For the record, I hate eating fish and I’ve never gone fishing. (But I had a fun time with the prompt word “catch.”)
We were s’posed to go fishing, but natch,
It’s too stormy again; we must scratch
All our catch-eating plans.
Guess I’ll open two cans
Of smoked trout. Why’s there always a catch?
My short height makes it hard to withstand
Heavy wind gusts. I’d rather not land
On the sidewalk face down.
Broken bones make me frown…
And I DON’T want more body parts scanned.
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 TACK or ATTACK 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 ANNOYANCES, using any rhyme word. And of course I’ll present an extra award — one for the best ANNOYANCE-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:
FALL, FREAKY, GLAMOROUS, LONGER, POINTLESS.
(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 use any other variant of the random words. 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 May 5, 2024, 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, May 4, 2024 at 4:00 p.m. (Eastern Time.)
Here’s my TACK or ATTACK-Rhyme Limerick:
In the summer, mosquitoes attack.
(Seems my blood, alas, makes a good snack.)
They hang out in our yard,
Hungry, always on guard
For their “meal” to take one step out back.
And here’s my ANNOYANCE-Themed Limerick:
My enjoyment of scat singing’s scant.
I’m averse to Gregorian Chant.
Bagpipe bands drive me mad!
Vuvuzelas are BAD!
This concludes my unmusical rant.
And here is my RANDOM WORD GENERATOR Limerick:
An ambitious young woman named Kyle
Found her trend-setting efforts a trial.
One fall evening, she freaked
When this fashion news leaked:
Her new gown was no longer in style.
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!
An athlete ran nude down the street
And was caught by the cops — no mean feat.
He explained (all erect)
“‘Twas a test to detect
If detectives on foot can be fleet.”
Said a worker, “My life’s out of whack:
I mow lawns on a large cul-de-sac.
How I hate dead-end jobs!
My employers are snobs.
They own mansions; I live in a shack!”
Canadian smoke has returned;
Acrid remnants of forests that burned
Nowhere near New York City
Have turned our air gritty.
That stroll I attempted? Adjourned!
I was birding alone in a park,
When it suddenly got rather dark;
Though the forecast was “clear,”
Rain and hail were now here.
This was NOT my idea of a lark.
(Happy “Bird Day” — May 4.)
Last weekend, we took a short stroll
To a mini-golf range — a fun goal,
Though I CAN’T aim at all;
Ended up with no ball,
Its location, alas, a black hole.
An adventurous person? Hee-hee!
I’m a bit of a coward, you see.
So to physical risks,
I say “No!” All my discs
And my bones seem essential to me.
When I encounter a new-to-me word, I often challenge myself to use it in a limerick. Today’s ancient and obscure, but (lucky for me) rhymable word is “cramble.” (As a noun, it refers to broken tree branches thrown to the ground and usable for craft or firewood.)
Through the forest, my husband would ramble
In his quest for good fireplace cramble.
Soon a fire would blaze,
And before it we’d gaze,
As he bandaged his wounds from the bramble.
A fellow who frequently jogs
Tripped over some badly placed logs.
He fell down, hit his noggin,
Which ended his joggin’.
His new hobby is verse about “frogs.”
Wherever I go (or I’ve been)
Bugs attack me, ignoring my kin.
I scratch and I itch
And I can’t help but bitch…
Cuz mosquitoes get under my skin!
Update: August 20 is World Mosquito Day.
Get up early for fishing? I’ll yawn
From the thought of awak’ning by dawn.
At the end of the day,
My choice is “No Way!”
I like rising when sunlight’s all gawn.
Although her great-uncle was old,
He still loved to play sports; he was bold
And he gave it his all
When he lunged for a ball.
He’d but ONE worry: Catching a cold!
A marathon runner named Ace
Loved to brag about every damn race.
His long-winded tales
Would induce plaintive wails:
“Stop meandering. Cut to the chase!”
If only I were making this story up: Headline: “Giant spiders expected to drop from sky across the East Coast this spring”
“Giant spiders,” East Coast-bound, this spring;
Using parachute-webs, down they’ll swing.
“Invasive,” yet “harmless?”
I’m far from alarmless
O’er spider hordes — beasts on the wing.
A Nor’easter is headed here soon.
With snow we are set to be strewn;
Twelve inches expected!
I’m feeling dejected,
As forecasters breathlessly swoon.
Though I’m no fan of golf, I couldn’t resist writing a Golf Lovers Day limerick:
As a golfer swigged beer in a pub,
He bitched and he gobbled his grub:
“I’ve been flubbing my putts.
Being drubbed drives me nuts!”
The response to that putz? “Join the club!”
A man in the mood for a swim,
Who would frequently act on a whim,
Dove into a pool
From a tree; hurt his tool…
Vowed to stop going out on a limb.
“I warned you: That lotion’s been banned,
And your skin is too pale to get tanned.
No beach, I beseech you!
But words never reach you.
You bury your head in the sand.”
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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