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.
The protozoan toxoplasmosis
causes fever and mild psychosis
in both rats and fools
who like changing rules
But it still beats coronary thrombosis
The doc’s hemostat, it’s gone missing,
His bosses will him be dismissing,
For he left it inside,
The lovely young bride,
Who’ll no longer her husband be kissing.
Her forceps, she just could not find,
“O merda! I’ve left them behind,
“I think in that patient,
“Whose tumor was nascent,
“Back to surg’ry, and please God be kind!”
The lady had toxoplasmosis,
But her doc said, “You have sarcoidosis,”
His wrong treatment, I think,
Is what caused her to drink,
In a year she was dead of cirrhosis!
Muireann, we should meet in Cancun,
Ad idem! It should be quite soon,
Be like Amber Marie,
And we’ll wear a wet tee,
And cancan beneath the full moon!
(Amber Marie is a burlesque performer in Sydney, see: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXxVueMrrKM )
Bruté my cat was a hoot
He ate two rats and a coot
My dad said he would pay him
If he would just slay them
Et tu brute? Here is some loot
Well I had to say to my cat
When he brought me home that small rat
Who was doing a twirl
like a small burlesque girl
Audentes fortuna juvat
I’m getting bored of this old one two
I’d prefer the shorter hai-ku
You can be just as witty without the forced ditty
And you don’t have to mention rat’s poo
Again I mention the rat
And the lion and the witch and the hat
It is so so boring
my lover is snoring
The pox, surgeries, et cetera
Muireann, we could go to Capri,
And dance just like Amber Marie,
We’d wear our wet tee shirts,
And with all the he’s flirt,
Ad idem? What say you? Oui, oui?
Poor Muireann had just gone to ground
The mad rat had gone back to the pound
She was all in a dither
Then Jann said come hither
(Post scriptum she’s now still around)
Oh I missed the one re Cancun
Can we go, can we go very soon?
My man has just dumped me
Said I was too lumpy
But I look good by the light of the moon
I really have rather good breasts
I’ll show them at punters’ behests
But cut me with a scalpel
I won’t show my ankles
Ps amber marie’s are the best
The surgeon mislaid his retractor,
That was only, re vera, one factor,
He came to work drunk,
And then passed out, kerplunk,
Now he plays an MD; he’s an actor.
The doc had his license suspended,
But, de jure, his career was not ended,
He tossed, through his curses,
Bloody tools at the nurses,
And left a sick dame unattended.
(This ia a true story; the suspension was for two years)
Look Jann doesn’t seem to be packing
Instead she is just bloody yakking
Re vera re amber marie
Re rats who have fleas
Re surgeons who’re up for a sacking
My pet rat got toxoplasmosis,
And a not quite so mild psychosis,
Tried to play with the cat,
Got the worst out of that,
So re vera, a bad diagnosis.
The theremin’s liked by Miguel,
But I think that this thing’s a hard sell,
The sounds, one can cause,
By waving one’s paws,
But just those with headphones can tell!
The theremin’s liked by Miguel,
But re vera, this thing’s a hard sell,
The sounds, one can cause,
By waving one’s paws,
But just those with headphones can tell!
(Oops, forgot the Latin the first time)
Trish and I have just lost our zest
I was dumped; her hamster decessed
I took to the drink her online’s on the blink
We bow out of the Jannual contest
There once was a woman from kroken
Whose hamster got wet and was soaking
He died of the cold before the vet could be told
He should never have taken up smoking
Well she wrapped the wee rat in a towel
rubbed its heart and vacated its bowel
she rubbed its soft head
said Lord take me instead
and lamented its skinny drawn jowls
she thought about telling her boy
to whom speedy had brought so much joy
and she knew that his tears
would be trumped by his tears
and she wished a replacement to buy
and while kroken was quieted with grief
to the hamster ’twas quite a relief
and while Euan was in mourning
his godmother was spawning
cold verse quite beyond his belief
Godmother has taken to bed
not because the poor hamster’s dead
but because she was bold
and bad things did unfold
and she now has a pain in her head
Oh no! She’s been bad yet again
Did she fall to verse as is her ken?
Auntie Noreen said ‘don’t’
but listen, she won’t
Now her bed bears the brunt not her pen
the hamster we cannot arouse her
and it is not the fault of the mouser
a new cage was brought back
and of grain a large sack
in Donatio Mortis Causa
Well that’s a very strange story
with not a small measure of glory
the hamster is dead
godmother’s in bed
you could say in momentum mori
Well I said in momentum mori
but that wasn’t the end of the story
she got up for a curry
to the jax in a hurry
Deus Meus! a big liquid glory
Sorry that was Trish above, not me. I would never make faecal references.
Well that’s the end of the story
poor speedy buried with glory
love rat departed
speedy non started
it’s a funny old world de jure
the old rat was terribly itchy
a pox was the cause, don’t be bitchy
the vet was astounded
his friends he all rounded
crying itchy rat, veni vidi vici
oh my God, i’ve them all in a rage
i was posting on the wrong page
putting trish in as well,
oh a rat they will smell
they’ll disqualify me at some stage
Can i send you a message from Trish
There’s a fault with her satellite dish
she’s bored and she’s cold
and her husband did scold
in re something to do with a fish
The mouser no longer could scare him
Truth be told, Speedy never could bear him
Though he did try his best
To put scalpel to rest
And by the graveside he sang Ave Verum
Trish tells me that mouser’s a cat
The hamster and he had a spat
But I’d be telling a lie
If I blamed his demise
Audentes fortuna juvat
Well when is Valentine’s day?
And how will love rat behave?
Will it take a forceps
to extract his wallet
Cave, we’ll make love in a cave
Na cuir aon cheist orm faoi mo dhan
Gan dabht is fearr e na amhran
ach glacfaidh me sos
is beidh me i mo thost
caca Milis agus Sharan Ni Bheoileain
Ta mo mhathair as Arainn don’t you know
Agus meascainn siad na teangai like so
nil aon gaeilge are rat,
I’ll guarantee that
na scalpel, na toxoplasmosis, na snow
To love rat whose behaviour had changed
lovesick a disease not yet named
non omnis moriar if i do not see stars
when love rat is proved to have mange
The love rat went up for election
he needed a change of direction
so in clinical trials
he denied his travails
and stood against all vivisection
The trials were conducted at random
the laboratories now wished they’d banned him
He crept in with his mange
and made his friends feel strange
inter alia, quod est demonstrandum
Don’t you talk badly of my love rat
lay off or i’ll knock you out flat
although he’s not mine
i think he’s divine
Mirable dictu that’s that
I think Muireann and Trish should both be disqualified. They seem to be using this competition as a forum to air their petty grievances and are not taking the competition seriously. For example in the last 28 posts there has been no mention of a burlesque performer and only one or two references to scalpels. Some of the limericks seem to be written in an unidentified foreign language and could have any meaning. How can that be judged? They should at least be asked for a translation. Also the limericks are of poor quality and there are too many of them. There should be a cap on the number of limericks allowed and there should be more control of unruly participants.
Now come come Anon, put your thinking cap on
Amber Marie ran away with the surgeon
we’ve done rat’s death to death
We were almost obsessed
Trish et Muireann adfuerunt pugnatum
Oh who gives a curse, we are not well-versed
in bog latin or rodents or burlersque
we’ve managed quite well
so please do not dwell
as Deus, things could be worse
Yes come on anon. Are you man or a mouse?
with a mutilated germ that is spawned from a louse
We will not be struck dumb
Nil desperandum
Alan alda’s folks stayed at my house
yeah i am with her you are but a cur
to suggest our verse is absurd
our verse may be wonky
but your name is manque
so judges will not take your word
Oh sorry that was me, not Trish. Did i explain that she is snowed in and her broadband is down and she’s cold and her hamster died so I am posting notes on her behalf (and taking no liberties).
what do you mean poor quality
i learned limericks on my dad’s knee
that’s where he was from
and now he’s long gone
So Limerick means much to me
True story: my dad was from Limerick but he never met Alan Alda. Post scriptum Trish and I are moving over to the surrealists.