I’m thirsty, broke, and got holes in my shoes.
I’m thirsty, broke, and got holes in my shoes.
Done smoked my last cigarette…
Oh! This ain’t a limerick!
I should be in Add-A-Verse Blues.*
anything goes,
Tennessee “Hurtin’ Liver” Hippie
*in Cafe Society…but the limerick thing is a tradition in MPSIMS
Gatilinburg’s finest young poster
Will soon find himself in the roaster
For in the wrong forum
He posted a poem
of blues of the kind that’s most moster!
Inspired by the “Famous Poetry In Limerick Form” thread over at the Brunching Shuttlecocks’ board, limericked versions of two seventeenth-century poems, one very well-known, and one not quite so famous…
"To His Coy Mistress" (Andrew Marvell)
If we knew that we’d never get old,
You’d have plenty of time to be cold.
But the grave is no place
For an am’rous embrace –
It gets messy, with all of the mold.
"Ode to Himself" (Ben Jonson)
Since “The New Inn” was not all the rage,
I will say “Bugger off” to the stage.
I’ll endeavour to sing
Splendid praise of my King,
Which will earn me a cushier wage.
Have you got a link for the Brunching boards?
In the meantime, here’s some Shakespeare:
Hamlet’s Soliloquy
To be or, perchance, not to be;
It’s hard to decide it, you see:
To snuff it and end it,
To stay here and mend it,
Or bump off my whole family.
Romeo and Ethel the Pirate King’s…er, I mean Juliet
Oh Romeo, wherefore are thou?
It seems so unfair to me now.
It’s not you I blame,
It’s the fault of your name
That prevents us from taking that vow.
MacBeth
[First Witch]
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, in lightning or rain?
[Second Witch]
It gets rather boring
To meet where it’s pouring.
[Third Witch]
I vote for the south coast of Spain.
John 3:16
God thought his creation was swell,
But folks weren’t behaving real well.
So He crucified Jesus
As if that would please us…
It better, or we go straight to Hell.
Love to All,
TN “Lightning Dodger” Hippie
Keepin’ It In The Family
Though excited, her brother protested
“If we’re caught, we can both be arrested”
But she yanked down his shorts
Said judicial reports
And exclaimed, “I insist” and incested
How about an entire book condensed into a limerick?
Naked Lunch
A rambling, raving discourse
On sodomy, madness, remorse
The plotline is hazy
And may drive you crazy
Just relax by shooting some Horse*
poke me with something,
TN*hippie
*Note to younger readers: “Horse” was once an alleged slang term for heroin, but I never heard a junkie use the word.
There was a young lady named Bright
Whose speed was much faster than light
She left one day
In a relative way
And returned the previous night
Good one, Tranq, but I’d hoped we’d be original on this thread. Not a requirement, but we’ve heard 'em all before.
For instance:
There once was a fellow from Tripoli
Who liked to make love rather nippily.
Complained one young lass
(while rubbing her ass):
“Less teethily, please, and more nippily!”
now let’s hear some originals,
TN*hippie
A trapper called Alex LeVeque
Took his girlfriend up North on a treque.
When he tried to get rigid
The air was so frigid
That all that got stiff was his neque.
A racing car driver named Paul
At last got his girlfriend to ball.
But the moment ecstatic
Was anticlimactic.
When given the green light, he stalled.
There once was a Master called Adams,
Who started a Board for his fandoms.
They call him Unc Cecil;
He never shall cease 'til,
All dumbness is ground down to atoms.
You started a thread full of verse
It’s gone through quite bad, straight to worse
The rhymes are all forced
You should have out-sourced
But instead you have forced me to curse.
The users have jumped in with glee
They love to show off, don’t you see?
You give them a chance
They lim-rick-ally dance
With a sick “published work!” joie-de-vivre.
I won’t give in, not to this mess
I won’t search out rhymes; I won’t stress
Your lyrical plot,
Though well-done and well-thought
To its clutches, I won’t myself press.
I think I’ll just sit here and whine.
Refuse help; I’ll say "I’M JUST FINE!
That verb-happy hippie
Won’t snag ME - damn skippy!
(You all can fill in the last line.)
Tee hee.
You’re saying my rhyming is awful?
With endings that should be unlawful?
I’ll just have you know,
there’s no rhyme so low,
It’s meaning I can never waffle!
galen ubal, it’s clear that you’ve tried
Rebuttal, not sneering or snide -
Your attempt is not bad
And it makes me quite glad
To observe that you’re not yet deep-fried.
(Your brain’s what I mean - don’t you see?
But why should you listen to ME?
I’m a housewife with kids
My poor brain’s on the skids.
I’ve confirmed it - indubitably.)
Hamadryad, I’m playing, you know it.
And I’ll certainly say I’m no poet!
And, regarding your brain,
You’ve proved time and again,
It’s the best, so go 'head and show it!
A poet, you say you are not
It’s clear (from MY perch) that you’ve got
More rhymes in your toes
Than Durante had nose.
And like cornstarch, I’ve thickened the plot!
beat
Or not.
Like two dueling banjos we’re playing.
Our audience, surely, we’re slaying.
Durante had nose,
But only had prose,
not rhyming like we’ve all been saying!
We’ve hijacked this thread to the grave
At least our poor faces we’ll save.
We’ve kept up the scantion
From cottage to mansion
We’re either moronic or brave.
The repartee’s sparkling and witty
From low-brow to high-rise to city
The rhyming requital
Has rocked, and was vital
We should stop before this becomes…
…uhhhh, less-than-entertaining.
Agreed, says the poster named galen;
Too close to the rocks we’ve been sailin’
Let’s wrap this all up,
Clink together our cup,
In toast to the limericks we’re nailin’
bows to Hamadryad
[size=1]How about: “Let’s stop it with this little ditty.”?[size]