not exactly a safety hint, but a “limerbituary,” nonetheless:
Just why is this poor fellow dead?
Well mainly he’s missing his head.
He dined with a bad man,
A head-chopping madman,
And that’s the last time he was fed.
Thanks for the inspiration, Gerald.
Are you as sick as I am of our twice-yearly clock-adjustment ritual? Do you think, as I do, that we have more than enough daylight and that there’s no need to save any?
I’m sorry, but my internal clock is sufficiently confused and doesn’t need Daylight Savings Time to make my chronic insomnia even worse. And I’m inclined to clock the next person who reminds me to change my damn clocks.
Save Me From Daylight Savings Time (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
My natural clock is a mess.
Just thinking of sleep gives me stress.
Spring forward—fall back
Makes me more out of whack.
So I don’t change my clocks — I just guess.
(More DST humor here.)
I hope you’ll join me in writing a limerick with this as a first line:
A wealthy old fellow named Bart…
Here’s mine:
A Limerick Meal
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A wealthy old fellow named Bart
Began ev’ry meal with a fart.
When guests came to dine
They’d pretend all was fine
Cuz they hoped to inherit his art.
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.
Here we go again: Yet another scientific study says many of us should have ignored a previous study. The latest concerns the dangers of taking daily aspirin to guard against heart attacks and strokes.
Are Health Studies Making Us Sick? (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
Daily asp’rin is good, so they said.
But it seems we were maybe misled.
Though it might prevent strokes,
It may cause many folks
To enjoy bleeding ulcers instead.
Related Post: Margarine Is Good For You. Oops — Never Mind.
I’m so sick of this snowy New York winter. And of all the fretful phone calls from my mother-in-law, warning hubby Mark about snow shoveling and heart attacks. Funny, she isn’t at all concerned about my heart.
That brings me to my latest limerick:
Send Us Spring, STAT!
By Madeleine Begun Kane
I’m achy from head down to toe.
The cause? I’ve been shoveling snow.
I wanted to punt,
But instead, did our front,
While my spouse did the rest — quid pro quo.
********
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the one up side of February which is coming up very soon: Valentines Day. And so happy Valentines day, especially to you fellows who may find this Valentines Day column helpful. Gals, you can thank me later.
I’m short. Five-foot-zero, to be specific. But I never wear heels. Okay, I do have one pair of special-occasion shoes with a one-inch heel. Does that even count?
I forswore high heels way back in my early twenties. Why? Isn’t it obvious? Because they hurt! Besides, even if I braved three-inch heels, I’d still be really short. Plus I’ve never thought teetering was all that sexy.
And that brings me to my latest limerick:
Shoo, Heels!
By Madeleine Begun Kane
I’m short, but wear flats — never heels.
Cuz they hurt. Gals, you know how it feels.
So my word to height seekers:
Just give me some sneakers,
Or flip flops, or better yet — wheels.
Every few years, my husband and I take ballroom dancing classes. We never make much progress, but we do have a good time. Except, of course, for the bruised limbs … and egos.
I’m celebrating our latest lesson attempt with a two-part limerick:
We Don’t Think We Can Dance, But We Do It Anyway
By Madeleine Begun Kane
My husband and I like to dance.
Are we good? Oh no way — not a chance.
I am not being humble
In saying we stumble
And often trip over our pants.
But we’re working on rumba and swing.
Plan a do-over class in the spring.
And to those who might think
That we really do stink,
Just be glad we’re not trying to sing.
UPDATE: Happy International Dance Day! (April 29th)
Just posted on my other blog: a limerick ode to showerhead bacteria.
Empty Nest (Limerick)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
A woman was feeling depressed.
(Her syndrome is called “empty nest.”)
Her home was too calm.
She missed being a mom—
Though her spouse “helped” by being a pest.
Feel free to write your own limerick using the same first line and post it in my comments. And if you’re on Facebook, please join my friends in that same activity in my limerick-offs.
Mad Kane (Madeleine Begun Kane) is a writer, musician, and "recovering lawyer." She won the Robert Benchley Society Award For Humor and enjoys writing limericks, song parodies, and current events haiku.
You can email her at madkane@madkane.com, visit her political humor blog, or stop by her home page.
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