Monday, March 22, 2010

Monday Poetry Stretch - Limericks

I should have thought to work on this form last week while everyone was celebrating St. Patrick's Day. Well, better late than never. I love limericks. They always make me smile and sometimes even laugh out loud. I'm particularly fond of some of the poems in Grimericks, written by Susan Pearson and illustrated by Gris Grimly. Here's one of them.
Augustus, a ghoul who played chess,
felt his game was a howling success.
      If a player could beat him,
      then Gus would just eat him,
"Too bad," he said. "One player less."
What kind of limerick(s) will you write? Leave me a note about your poem(s) and I'll post the results here later this week.


  1. This is from AN EGRET'S DAY and I will try and write a new limerick later.

    Nesting, An Egret Limerick

    Our home it is here in the sticks,
    With three very boisterous chicks.
    They bully and fight
    Until they take flight,
    But it’s nothing that we cannot fix.

    ©2010 Jane Yolen, all rights reserved

  2. Hey Tricia,

    Thank you for your very kind comment this morning.

    Here's my limerick:

    a woman on chemo one day
    thought the world was just crumbling away
    then she felt the clouds lift
    and said thanks for the gift
    of my life. Now I think I will stay.

    Thanks for the challenge!

    Andrea -- Our Breast Cancer Journey

  3. OK--here's what I've got:

    A writer who wrote only prose
    Took a very unwelcoming pose:
    “There are things that no poet
    Could bloody well know, it
    Takes more than addressing a Rose.”

    But the poet, in turn, gave a look.
    Said, “It’s more than just writing a book
    Of hundreds of pages,
    Of arcs, plots, and stages,
    Or catching your fish with that Hook.”

    The reader addressing the two,
    Said, “Nothing you say or you do
    Can make my heart twitter.
    So stop with the bitter.
    Really, you haven’t a clue!”

    So which of the three has it right?
    Is there poetry or prose in your sight?
    Or do both have a place
    In the read-writing race,
    Bringing all of us readers delight?

    © 2010 Jane Yolen, all rights reserved

  4. A housewife once started to jog
    With a ferret, three kids, and a dog.
    She set a slow pace
    And got red in the face,
    So instead she decided to blog.

    --Kate Coombs, 2010

  5. OK--so limericks are addictive. In honor of Barbara Cooney AND our fair hostess here, I wrote this last one. And now I am quitting cold turkey.

    Miss Rumphius loved things of blue
    So decided she knew what to do.
    She spent her spare hours
    By planting blue flowers,
    And my! How those hours just flew!

    © 2010 Jane Yolen, all rights reserved

  6. I just wrote this last night for the Pinkwater Podcast contest. The theme was insects...

    There's a fly who parasitizes
    and on one beetle it specializes.
    It lays eggs in their larvae.
    Maggots hatch and are starvy.
    So they eat them from their insideses.

  7. There once was a cat with no tail
    who ordered herself one by mail.
    When it came she said, "Thanks.
    I’m no longer a Manx.
    It’s too small, but I got it on sale."

  8. Here's an old limerick that I wrote many years ago:

    Gorillas and camels and gnus
    All hurried to line up by twos...
    Couldn't wait to embark
    Upon Noah's new ark
    And relax on a forty-day cruise.

  9. Williamean Limerick

    I want to write poems – it’s true.
    Amazing Word-Art – wouldn’t you?
    But how is it done?
    I’m having no fun.
    Is this meter right? I’ve no clue.

    A poem – I think shouldn’t be
    So hard that one needs a degree
    To understand it,
    To deem it legit -
    But then I watch lots of TV…

    They say Shakespeare wrote in fine rhyme.
    I wonder if he’d have the time
    If he lived today
    Could he find a way
    To cook, work AND write words sublime?

    OK, so a Shakespeare I’m not.
    I’m just a raft. He’s a yacht.
    Is that metaphor?!
    Would you like some more?
    It may be that I have a shot!

    by Liz Korba