I thought today we might start the month of June with a collection of limericks. This is what can be called a double dose because these limericks were written about limericks. I know it sounds confusing, but you’ll get the gist once you start reading. Enjoy . . .
The limerick packs laughs anatomical
Into space that is quite economical.
But the good ones I’ve seen
So seldom are clean,
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.
😷😷😷
If you find for your verse there’s no call,
And you can’t afford paper at all,
For the poet, true born,
However forlorn,
There’s always the lavatory wall.
😉😉😉
The limericks callous and crude,
It’s morals distressingly lewd.
It’s not worth the reading
By persons of breeding,
It’s designed for us vulgar and rude.
🥴🥴🥴
Oh limericks, Dr. Jekyll’s oblivious,
Till his alter ego is delirious.
Then it can’t be denied
Such rhymes by Mr. Hyde
Will be lecherous, lewd and lascivious.
🤪🤪🤪
That’s it for today. Keep checking in on a daily basis because I’m planning a full week of limericks that will definitely not be acceptable to the younger generation. Let’s call it “Questionable Limerick Week”. I’m compiling the list of limericks as we speak.
After requesting limericks from readers yesterday I really didn’t expect too much of a response. Much to my surprise at 1:15 am I received the following limerick from an anonymous reader. The email was a one liner, “Here’s my favorite feminist limerick.” And here it is just as received:
There was young lady of Wheeling
Who professed a lack of sexual feeling.
But a cynic named Boris
Just touched her clitoris,
And she had to be scraped off the ceiling.
I love anything that makes me laugh out loud and this limerick did. I’m not sure who exactly emailed it, but it has a definite female feel. What do you think?
And to end this post on a fun note, a happy yet stupid newspaper headline.
I’ve rounded up a few more limericks written exclusively by the youngest generation. I’m constantly amazed just how well they construct their limericks. When I was their age, I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to match their skills. Enjoy . . .
Belinda Kellett – Age 8
There was a young lad he named Tony
Who ate plates of fried macaroni.
He got very fat,
But he didn’t mind that,
‘Cos, he bounced when he sat on his pony.
☘☘☘
Audrey Freeland – Age 12
There was a young fellow called Fred
Had an elephant sit on his head.
Where the elephant sat,
Fred’s head grew quite flat,
But Fred didn’t care, he was dead!
☘☘☘
Christine Tailby – Age 7
There was a young lady of Leeds
Who was constantly doing good deeds.
As she bit her young brother,
She said to her mother
“I’ll bind up the wound if it bleeds!”
☘☘☘
Ron Rubin (Unk Age)
As he shrugged and made room on her tuffet,
He whooped: “You’re my lunch, dear Ms. Muffet!”.
Then the monstrous tarantula
Began to dismantle her,
And that’s how Ms. M came to snuff it.
😃😂😁😀😉🙂😛
If any of you happen to have a favorite limerick, email it to me at (everyuselessthing2@yahoo.com) and I’ll post it. Better yet, if you write your own just sent it along and get credit for your work. Don’t be shy, everything here is done just for the fun of it.
I was awakened at 2:30 this morning by one of those annoying Mother Nature calls. I visited her briefly and upon returning to my bed, tried to fall back asleep. During those few minutes of half-sleep some of the words of the following limerick popped into my head. I made a quick note in my cell phone and went to sleep. This morning a did a little editing and the finished limerick was born. I have absolutely no idea where or why it came to me but here it is. This is for all of you limerick and nursery rhyme aficionados.
❤JACK & JILL❤
Jack and Jill climbed up a hill on Nantucket.
He brought a few condoms and she an old bucket.
The bucket was tossed, and Jill’s virginity was lost,
Now that Mother’s Day has come and gone, let’s look into something a bit more musical. Everyone seems to love music of one sort or another, so why don’t we all try to enjoy some music related limericks.
Poetry is an enigma to me. I wouldn’t know good poetry if my life depended on it and even the bad poetry that I sometimes see doesn’t sound so bad. Anything that confuses me like that makes it impossible for me to take it too seriously. After a recent Bad Poetry Post, I received a few e-mails with samples from some of my readers. I assume they sent them because they thought they were bad, I don’t really know, so you figure it out. I think the first one was sent to me because I’m from Maine and someone thought I might be interested in Moose poetry. Good luck with that one. Here it is . . .
A moose is like a bull on stilts With a silly kind of head. And if one of them sat on you You’d probably be dead.
Do you really think that’s bad poetry? It seems okay to me but nothing special. It’s a little bit of truth with a little bit of silliness. Here’s the next one which I really don’t understand about a Toad. It’s a little weird but kind of funny. It seems more like a limerick than poetry but when you get right down to it there isn’t much of a difference.
The story that is told By a severely flattened toad, Is of evidential failure In attempts to cross the road.
This next poem hits home for me primarily due to my advanced age and secondly because it brings back memories of my favorite grandmother who passed away a very long time ago. See what you think.
💖
Of love and marriage who can say, which way these things can go. A loving wife, a shrieking hag, no one will ever know.
The years of youth have come and gone, with memories good and bad. The happiness of family, the love of mom and dad.
The years should teach you something, or so we’re always told. Remain yourself no matter what, and mellow when your old.
Your life is filled with happiness, and sorrows big and small, But not until your old and gray, will you understand it all.
It is a shame that through the years, this knowledge lies unused. Erring and blundering again and again, with help and advice refused.
So, think about the elder ones, grandmothers, grandfathers and such, Who’ve experienced life’s many problems, and could help you oh so much.
Their days are few in number, and once their gone it’s sad. Accept their help and listen close, to the experiences that they’ve had.
And when they’ve gone, you’ll think of them the way they used to be. The memories are all you have, but that’s enough you see.
No matter what day of the week or month of the year, there’s always time for some of Mr. Asimov’s finely crafted limericks. These will tend to be a bit more off-color than the ones I usually post so keep your kids and prudish spouses clear. This is a really good way to kick off your week. Here we go . . .
Most of you readers enjoy the limericks I post but even more seem to enjoy the limericks created by kids. Here are a few more selections for your amusement.
As someone who’s crazy for limericks of all kinds, I thought I’d introduce a new contributor to this blog. The name is John Ciardi, and he was a close friend of Isaac Azimov, my favorite limerick author. They partnered up back in the 70’s and wrote a book of their limericks. It was a limerick war between the two as part of their competitive friendship. I’ve blogged many of Azimov’s limericks and I think it’s only fair to give Mr. Ciardi equal time. Here are a few of his gems.
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