PLEASE NOTE NEW, EMERGENCY, (literally) LAST-DAY RULE CHANGES BELOW!!!11!!!!
Time for the 8th (I think) annual Metamorphosism International Valentine’s Day Limerick Contest.
Enter in the comments to this post.
Winners will be announced on 14 February, 2009.
ENTER AS OFTEN AS YOU LIKE!!! But read the rules before entering! Or else!
IMPORTANT NOTICE: THERE HAS BEEN A SMALL CHANGE IN THE RULES FOR THIS YEAR’S CONTEST!!
SECOND IMPORTANT NOTICE! THERE HAS BEEN ANOTHER RULE CHANGE!
- Poems entered must be an actual limerick. We are strict about this.
- Entries must contain a Latin word or phrase.
- Extra points awarded for working in one of the following: a king, a burlesque performer, an extinct or rare musical instrument, a prosthesis, NEW: an obsolete, extinct or rare musical instrument. NEW RULE CHANGE HERE: No kings, prostheses or obsolete musical instruments after all. All entries with kings, prostheses or obsolete musical instruments will be disqualified. Unusual or innovative musical instruments will still be allowed. Instead of kings, extra points will be awarded for parasitic diseases affecting the behavior of rats. Prostheses and prosthetic devices shall be replaced by surgical equipment.
- NEW RULES (made necessary by the unfortunate flame war in the entries): entries are to include themes of general bawdiness, redeption and reconciliation. Bonus characters: famous peace activists, famous ventriloquists, escape artists. Bonus languages: Latin, Icelandic.
- 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.)
Feel free to search this site for past winners. Good luck.
Two questions:
Is the limerick, as before, required to be about love or some form of human attraction?
Does it have to be a real king (Henry VIII, for example), or just a generic king?
Do Latin words which have been incorporated into the English language count?
The king said his love gave him herpes,
In his throat, which had lessened his burp ease,
He said, “Off with her head,”
And then when she was dead,
Her belongings were split up per stirpes.
rule clarification:
1. rules subject to change without notice
2. human attraction is always good
3. real (or fictional) kings are better than generic kings
4. bona fide latin phrases will get you more points.
(ps if anyone is wondering what happened to some of the limericks in some of the previous contests, some of the archives here on metamorphosism got truncated in the move to the new host a few months ago, alas)
Desiree played the didgeridoo,
But for women, that seems a taboo,
She played for her lover,
He ran and took cover,
“Eo ipso, bad things come to you.”
OMG. i turn around and it’s valentine’s day coming again. without you and this contest, i’d barely notice.
The man said, “Please judge, I no hit her,
“I love her, it’s true, I no bit her,
“My prosthesis, she trip on,
“The setee, cut her lip on,”
The judge said, “Res ipsa lo-QUI-tur.”
Settee; s-e-t-t-e-e; not setee!
In a seranade to Elvis Pres-LEY
While putting his Aquaggasack in key.
Russell Brand said ‘peccavi’
Me ball-bags are a hemioplasty,
So I did it with Georgina Baillie.
“The theorbo’s extinct, that I think,
“From the 1750’s, ab hinc.”
Said her love, “That’s a lute,
“And I don’t give a hoot,
“So let’s not get our brains out of sync.”
They billed her as Amber Marie,
But the Englishman said, “It can’t be!
“It’s in Sydney she dances,
“She strips and she prances,
“Cave! Hold your cash! It’s not she.”
Hum, so much for getting any work done in the nest few days…. Latin ? I learned Greek and ancient Hebrew, always handy when bumping into an old Patriarch.
“The theorbo’s extinct, so you think,
“From the 1750’s, ab hinc?,
“For you thoughts about lutes,
“I don’t give two hoots,
“Just make sure that the gues play in sync!”
Mithridates, he died very old,
That’s the story, the way it was told,
Although poisons they gave him,
His potions would save him,
“Semper paratus!” His motto! I’m sold!
The first line is a variation of, “Mithridates, he died old,” from A.E. Housman’s “Terence, This is Stupid Stuff” (A Shropshire Lad)
The küsle he played; that’s a zither,
To coax the fair maids to come hither,
Then an orgy ensued,
And with conduct quite lewd,
Deus meus! Now the town’s in a dither!
Since I think the time of King John
I’m sure the emiriton’s gone
de gustibus non est disputandum
The accordion’s now number one
The melodium invented by Bode
Did not catch on so I’m told
Von teese let it go and King Zog thought poor show
And he legged it back up the road
When Georgina had first tried the sachs
King George would not have said pax
Complaints weren’t in it, with a lyre she did swing it
Then her false leg fell into the jacks
The melodium invented by Bode
Did not catch on so I’m told
Von teese let it go
and King Zog thought poor show
And he legged it back up the road
Since I think the time of King John
I’m sure the emiriton’s gone
de gustibus non
est disputandum
The accordion’s now number one
When Georgina had first tried the sachs
King George would not have said pax
Complaints weren’t in it,
with a lyre she did swing it
Then her false leg fell into the jacks
Muireann cannot believe
That her friend would then plead
That her limericks were terribly wonky
one line not returned for this she must burn
it’s not her poems but her friend that is manqué
Non omnis moriar
If I cannot have a jar
With king George who is fond of the sonar
But I cannot defend that my very good friend
Would return and return to disbar
The melodium invented by Bode
Did not catch on so I’m told
Von teese let it go
and King Zog thought poor show
And he legged it back up the road
Since I think the time of King John
I’m sure the emiriton’s gone
de gustibus non
est disputandum
The accordion’s now number one
When Georgina had first tried the sachs
King George would not have said pax
Complaints weren’t in it,
with a lyre she did swing it
Then her false leg fell into the jacks
I have just been dumped by a fella
He was no King Zog I can tell ya
He could have just phoned
Instead he wrote me a poem
His false leg was the true casus belli
My husband found poems to this fellow
I’ve latterly christened Othello
My credit’s expired,
He called me a lyre
Mens sana in corpore sano
My husband has no underpants
He did a burlesque little dance
If I spent time washing clothes
instead of on poems
We would have, inter alia, pants
Jann’s your man for the Limericks I think
Not at all what you might call a fink
King Mithridates’ his friend.
Oh he’ll win in the end
And his prize? A lute and a wink
Ha ha! I like your limericks, Muireann! But, for the record, Jann is a lady. Well, a woman anyway; she hopes she’s a lady.
Said the king, “You may write what’s quite lewd,
“But some Latin you all must include,”
But this throws off the timing,
Plays hell with the rhyming,
So merda! Now we say things quite rude!
I just heard that Jann’s not a man
And I heard she can do the cancan
She’s related to Zog,
Who is rather a dog
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
My husband and I are ad idem
My boyfriend is just causing mayhem
With a didgeridoo
he is now trying to woo
Lolita, King Zog’s dancing cousin
Lim’ricks should not be about me,
All the more with untruths I can see,
Would I call you a dog?,
Or imply you’re a hog?,
I would not! What the heck’s wrong with thee?!
What the heck is the matter with me?
I asked that when I saw him flee
His damned hurdy gurdy
Was not all that sturdy
Pox vobiscum to him and to thee
With rage the king shook in his shoes,
“Absit omen! This must be a ruse,”
For his fiddler from Riga,
Played only the giga,
And his lutists would play only gues!
His damn hurdy gurdy was flacid
And King Zog’s royal assent was quite tacit
But when he read of T’s pants
And his little burlesque dance,
said “Aut insanit homo, aut versus facit”
Muireann Noonan is not too amused
That her poems are being abused
It’s just tit for tat
versus pestilent rats
Ergo Von Teese will have to show boobs
When bloggers play coy with rules,
Their contests are labors for fools,
“You say you want Latin?”
“Not at all, I meant satin,”
Cave! Lest the fans lose their cools.
We came to hear Mark play bazantar,
Now we’re musing, “Does that rhyme with canter?,
“Does one say bazan-TAR,
“So it rhymes with bizarre?”
“Tacete! He plays. Stop the banter!”
The burlesque performer Moon Líly,
Ran off with a handsome hill bílly,
They lived in Kentucky,
Which she thought quite ducky,
“Valete,” to both husbands in Philly.
He played lovely tunes on his zither,
And summoned the young virgins hither,
The night was quite mild,
He left three with child,
Eo ipso! His mentula will wither!
Said Miguel, “You may write what’s quite lewd,
“But some Latin you all must include,”
But this throws off the timing,
Plays hell with the rhyming,
So merda! Now we say things quite rude!
The man said, “Please judge, I no hit her,
“I love her, it’s true, I no bit her,
“My scalpel, she trip on,
“The settee, cut her lip on,”
The judge said, “Res ipsa lo-QUI-tur.”
My liege said his love gave him herpes,
In his throat, which had lessened his burp ease,
He said, “Off with her head,”
And then when she was dead,
Her belongings were divied per stirpes.
Toxoplasma gondii found in rats,
Makes of them easy meals for cats,
Their behavior it alters,
Normal caution, it falters,
Now my cat has the nickname of “Fats”!
Trish rang me for almost an hour
Cos a love rat had brought me a flower
Me and Dita had a close shave
Love rats do misbehave
Ergo don’t give the pests any power
Jann, now that I know you’re a girl
Why don’t we just give it a whirl
We’d meet in the rats keller,
I won’t tell my feller
It would just cause his brow to furl
I just haven’t told you this yet
That I have been attending a Vet
My rat’s weils make him smile
We’ll be there a while
Ergo please keep it all a secret
Is there something wrong with your time?
It seems to be four hours behind
When I post up a note
which I then con by rote
It is breakfast not supper on line
Am I bugging you now with my verse
It’s a pestilent poxridden curse
But composing lines
And not working is fine
Until underpants time there’s a dearth