IMPORTANT NOTICE: THERE HAS BEEN A LAST-MINUTE RULE CHANGE! SEE BELOW!
Things you should know, in no particular order:
This contest has been going for years, and is extremely popular. The entries are awe-inspiring. Last year some of the winners got a prize. This year, I have saved one or more of my books (Little-Known Facts) and will award it/them as a prize. I think I will get someone else to adjudicate the contest for me this year. THE DEADLINE IS 13 FEBRUARY 2010. Winners will be announced on Valentine’s Day.
RULES ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE. That’s just the way life is. Anything else would be, like, trying to deny this fact about our existence. Here are the rules at the present moment:
- Entries must be a limerick. Go to wikipedia.org, type “limerick” in the box, go to the entry about the poetic form, not the town, and read.
- Or google it, or whatever you people do.
- Limericks must include a structural misconception.
- Extra points for composers, musical forms, and Mahatma Gandhi jokes.
- Report on last year’s contest here.
- The arbitrary structural misconception rule was throwing people off (it was that, right?) so that has been eliminated. And composers have been done before, I think. And Gandhi wasn’t really being milked for the maximum comedy there, despite the fact that he used to sleep naked with young women to test his resolve, according to Wikipedia or someplace.
- So instead, the following rules will be in place:
- The limericks must be, as limericks often are, about love, especially its dodgier aspects BUT however use of the word “love” will result in instant disqualification. (Gamma suggested that one, I’m so proud.)
- Extra points will be awarded for the following: disgraced medical treatments, freshwater amoeba, character actors from the “That Guy” list of actors, skeletal bones, Irish politics, Irish writers, legal concepts, punctuation, and apocrypha.
SUBMIT ENTRIES IN THE COMMENTS TO THIS POST! Please include a valid email address (not posted) so that you can be contacted in case you win. Or don’t, whatever.
I am not an official entrant this year. I’m adopting the Navajo philosophy, which, according to Tony Hillerman, means that if you win something three times in a row, you don’t enter the next time. But I might contribute a limerick now and then, unofficially.
I can’t separate things into paragraphs on your blog, mig, so this note refers to the limerick which will follow. The structural misconception is in putting the definite article after the noun in the first line.
Man the he’d written a song,
But, golly, he’d sure got it wrong,
He wrote about Ghandi,
He rhymed it with randy,
And said he was known for his dong!
A rhyme of six lines is perverse
But to write in couplets is a curse
But with Gandhi humming
And Handel with him strumming
A couple and two couplets make my verse
I once knew a man named DeJin
He was known to grow hair on his chin
when I asked why this was so
he replied very slow
In this repressive economic prison, I am forced to work for such meager restitutions so that my employer can increase their margins that I can not afford to by razors
The remodeler took out a support,
The house stood; “It is strong, like a fort,
“Advice we don’t heed,
“Supports we don’t need,”
Now the roof’s on the floor; he’s in court!
This is based on an true experience with my late father-in-law, which fortunately turned out better than this, i.e., the building did not actually collapse.
The beat of a lim’rick to me,
Is as perfect as perfect can be,
Any structu’al misconceptions,
Lie in the directions,
And Lerner and Lowe would agree.
Tee hee hee!
An op’ra soprano named Heather,
Worked a cruise ship in very bad weather,
When she hit those high seas (sic),
Oh golly, oh geez, hic,
She found herself quite a bit seasick.
Cinders’ suitor at last broke the silence
The lost Schumann had searched low and high lands.
Serenaders could sing
But they couldn’t have strings
For he followed Ghandi’s path of non violins.
Richard Rodgers and Oscar the second,
Their music the whole country beckoned,
On Broadway for years,
Amidst millions of cheers,
To nobody did they come second, I reckon.
Misconceptions, and this I declare,
Are things of which one’s not aware,
All errors made by choice,
By pen or by voice,
Don’t fit the description; so there!
Pretense is here something we share.
I see Jann’s not participating this year.
Writing lim’ricks is fun as can be,
First you pick out a topic, you see,
Then you find words that rhyme,
Fix the rhythm and time,
Then you add a “mistake” if needs be,
(Cuz this year an error is the key).
Shel Silverstein seems all the rage,
Mason’s class learned the poems on the page,
All written by Shel,
And recited quite well,
By the children who’re seven of age
Twas a reason they got on the stage:
Barnes and Noble had books they would sell,
And the school’d get the profit, how swell,
Parents came for the verse,
The school got the purse,
Twas a venture we hope turned out well,
All the angst over money to quell.
That limericks all should be dirty,
I’ve heard many times, maybe thirty,
But these here, en masse,
Are not of that class,
Not even a little bit flirty, alas.
I once knew a heart wrapped in blood
That pumped to its hearts content
Each cell was so swell
that all marvelled and sent
Valentine’s for Love to tell
When Gandhi spoke of Love
He looked upon the dove
And said how pure can one heart be
Then looked in the mirror and said,
Why look at that, it’s me!
A pretty picture of Valentine-Led
A limerick is a wordy trick
meant to sort of stick in your head
To tie it up with Valentine’s
Make light of Love and perhaps that’s good
Cuz then it’s more easily understood
A limerick for Valentine’s Day
Sets sentiment aside for words to play
With a jot and a tittle and
a fiddle dee dee
Just look at this Love’s ABC’s display!
I Wish i might, may say today
In my own flusterated way
I am here and now and
You are mine I vow
My somewhere, sometime Valentine
I dare say Ghandi knew his peace
While I know my carrots and peas
Next comes chocolate truffles
A dress with white ruffles
And we both love the dog with fleas
Say, give me a whirl of romance
Just don’t ask me for to dance
Nor this and that
I prefer my cat
O horizons I must enhance!
Until the sky turns to fire
My heart is filled with desire
It’s plain to see
My diary is free
But I still wish and not tire
My Valentine is as good as gold
Or so I have been so very told
By those who are bold
And seemingly sold
on our love being good as gold
I learned to write a limerick
And what good did it do
I still get up
Put on my shoes
And the cows they still say Moo
Some say I waste the time
On nonsense like this rhyme
If I choose to stay here
Then what may you care
Playing letters like a french mime
Stay awhile and be my Valentine
And sign the official dotted line
Then say “I do’
Your love is true
And perhaps we should become one mind
If I may say it’s been a lovely day
And you reply it sure has been okay
And I hear bells
And you don’t say
What can I expect on Valentines’ Day?
This is my very last limerick
There must be a rule that sticks
One more makes you sick
Like a bite from a tick
Or a candle without a wick
I’m back today with more of the same
A valentine’s wish for the lonely and plain
And for those that are not
who are sometimes just bought
And true loves who never do feign
There once was a man named Doo-Dad
Who lived in a shack that was sad
The roof was just able
To hold up a fable
Of the sad shack and the man named Doo-Dad
There once was a story that survived all its glory
It’s radience still shines yet today
It was printed and then
The author did send
It away and its still shining there today
There once was a limerick I didn’t take
So I said hey you, go jump in the lake
He then snazzled my brain
But what did he gain
But a fan that’s a fanciful fake
While the time away you may say
But the Limerick is here to stay
Such as Valentine’s Day
All frolic and play
With none of the sweets on the tray
There was a child who was very mild
And there was none as mild as this child
Who fell sleep one day
And never rose to play
So the once mild child is now filed
The Limerick woke me up out of sleep
Like a jolt of midnight creep
It was poking my brain
Making somewhat insane
With words that were just so deep!
Red Hearts and rose flower
With chocolates to devour
from milk of cows
That always wows
Every year on Valentine’s hour
Sorry if I bored you I pray
With my limericks all gone astray
I’ll try to be brief
And to your relief
Say this is enough for today!
There once was a man named Rick Limer
Loving limericks as a heart does tick
He then earned some fame
When he did but claim
To change his name to Limer Rick
Pingback: Metamorphosism» Blog Archive » Last-minute limerick contest rule change:
Big rule change. I would now like to be an official contestant. Am I allowed to change my mind? First limerick under the new rules:
Sue’s beau had become quite distracted,
Their hope for a future redacted,
He’d swum in a lake,
A ghastly mistake,
For N. fowleri he’d contracted!
there once was a man from tangiers
who found that he couldn’t shed any tears
so when he visited a whore
and bashed her head with a door
he wished had chosen a different career
as a young couple went walking one sunday
the man said to the girl maybe one day
when grow limber enough
and trim down that tuft
i won’t get caught in the seaweed while diving
though the stars above the earth doth shine
and the depths of my heart be thine
the next time in bed
when there is an ache in your head
I’ll go get the asprin bottle and fuck it
there once was a wife who would talk
and her husband was sharp as a hawk
when he tried to write prose
she whistled through her nose
and they all laughed when she said the word caulk
one roomate had bought a new TV
and the other had naught so said he
I’ll wait till he leaves
then leave it paused and we’ll see
how he likes the giant burn mark of gay porn on his screen
Now Gamma has set us a task,
One should not undertake sans a flask,
Why is it strong liking,
Is rhyming with biking,
Instead of with dove?, one might ask.
He wrote poems for the lady he’d marry,
But the road to true rhythm was hairy,
Their thirst they did quench,
From a pond with no stench,
And acquired amoebic dysentery.
For the lady, he felt a strong liking,
He asked if she’d care to go hiking,
From the path did they stray a bit,
And rolled in the hay a bit,
For the next date he thought they’d try biking!
He thanked the dear heavens above,
For his lady was sweet as a dove,
And what were his musings,
As he thouught of their fusings?
“Aye, we fit like a hand in a glove.”
The first night, it should be magnificent,
But the bride was decidedly diffident,
She stayed in the shower,
For over an hour,
And the groom? It was off in a tiff he went!