Limerick Poems About Art | Art Limerick Poems
Poem Details | by Seren Roberts |
Categories: humorous,

Trembles and Thrills

there was a young girl from Surrey
whose love life was all of a hurry
so went for sex advice
from a madam of vice
now can tease and tempt without worry

she has learnt the art of foreplay
hope he has the libido to stay
her tweaking and kisses
sure has no misses
has a smile on his face all day

his friends ask was it more than a kiss
said he can't disclose what it is
that has made his day
in a wonderful way
said his trembles and thrills were just bliss


penned Nov 3 2015


Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: humorous,

BLOWING IN THE WIND - INSPIRED BY A BL DEVNATH POEM

Have you tried suppressing a big fart - Clenching your buttocks is a fine art You hope your windy gas Doesn’t shoot out your ass and from the room you quickly depart 7th March 2015 Inspired by BL Devnath’s Please don’t laugh poem


Poem Details | by Beau Regard |
Categories: art, people, father, art,

A Portrait of Vincent VanGogh

To the proud parents, Anna and Theo
A serious lad, silent and thorough
A clan of preachers
And dealers of art
From the southern Netherlands came Van Gogh

When sent to school, he did not want to go
The separation led to much sorrow
But he learned to draw
Whatever he saw
Sent off to sell art in Paris, Van Gogh

His happiest time, and now in love, oh
Till the landlady’s daughter told him no
Now a broken heart
Surly to sell art
Fired from his job in Paris, Van Gogh

Vincent sought out a coal miners’ burrow
A priest of sorts, but a squalid fellow
The church was appalled
And cursed his resolve
To the asylum for crazy Van Gogh?

His father baffled, on the verge of foe
Art interest, once again, began to grow
Back to school again
This time, in His name
To paint in the service of God, Van Gogh

School’s out, back to his parents he would go
Using neighbors as subjects to ditto
Proposed to his cousin
Which she found disgustin’
Burning his hand to see her, holy Van Gogh!?!

Now off to The Hague, a family furlough
To live with Sien, a boozing bimbo
A man to see ya…
Caught gonorrhea
Three weeks in the hospital for Van Gogh

The pain of loneliness drove him back home
Once again, a failed love with fair Margot
Then Vincent’s father died
He grieved deeply inside
The tragedy further refined Van Gogh

Finally, Vincent’s work was in the know
“The Potato Eaters” made an art show
Just add more color
Said his dear brother 
Rubens brightened the dark gloom of Van Gogh

Vincent’s diet: coffee and tobacco
Mixed with absinthe began to take its toll
Though he kept on painting
Then Paris, more training
The end was getting closer for Van Gogh

The masters: Monet, Degas, Pissarro
Cezanne, and Seurat in his studio
Influenced his style
Learning all the while
That time was running out for MrVan Gogh

Then he moved to Arles, bad health in tow
Completing great works the whole world would know 
“Sunflowers” (in vase)
“The Café Terrace”
Minus one ear, the frail, ailing Van Gogh

With his tattered mind, and mournful woe
Committed to the asylum, Mausole
With his final works
“The Church at Auvers”
“Starry Night” was painted in pain, Van Gogh

“At Eternity’s Gate”, he was sorrow
Wandered into a field, farmer’s fallow
Put a bullet in his chest
In hopes of peaceful rest
“The sadness will last forever”, Van Gogh


Poem Details | by T Wignesan |
Categories: satire,

Limerick: Once Academic got into panic

Limerick: Once Academic got into panic

Once Academic got into panic
Asked to make rival’s panegyric
He copied article
Sans def’nite article:
Learned art he was trained to mimic.

© TWignesan – Paris, 2013


Poem Details | by POET. UNDERTAKER |
Categories: humor,

White Magic



Once there was an intellect called Muster Magic
They say,” fellow has an art of his own- white Magic”
“we couldn’t comprehend” they say
“we couldn’t hear his voice” they say
bloody  just a language of mind is white Magic!


Poem Details | by Barbara Gorelick |
Categories: humorous,

A Good Wife Is Hard To Find



When worked up and yelling a sight to behold She was an expert on the art of the scold But she was good in bed And kept him well fed And he was quite deaf if the truth be told


Poem Details | by Dorian Petersen Potter |
Categories: funny, humorous,

King Arthur

(Limerick) There once was an owl named Argonne That read a lot of King Arthur and Avalon Of Merlin & the sword of Power Of Camelot, and all the square Knights, who sat 'round when Art call'd upon! Dorian Petersen Potter Aka ladydp2000 Copyright@2014 10.4.2014


Poem Details | by Kyle kriticos |
Categories: dedication,

Super Duper Discounts

There once was a man named Art 
Who was thrifty and shopped at WalMart 
He was happy with life
As he rode on his bike
Till the bearings fell apart..



By: Kyle Ezra Kriticos


Poem Details | by Andrea Dietrich |
Categories: funny,

Ma Bell, Where Art Thou

Ma Bell, Where Art Thou?

I just constantly need to be shown
how to work half the gadgets I own.
At my now older age
the new “Smart” phone’s the rage;
I still have not mastered a DUMB phone!


(I posted the title again because Soup's title line
disallows question marks, which I find are very
necessary in some poem titles! And I bet if a 
young'un reads this, they won't even know what
Ma Bell represents! BTW, it was the name of the
telephone company used by many in my childhood.
It seemed to have a monopoly on land lines!)


For "Techno-Limericks Poetry Contest"


Poem Details | by Eve Roper |
Categories: art,

Vacation in Manhattan

Vacation in Manhattan Thought I was going to be bored when we Were told we were going to see A panel hinged shutter My speech was beginning to stutter Jan van Eyck’s nude art I see
12/28/2015 The Ghent Altarpiece by Jan van Eyck is a very large and complex early 15th-century Early Flemish polyptych panel paintingThe altarpiece comprises 12 panels, eight of which are hinged shutters Artists: Hubert van Eyck, Jan van Eyck Period: Northern Renaissance Dimensions: 11' 6? x 15' 1?


Poem Details | by Derrick Shane |
Categories: art, beautiful, care, love,

Acting

My notion at its most masochistic
The crowd, laughs, quite the kick.
I've never enjoyed anything more
The art is my greatest lore.
It's the only life I'd ever pick.


Poem Details | by T Wignesan |
Categories: satire,

Limerick crochetes Portrait of a Dead Brit Nazi Lord of the Lollypoppians

Limerick crochetés: Portrait of a Dead Brit Nazi, Lord of the Lollypoppians
                   Part One
Once an uppity man from Poland
Wed a stumpy wench from High Golan
     Result: mangy mongrel
     Was no way you could tell
His front from his toady tail-end
   
In Broughton raised as Mancunian
For his stature was Lilliputian
     Sent up to hot Eton
     To become smooth Briton 
Of hoi polloi he nursed low opinion 

There at the clubby institution   
Three thorough-breds of noble distinction
     Chased him in quadrangle
     Stuck dildos up sockle
In his hock-filled mouth sans elocution 

Lacking shining past in his pedigree
Made him mug up facts in history    
     Shot up into Oxford  
     Father grandeur afford
Marks and shillings through frilly lingérie 


At New College what spoke most was money
Free drinks all around and clothes so horney
     So things ran with his ilk
     Reeking of mothers’ milk
Ere going down he rode high and pretty
      
Once down he was not down and out either
With free hand in till of his step-mother
     In book trade old mongrel 
    The art of the scoundrel
He made much of his blithering litter

Dreamed day and night of the House of Lords
To rub knees with the Chancellor of Boards
      Stuffed Labour coffers cash
      Stood for Commons: whiplash
Injury by hoi polloi on records

© TWignesan – Paris, 2014 
      
      
	


Poem Details | by catherine Reinke |
Categories: inspirational, nature, passion, seatree,

Palm Tree Delight

P   A   L   M      T    R     E      E      D   E   L   I   G   H   T
Written by Catherine Reinke


In your arms, I lay behold ,
gentle winds and sea salt kiss.
Shade full arms from hot sun bold 
coco milk sweet, lovers dish.

My naked skin, sun loves to play
lying under this palm tree day.

Listen  to your  arms wind sound.
No gentler tender song I’ve found.

Tension, grief, sorrow and more,
all left behind seaside’s door.

For here life’s origins, beget and made
ancient past lives, memories to fade.

But here in Tulum, my friendship sea
I find myself, in gentle palm tree.

And so from youth my memory serves
a poem that retold again deserves.

“that only God can make a tree and
…poems are written by fools like me”

Truly then and true today
That Godly art create tree play.

For made he did a vast array
charming comfort of trees I say.
Strong steadfast oaks.
Wispy willows.
Lilac purples for ones pillow.
Cedar pillars ancient.
Rain forest lush,
only the palm tree 
makes me bush.

Round coco breasts filled with milk.
Erect pillar penetrating fronds of silk.


So, in your arms I want to be
naked, contentment, happy and free.
And so end my tree poetic attempt
of my love affair palm tree spent.













Poem Details | by T Wignesan |
Categories: humorous,

Limerick: Once the Yogi of Himalaya or the Laughing Gas Yogi

Limerick: Once the Yogi of Himalaya
                      or the laughing gas Yogi

		I

Once the Yogi of Himalaya
Preached laughing loud with Prânâyâma*
They thought him immortal
Put him on pedestal
Now he’s the toast of lost Gondwana.

		II

Once the same Yogi Himalaya
Taught laughing during Prânâyâma*
Lungs stuck to diaphragm
Voice: phonocardiogram
Now he’s part of iced Fujiyama.

•	Sanskrit for the art of breathing in yogic practices:
•	prânâ = (cosmic) energy; âyâma = vitality.

© TWignesan – Paris,  2013


Poem Details | by John lawless |
Categories: drink, ireland,

Guinness Finesse

Guinness Finesse

There’s an art to the pouring of Guinness
requiring a devilish finesse
twixt the foam and the ale
the rule cannot fail
never pour ‘til the first one is finished.


John GLawless
2/28/2015


Poem Details | by Carolyn Devonshire |
Categories: humor,

Chaos in Soupdom

Chaos in Soupdom

Sweet Susan’s promiscuous poem
Sparked chaos in Poetry Soupdom
     The ladies were fleeing
     No art were they seeing
But men were all begging for "moresome"!




*Written May 19, 2014


Poem Details | by Mohan Chutani |
Categories: beauty, fun, life,

Past Life

In past life I hailed from Shitterton 
and loved good food and plenty of action
Once a witch visited town
Who taught her art to me clown
With my magic wand I had more fun

A lass named Bustyview took my fancy
Gave me no airs, vane was her beauty
Decided to trick her in
Prince became I to her grin 
Lived thereafter happily with she

Form: Limerick, 2 stanzas of 5 lines each 
(sylcount:9,10,7,7,9,10,9,7,7,9), Rhyme: AABBA


Poem Details | by Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen |
Categories: socialslam, poetry, slam,

The Intent Is Lost!

No event!  No audience!  Brain spasm! 
Is it fun for the sponsor that has 'em?
Folks numerically judge.
Presentations with grudge -
Slam without performance is a chasm.

How in cyberspace can one perform his poem?
Can U-tube audiences judge random? 
There must be an event.
That is the slam intent.
Otherwise, it becomes aimless, gruesome.

There once was a poet who disliked slam.
She slammed anyway while eating eggs and ham.
I was told by a bird -
She got choked on her word.
Too bad it was not performed for the cam!

© July 21, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen

A SPECIAL THANKS GOES TO OUR POETRY SOUP TEAM for their continued support of the art of poetry in all of its forms and for their sensitivity to the needs of poets on Poetry Soup SLAM POETRY is about performance It is about beliefs and opinions...NOT just about dissing Some SLAM Poetry is purely beautiful I visited the link posted on their recent blog http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=8723097898466379752#  It was a marvelous experience SMILES


Poem Details | by Jack Ellison |
Categories: humorous,

Longfellows



Never professed to be a great poet Just a dabbler in the art but my big feet show it Longfellows they are Bigger by far To operate them in public, I need a permit


Poem Details | by Marley Dean |
Categories: art, blue, moon, night,

Night Sky

The sky was a blazing dark blue
The stars lit on fire glimmered too
The moon was pure white
But just not too bright
The art of an evening brand new


Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: humorous,

Over A Barrel Horn Limerick

Over A Barrel Horn Limerick

Once had been over a barrel
Did decide to sing Christmas Carol
Heard that best way to be living
Is learn from God art of giving
How to start wearing Santa apparel.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet


http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx


Poem Details | by Jack Ellison |
Categories: humorous,

Longfellows



Never professed to be a great poet Just a dabbler in the art but my big feet show it Longfellows they are Bigger by far To operate them in public, I need a permit


Poem Details | by Richard Olson |
Categories: political, truth,

Charlatan King

He was a fox in the art of the deal.
From the flocks, nest eggs he would steal.
He'd cheat on his spouse,
this white-collar louse,
for the chance to cop just a feel.

He bathed in the light of his fame.
Obsessed with the sound of his name.
Money came first,
though never dispersed,
for him it was all just a game.

He sat all alone in his tower.
Dreaming of absolute power.
Reality waned,
whenever he reigned,
in a mind that would twist by the hour.

He was a child in a much older shell.
Carried by slaves when he fell.
He never once sweat,
in the bed that he wet,
but be damned anyone who would tell.

He somehow maintained this mirage.
To the fools he would soon sabotage.
He promised them things, 
without any strings,
till these lies became a barrage.

No matter as truth was no more.
It was banished as though it a whore.
Conservative thought, 
was easily bought,
with the charlatan king came the store.

He ascended his Washington throne.
As common sense wasn't found in a phone.
Blindsided by hate,
a degenerative trait,
by those quick to cast the first stone.

So where does this leave us now?
Are we sucking pigs to this sow?
Will he smother us all,
as he rolls with each call,
or will he keep us around just to bow?

       Written:  12/26/16


Poem Details | by Jack Ellison |
Categories: fun,

Longfellows



Never professed to be a great poet Just dabbler in the art but my big feet show it Longfellows they are Bigger by far To operate them in public, I need a permit