I’ve spent most of my day dealing with a belligerent computer program that refuses to do its job. I shouldn’t be too upset since it’s a program I purchased about 10 years ago. I suspect that it has finally gotten to the point where my new computer is more than it can handle. It was a program used to write what I spoke. Now I’ll be forced to step back a few years and begin typing everything myself. I suppose I’ve gotten a little lazy over the years relying on that software. That being said I’m posting a few limericks today that were originally written sometime prior to 1960. Enjoy them unedited.
Here are a few limericks concerning food. They aren’t that bawdy, but they should still be considered “food for the soul”. So, enjoy them all especially the one with those juicycantaloupes.
I thought today would be a good day to post some poetry by youngsters. I’ve read all of the most famous poets, but they don’t give me the same kind of rush that poetry by younger people gives me. These were obtained from various English-speaking countries around the world. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have.
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THE GRASS by Warren Cardwell, age 8, United States
The grass seems to dance,
It seems to walk,
It seems to talk,
It seems to like to
Have you walk on it,
And play with it too,
It seems to be stronger than you or I.
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THE JELLYFISH by Glenn Davis, age 11, Canada
Dome-like top, speckled, comets converging.
Gold-green flesh, wave edges urging.
Jellylike globules, soft lattice arms,
Spiked fury, leather lash meting out harm.
Golden-smooth rods, waving whiplike with water,
Beauty and danger, the jellyfish slaughter.
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DEW ON A SPIDER WEB by Michael Capstone, age 10, New Zealand
I thought I’d start the month of October with a bang. Over the years I’ve posted thousands of limericks, and I hope I live long enough to post 10,000 more. I tried to pick a topic today to make these limericks a little more interesting. So, the topic for our October limericks is MOTHERHOOD. I’m sure all of you mothers out there, both male and female, will appreciate them.
Now that Labor Day has come and gone, we can all kick back, relax, and wait for the Fall foliage, then snow, and of course the string of holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukah, Christmas, New Years Eve and finally New Years Day. I’m exhausted already from just listing them all. Maybe I’m overdue for a two-month vacation to any remote island filled with topless native girls, beach feasts, and lots of grog and margaritas. But since that’s not happening how about we kick off the Fall season with a few “G” rated limericks.
I’m trying desperately to remain cool here in my man-cave. Our house is not airconditioned so needless to say I’ve been spending most of my time in my cave which is so much cooler than the upper floors. I’ve located fans all around to help keep my computer system from overheating and it also helps to have a fridge nearby filled with cold beer, chilled wine, and icy cold water. I’ll remain here until the weather breaks or until hell freezes over, whichever comes first.
So, let me think. What could possibly make a hot and steamy day better? Hmm! Raunchy limericks immediately come to mind, and I intend to share a few with you.
Oscar Wilde passed away in Paris in 1900. He spent the last few years of his life penniless and eventually died of neglect. He was a master playwright, poet and intellectual who was well known for his thousands of epigrams. It seems to me he would have been much more successful if he’d been born in the 20th or 21st century. To experience his wit and knowledge on an open forum talk show would have been absolutely amazing. Today I’ll post a few of my all-time favorites of his epigrams. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have over the years.
No great artist ever sees things as they really are; if he did, he would cease to be an artist.
Never trust a woman who tells you her real age; a woman who tells you that will tell you anything.
The proper basis for a marriage is mutual misunderstanding.
Men marry because they are tired, women because they are curious; both are disappointed.
Education is a wonderful thing, provided you always remember that nothing worth knowing can ever be taught.
We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.
A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing.
The old believe everything, the middle-aged suspect everything, and the young know everything.
To regain my youth, I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or become respectable.
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Here is one of my favorite quotes of his and it is partially responsible for the creation of this blog.
“It is a very sad thing that nowadays there is so little useless information around.”
Since it’s the Fourth of July I assume everyone is celebrating. I just wonder what exactly it is that they are actually celebrating. Some say it’s for the nation’s birthday, but I think in most cases that’s disingenuous. I celebrate this holiday with respect for the individuals who were responsible for the creation and continuing protection of America. That’s the extent of my feelings on the matter So . . .
HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!
I think it’s time to turn over the celebration to some worthy children and their poetry. Anything non-political is always the way to go for me. Poetry is always interesting, especially the work of younger children whose approach is often simple and powerful. Let’s go . . .
Written By Stefan Martul, Age 7, New Zealand
I feel drops of rain,
And it goes;SPLISH! SPLOSH!
On my head,
And sometimes it goes; SPLASH! BANG! CRASH!
on my coconut.
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Written by Hannah Hodgins, Age 11, United States
THE SACRED CLOUDS
The clouds are stuck and scared to move
For fear the trees might pinch them
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Written by Geeta Mohanty, Age 13, India
PEARLS ON THE GRASS
After the beautiful rain,
The rocks shine under the sun,
Like the droplets on the cobweb
Amongst the green, green grass.
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Written by V. Cokeham, Age 10, England
There is an umbrella
In the sky,
It must be raining
In Heaven
I have one prayer to say to God
Don’t let it rain tomorrow.
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“The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it.”
I’ve always thought of myself as quite the romantic but unfortunately there weren’t many women who agreed. All you really can do is accept your failings and keep on trying. I admit that after hearing ‘you’re not very romantic” a dozen or more times I finally got the message. Unfortunately, I never seemed to get it right and after discussions with other men I discovered it was quite possible that I wasn’t the entire problem. I continued to stumble along like a kid in a candy store with no pennies in his pocket. These limericks are for all of those ladies (and I use the term loosely) that didn’t appreciate my hundreds of romantic moves. These beautiful poems are a little dated, but they all have important information concerning men and women involved in “Little Romances”.
It’s time for some limerick history. As you may be aware I collect limericks from all sorts of sources. Recently I purchased a few small used books from an online thrift bookstore. Buying books in bulk is always a risk but sometimes it pays off with pleasant surprises. Today’s limericks were published in a small inconsequential book of just sixty pages in 1960. It’s been 64 years since then and many of the limericks in the book were collected from even older sources. They are officially titled “Laundered Limericks” meaning many were cleaned of obscenities to get them printed but still contain some vulgarities. I’d probably rate some of these as PG but that’s for you readers to decide.
everyuselessthing.com 