Time for the annual Metamorphosism Valentine’s Day Limerick Contest.
Entries should be made in the comments to this post.
Winners will be announced on 14 February, 2007.
ENTER AS OFTEN AS YOU LIKE!!! Extra points for productivity!!!
Rules:
- Poems entered must be a freaking limerick. We are getting stricter about this every year.
- Entries must have, as a theme, some aspect of human attraction.
- Extra points awarded for working in one of the following: hereditary disease, Celtic deity, automobile brand/model (real or fictional), a truss
- Rules subject to change without warning (changes will be posted here or in a subsequent post)
(Note: Over the years, a number of rude etc expressions have been added to the comment blacklist so if the comments refuse your entry that might be the reason. In that case, mail it to me at metamorphosist (at) gmail dot c0m and I’ll set you up.)
The man had received extreme unction.
He’d been born with some renal dysfunction.
A new kidney was gotten
From a lady besotten.
He proposed to her absent compunction.
The Morr
A man of intellect inferior
Lived deep in a convent’s interior;
He did to a nun
What he shouldn’t have done,
And now she’s a Mother Superior.
Seriously strong entries this year. I can’t hope to compete.
Patience, grasshopper.
The gentleman from Minnesota
Was proud of his RAV4 Toyota.
Removing two seats
Allowed all kinds of feats.
As for ladies, he’d more than his quota.
Rhiannon felt some consternation:
She hadn
The old codger was wearing his truss,
But in bed, the dang thing made him cuss.
It entangled two feet,
And got caught in the sheet.
Said his lady, “We’re in quite a muss!”
There was young woman with Tourettes,
who had some mindblowing sex
she hopped in a Jeep
pre-formed a deepthroated *BLEEP*
then screamed obscenities of bad etiquette.
The physician was stern with the crooner:
“Put this truss on right now, if not sooner.”
But the groupies said, “Doc,
Not before six o’clock;
Let’s don’t spoil a great afternooner!”
The lady was born somewhat spastic,
But her medicine made her quite plastic.
From all over the land,
Came the gents, cash in hand,
For the pretzel-like sex was fantastic!
A Benz-driving diabetic
When told he looked
(I’m going for the productivity points)
Though Eleanor had hip dysplasia,
Her fortitude
My Honda
Ode to the Celtic God of Love
Where other gods get kind attention,
Dwynwen knows but condescension.
At least Aphrodite
Can be rhymed with Mighty
And Venus, with parts you can’t mention.
Yay, Lisa D.! Your productivity is inspiring!
The fair ladies, they came on the run,
To see which Celtic gods were more fun.
Though the deities dallied,
They couldn’t be tallied.
Seemed like each had five names, if he’d one!
There was a Manannan Mac Lir
Who drove his jag down for to see