Limerick Poems About School | School Limerick Poems
Poem Details | by Andrea Dietrich |
Categories: humorous,

Back to Traffic School

Before yellow changes to red,
there’s only one thing in my head.
It’s to get through that light
for my time is so tight.
On the pedal my foot becomes lead!

But I did not judge too well today,
for that light was a tad far away.
Oh, why didn’t I stop?
If I’d just seen the cop,
I’d be richer with no fine to pay.

So to traffic school soon I will go,
like I do every three years or so
till the next time I’m caught.
We old dogs can’t be taught!
Wipe our slates- traffic school’s just for show!


Note: Traffic school is a 2 hour class that some Americans pay extra money for just to avoid a raise in their insurance rates when they get a traffic ticketI stupidly did not do traffic school last time I got caught by a cop, so for sure, I have to do it THIS timeThis limerick story was inspired by Jan's limerick about me!


Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: car, for her, humorous,

SPEEDY GONZALEZ - FOR ANDREA

Andrea was late - drove at the speed of light Traffic cops chased her - she got such a fright The cop got out his book Gave her a stern look She’s off to traffic school so she now gets it right Posted with full permission of Andrea (speedy) Dietrich 2nd April 2015


Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: body, humorous,

YEUK UPDATED - COLLABORATION WITH ROB BETTRIDGE

My sister Susie loved picking her nose To her chagrin her little finger froze It was stuck so far Doc used a crowbar Finger up nose - not a ladylike pose! Our Mother, in a fit of Pique At Susie's antics with her Beak Said, "Right my girl" And in a whirl Grounded Susie for a Week Resenting her fate, in bed Rebellion sparked inside her head When all were asleep She'd dress and creep Though the window and escape instead A branch near her window hung Which to its foliage she clung The branch was weak And with a shriek She fell into a pile of Dung The house woke up only to find Poor Susie in a dreadful Bind She looked quite a mess In her state of distress That our Mother went out of her mind "A School for young Ladies, I'll choose" One, her wildness, I hope will defuse And instil, at a pace, Deportment and Grace To refine the coarse ways of our Suz' Packed off to be 'Finished' she went Determined to never repent Despite all opinions It's just like 'St Trinians' And for Susie, was quite an event Susie boarded at ‘Saint Eloise’ It was there she got covered in fleas Once she dived in a ditch To be rid of that itch Oh, you should see the state of her knees! When in the first deportment class Poor Susie fell straight on her ‘ass’ When she exposed her behind The other girls were unkind So Susie began passing gas They had to open the windows and doors Crawl about and move on all fours To get rid of the smell That came straight from hell Staff told ‘Susie’ no more encores! Her Classmates all thought it a Hoot When she lit the gas that she'd shoot She then vented a Storm That Blew up her Dorm Which got our poor Susie the Boot She believed she should never have gone From the ones she depended upon With her Mission, complete (And a Cork placed, discreet) Susie's Home where she'll always belong. 20th January 2016 Collaboration J Allison and R Bettridge


Poem Details | by Andrea Dietrich |
Categories: writing,

My Cousin Chaos

A cousin named Chaos have I (he’s not actually my cousinHe’s like my aunt’s stepson, but I guess I can still call him a cousin, right?)

There’s nothing that he will not try (like the day he let all the chickens loose from the coop and they were running like chickens with their heads cut offIsn’t that an expression or something? Chaos is crazy like those chickens were)

Since he follows no rule (He laughs at me because I try to write perfectly metered limericks and he thinks everyone should just write free and BE free in all they do.)

He got kicked out of school (it was so funnyHe set off the fire alarm and all the kids were running every which way, much like those chickens he let loose in his barnyardNow he is saying he wants to become an anarchist.)

So to anarchy school he’ll apply!

Gosh, he’s rightThis limerick sucksIt’s much more fun having no restrictions, just letting my thoughts go anywhere I want them to take me, kind of like stream of consciousness writing or somethingToo bad I can’t be all surreal-like, then I might make it into the newfangled modern poetry magazinesMost people don’t even consider limericks to be real poemsDANG it, I feel another one coming on.

Cousin Chaos, I now do hear tell
That you’ve found a new school, so learn well
Your anarchy ways.
In limerick phase
I’ll be stuck while you give people hell.

CrapEven trying to write like Chaos, I just can’t do itI just keep conforming to rules of poetry forms like limerickI just know my cousin will be laughing his chicken head off when he reads thisYeah, the old chicken motif againAlways relating things togetherSo much for Chaos! I’m outta here.

Written chaotically last week sometime for contest of same name


Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: fantasy, for her, fun,

ANY POEM FOR PD

Oh PD Linda’s a wily sly fox She wants us to think outside the box But I should be in bed Rest my poor aching head I have joined the school of hard knocks I can’t think of a pesky line to write For Linda’s entertainment and delight But my muse has now flown My poor brain's turned to stone Will someone help me with my plight? Oh what on earth am I going to do - I wish that we had a new local zoo I’d see a cute unicorn That was recently born Linda - I’ll think of a poem for you! Any poem #38 sponsored by PD 03~31~16


Poem Details | by Kathleen Kroll |
Categories: judgement, silly,

The Lowly Turnip

The lowly turnip
Earthy, fleshy
Roots falling from its eyes
Fed to  livestock
One of God’s root crops
Yet deemed  untasty
By most palates 

Carrots and potatoes
Receive accolades
Carrots in orange party dress
So crunchy and sweet 
Fit in the school child’s lunch box
Potatoes in russet  brown
Mashed, fried and frittered
Prized alongside McDonalds and Kentucky Fried

Do not despair, my friend, 
Not all root crops
Are valued similarly
Said the rutabaga disparagingly


Poem Details | by cheryl hoffman |
Categories: childhood, food, humor,

My Childhood Cereal

Waking up for school was hard enough,
still half asleep not ready for the bus,
breakfast on the dot,
snap, crackle and pop,
noisy Rice Krispy's helping us wake up.






12-5-16


Poem Details | by mike dailey |
Categories: adventure, nature, sportsfishing,

Fishing Limerick

This fisherman, we’ll just call Mike
Was fishing for Great Northern Pike
He would throw in his line
But time after time
It came back with nothing he’d like

When I was a wee little lad
I went out fishing with dad
I caught a big trout
And was dancing about
When he threw him back in I got mad

I said Dad why did you let him go
I could take him to school don't you know
Now I just can't conceive
That my friends will believe
If I haven't got something to show


Contest:  Limericks about fishing -3rd place finish
By: Mdailey


Poem Details | by Chris Matt |
Categories: school, sports

High School Football-Favorite Sport

Under the lights on Friday night.
High school football starting to ignite.
Merciless to everyone.
This is war, not for fun.
Winning state is a beautiful sight.


Poem Details | by Richard Breese |
Categories: abuse, bullying, funny, giggle,

Replacement Teacher

There once was a teacher from Crete
Whose foot size was very petite,
Well her students did plot
And to high school they brought,
Some shoes for oversize feet.


Poem Details | by Poet Destroyer A |
Categories: confusion, lifewords, me, world,

Slam Hurts!!!!!....

                 Slammed by
Mother...President...Teacher...Poet...&...Form


            A MOTHERS LOVE
Mother always called me a lousy kid, with a shove
I was the only kid she wanted to get rid of
On my head she always smacked me hard.
She would always slam me calling  me a retard
My mother gave me the best slamming love.

((( my mother the best slammer there ever was)))
_______________________________________________
           WE ARE THE WORLD
Slam back at any country, at any given event
I feel bad for any so called President.
"WE THE PEOPLE" the Republic and the Democrat.
Slamming each other talking crap
In a world full of slam and argument.

((( The world toughest fight is slam not war )))
_______________________________________________                 
              TEACHERS PET
Our teachers kept on and on how we where wrong with a fuzz.
She just stood there and slammed each and everyone of us.
Making us write an essay on broken rules.
Kept us all after school calling us stupid fools
Who knew teachers where allowed to slam and cuss?

((( Teachers words of slam can ruin any future )))
______________________________________________
             ROAD BLOCK
Have you ever heard of a poet blocker.
All they are is a slam stocker
They over abuse their blocking right.
Trying to make other poets fight.
Always trying to slam a point across, like a mocker.

((( Hating against any form of poetry is a slam it self )))
_____________________________________________
            JUDGING CONTEST
Can you guess that slam is just a risky business
Picking out the best slam words from the rest.
Testing out a form we don't know how to let it  flow.
Darn the soup for putting slam on the box below.
Even the best have join my slamming contest.

((( Thank you Soup for SLAMMING us with your A-Z list-form)))
_____________________________________________


Poem Details | by Sandra Haight |
Categories: education, life, wisdom,

School Of Hard Knocks


School of Hard Knocks


We all went to school in the past

Knew all of the answers when asked

But time does go by

Kissed knowledge good-bye

Now smarter with life we've amassed!


© Sandra MHaight 2015 
   All Rights Reserved


~3rd Place~
Contest: Famous Einstein Quotes
Sponsor: John Freeman
Judged: 04/30/2015

_________________________________

Quote:  Albert Einstein

"Education is what remains after
one has forgotten everything
he learned in school."


.


Poem Details | by Andrea Dietrich |
Categories: funny, love, language, language,

Multilingual in Love

Did you hear about Don? What a guy! On the pretty gals he had his eye. But he had zero chance with them allAt romance he kept messing up, for he was shy. In a language school Don then enrolled where he learned words of love, I am told. Of cute *senoritas he’d ask for *besitas. His tongue was becoming quite bold! The language of his newest dear he’d be whispering into her ear: With “Jet’aime,” “Querido,” “Kuss mich” or “Ti amo” - Through all Europe he roamed without fear. With his sweet words, he’d go on and on till he tired of a girl and be gone. And that’s how a guy named Don, once so shy, is now known as a famous *Don Juan. *senoritas = young ladies (in Spanish) *besitas = little kisses (in Spanish) *Jet'aime = I love you (in French) *Querido = My dear (in Spanish) *Kuss mich = Kiss me (in German) *Ti amo = "I love you (in Italian) *Don Juan= name for a womanizer (Spanish/English) For Debbie Guzzi's Bi-Lingual Poetry Contest


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 Earl Schumacker |
Categories: crazy, education, fun, society,

Gun Control

            Gun Control

There once was a boy called Bum

Who shaped his finger in school like a gun

They told him he failed

Threw him in jail

His education is over and done


Poem Details | by Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick |
Categories: nature

A Lonely Owl

Once long ago on a school visit to the zoo
My little one had just begun elementary school
High up on a tree branch sat a lonely owl
With his huge eyes shut, he could pass for any old fowl
Suddenly, he opened them and questioned, “Who? Who?”
 


Poem Details | by Elton Camp |
Categories: sports, football, time,

It's Iron Bowl Time in Alabama

It’s Iron Bowl Time in Alabama

By Elton Camp

Watching football may be okay

Even following it, play-by-play 

However, I say, “Ho, hum”

Don’t care about the outcome

For I will use my time another way



(For readers outside Alabama, this refers to the extreme fanaticism so often seen here about the football teams of the University of Alabama and Auburn University People who have attended neither school get all upset over it and tend to build their lives around the fortunes of the two teams I think that’s going way too far about a dangerous child’s game.)



Poem Details | by Quentin Ehlinger |
Categories: humorous,

The Hunt

In grammar school the boys had fun
Even though not one had a gun
They'd stalk a girl
Trying to shoot squirrel
But not one ever even saw one


Poem Details | by DrJim Martin |
Categories: humorous,

The Hookie, Cookie, Rookie

The Hooky, Cookie, Rookie
DrJames EMartin
©January, 2014

They say his nick-name is “Cookie.”
From school he’d often play hooky.
He was no fool,
Was actually quite cool,
It is evident he was no rookie.


Poem Details | by Nyonglema Pisoh |
Categories: africa, hate, history, home,

The Grass is Greener

We’re not called upon to choose anything we live through;
Neither parent nor sibling nor school nor form of sinew;
Neither colour of hair or eye or skin,
Nor love or hate, nor loss or gain
Nor opportunities nor whence we comeSo much is true.

But as much as this truth I hold as true as sunlight,
I know that painful times will time to time alight
When with bitter phlegm you curse
The earth where you breathed first
And wish your day of birth were scratched by He with might.

I knowSame feelings have plagued my adult soul
And the wish for better home to make each day whole
Has been dashed by shameful news,
Where Hope, seeing Hitler, and 94’s Hutus,
Needs to hide its youth to stall the death toll.

But amidst pain, hate and bottled despair rife
There’s the rare love, innocent and hardly grasping to life.
For here, we can give our all
When we choose to keep you from a fall.
We really do it: humble, loving…just like the Lord’s life.

Yes, it’s easier to perceive the weeds in one’s garden
For the pastures beyond gleam in our myopia, hiding their burden.
And seeing that weed can cast a shadow
On all that’s sweet, but cause much ado
About the bitter parts, and it day by day your heart will harden.

Think of the evening breeze on the night grill,
Feeding the flames of a delicious family fish meal.
Think of hitting the unadulterated
Lands of hills where ancient rivers percolated
And happy goats skip, and cattle graze and one can feel

Life whizzing through rustling leaves of dancing old tree or reed,
Playing the music our ancestors learned to read,
Making your lungs touch their purpose,
Dazzling your eyes like a Jabbawockeez pose,
The music we’ve forgotten as we focus on some RSS feed.

Think of the youths wise with tradition re-enacting solemnly
The dances and music handed down from before when Ptolemy
Phrased ancient philosophical data,
To the time of the expansive empire of Sundiatta
Beads stomping the dust frantically in musical poetry.

Picture the pure darkness which crowds the silent night air,
Unveiling the marvellous dotted and scattered there
In the moonlit heavenly canvas,
Watching us from light years past,
And we fascinated by the sparkling magic they share.

So to sum it all up, I know it cannot be perfect,
And sometimes I rant and make massive graffiti of its defects,
But this home my parents chose
Still draws my spirit close,
For the bond is deeper, far deeper than human senses can detect.

(c) Nyonglema


Poem Details | by Paul Schneiter |
Categories: humor,

Unharnessed

 A school teacher named Miss Shaw
Though well-endowed wore no bra.
Things slipped and jiggled
Bounced and wiggled 
Pupils are still awed by what they saw.


Poem Details | by mostafa zaki |
Categories: for children,

Why school is not cool

At 6 AM the alarm clock screams interrupted from beautiful dreams A frowning teacher screaming in your face shouts with anger and says "you're a disgrace" no free time at home , there is homework to do teachers inventing new ways to torture you at the end of the day ,if you learned nothing you're a fool this is why a school is not cool
BY: Mostafa Zaki 8 line challenge poem 10/10/2011


Poem Details | by bradley smith |
Categories: life, nostalgia, school, school,

courage

The music coarses through my veins
As i run down the street
i don't need to look back 
to hear the pounding of the feet

My mind races as i sprint
my lungs struggling to continue
but i hear death come closer
not knowing what to do

i see the glint of metal
as he races after me
not fighting for his honor
it is just blood he wants to see

is this how a hero dies, i ask myself boldly
is this what happens when you refuse to back down
my heart starts to fail, my feet start to slow
with barely enough energy, to turn myself around

All i ever did
was stand up to that school bully
and it may have been the last thing i do
i now understand quite fully

if only i had stepped down
let him spit and walk away
instead, i had to open my mouth
and so the consequences i must now pay

i muster up the courage
puff out my chest and turn 
but instead of feeling steel
i feel a steady burn

for in my frantic flight
i must have stepped down wrong
for after everything I'd done
i knew that it was sprung

i fall down to the pavement
fearing the very end
that school bully who chose to chase me
would soon learn to comprehend

that i stood up for myself
and would not back down now
i fought back the tears
and stood without a sound

i waited and waited and waited
for the bully to fly around the block
i sat back down and teared up,
as i yanked away the sock

the pain that radiated shot
through my leg and through my bones
anyone one could tell 
from the screeching of my tone

i hobbled to the bus stop
picking out the broken glass
the blood hit the ground
and the ground hit my ass

i sat there in my tears
pondering a lie to tell
one that told nothing of my flight
and one that i could sell

i came home late that night
with relief my mother slept
i hobbled to my bed
and passed out as i wept



Poem Details | by Rhea Daniel Dear |
Categories: school,

My, My, What the Sickens

The story of school starting is here
It began with a bell and a cheer
Bob brought a talking chicken
My, my, what the sickens
Harridan Teacher silenced them with fear


Poem Details | by Charles Sides |
Categories: funny, high school,

February Funny Bone

I once met a guy by the name of Mort
By his record he must be very smart
At five, High School complete
College at six; a feat
A leaper; birthdays are four years apart

Submitted by Charles Sides


Poem Details | by T.A. Skyles-Theoklapoet |
Categories: sports

SOONER NATION

The Oklahoma Sooners are my favorite team.
  There school colors are crimson and cream.

  They can run a ball and score real high.
    Make the other team fumble and cry.

             Yeah Boomer Sooners.
                              Teresa Skyles

Entered in Royal Trevino's"My favorite sports limerick"contest


Poem Details | by kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr |
Categories: adventure, books, career,

NEW SCHOOL NEW PALS

soon be time again
meet new friends
as you check in
for new year 
some dress as a bear
some will call al and hal
be girls and boys
THE NEW SCHOOL NEW PALS


Poem Details | by bradley smith |
Categories: hope, imagination, school, dream,

Hunger

Everyone thinks since i smile
that everything is good
no one knows its been a while
since i last had good food

I live in a good neighborhood
My neighbors, all quite wealthy
just snacking when i could
and trying to stay healthy

everytime you go to school
your stomach starts to rumble
always looking like a fool
when you trip and stumble.

i know what its like to feel sick
the fuzz that passes through your brain
people acting like a prick
not knowing your in pain.

i go to school like normal
i tell no one of my issues
no need to make it formal
i just grab a few more tissues.

you may not even notice me
im just your everyday dumb teen
you cant see what i see
or know where i have been.

i go to school each day
and go to work each night
working for my pay
so i can grab another bite.

we go to homeless dinners
and i feel my heart clench tight
not feeling like the winner
should i really have to fight?

so now i lay my head
and dream of a full tummy
and as i lay in bed
i dream of yummy yummies.










Poem Details | by Joshua Lacey |
Categories: life

School-Time!

Going to school is so much fun
But can't wait until homework is done!
For every class hope for an "A"
And on the honor roll:  Hip-hip-hooray!
In the game of life I can say I've won!


Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: anti bullying, body, children,

EAR EAR

Poor Charlie came home from school in tears He’d been teased about his huge jug ears His mum gave him a big kiss Said I wont tolerate this For the teasing had gone on for years The kids called him names like Dumbo For his huge ears hung down so low The doctor agreed There was a great need For these enormous ears to go Soon an operation was performed Charlie’s huge ears have now been transformed Now small and petite They look really neat His new lug holes can never be scorned 08~03~16


Poem Details | by T Wignesan |
Categories: philosophy,

Limerick: Once Professors of Philosophy

Limerick: Once Professors of Philosophy

Once Professors of Philosophy
Came together to solve human folly
Each defended his birth
In his school of thought’s worth
So with fisticuffs they split hairs to flee!

© TWignesan – Paris, 2013


Poem Details | by benjamin grimm |
Categories: angst, funny, life, me,

BURNT

Sandra was ready to PLAY
but she told me to go far AWAY
A beauty school QUEEN
would be embarrassed to be SEEN

"You're just not my type,Rodger...if ya know what I MEAN?!"

Ok..so I am not quite the STUD
But at least i'm no Elmer FUDD
Nerds hate to be picked out
however,they are no stick in the MUD

She cherishes RICK
Even though he acts like a -ICK
His Abs are lean and MEAN
A Tom Selleck lookalike MACHINE

They like to blow FACE
and spray me with her can of MACE
This four-eyed man with his pocket protector
Just got burnt by Society's perfect RACE

A chump out of SCHOOL
He is forever a FOOL
The Lasses want tight ASSES
Not a simpleton who can't help but DROOL

The world can kick THEE
Middle-class bullies  still pick on ME
I only answer to the man(upstairs)
He's the only one to set me FREE


Poem Details | by DrJim Martin |
Categories: humor,

The Lurner

The Lurner
DrJames EMartin
©January, 2014

He went to school to lurn
So that much money he could earn.
He palyed too much
He was out of touch
I guess, to smarts, he would not turn.


Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Milk and Honey

Milk and Honey

Heard that they had a big rehearsal
Graduated from Trump School Universal
We had handed him all of our money
He then collected it like milk and honey
Now we can't do anything that is useful.

How sad.

Jim Horn


Poem Details | by Robert Pettit |
Categories: life, science,

Nine Months Gestation

Anyone from LA to New York knows babies are not brought by the stork. It takes nine months gestation for a new generation. Didn’t you learn that in school you dork?


Poem Details | by Robert Pettit |
Categories: family, funny, nature,

The Birds and the Bees

Anyone from LA to New York
knows babies are not brought by the stork.
It takes nine months gestation
for a new generation.
Didn’t you learn that in school you dork?

Robert Pettit for Royal Trevino's The Birds and the Bees contest


Poem Details | by Kelsey Bailey |
Categories: education, school,

School

In crowded classrooms kids would sit reading from books and listening to teachers watching the clock, waiting for two when the bell would ring and the school would look like a zoo


Poem Details | by Jerome Malenfant |
Categories: humorous,

A bright young fellow named Ernest

A bright young fellow named Ernest
Went to med school to be an internist.
  But the sight of insides
  Gave him really bad vibes,
So he took up accounting in earnest.

A shifty young lawyer named Stan
Came up with a devious plan
   To avoid paying taxes
   Through complex finances,
But was told that his plan wouldn't stand.

A beginner in fencing named Perry
Was finding that swordplay was scary.
   "Not to belabor
    But it's defective, my saber!
It thrusts but refuses to parry!"

An anemic young lady named Madeline 
Became increasingly maudlin
   When she came to discover
   That her boyfriend and lover  
Would sleep through the day in his coffin.

A lady tourist named Lisa
Fell from the Tower of Pisa.
   On the way down
   She thought thoughts profound
And remembered to renew her visa.

A deadbeat gambler named Owen
Ran into the guys he was owing
   Who, with style and with ease,
   Broke both his knees,
After asking him, "Hey, how's it going?"

A big rock-and-roll star was Ben,
But now just a 90's has-been.
   The girls and their aunties 
   Would throw him their panties,
But now no more groupies has Ben.


("What's in a name" contest entry)


Poem Details | by RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY |
Categories: fun,

Sullivan in Limerick

Sullivan heard the professor's talks
Nodded his head and reached for the woks
The Quantum Theory
Is tomato puree
He learnt this in the school of hard knocks











Sullivan is my pet ghost


Poem Details | by Anisha Dutta |
Categories: appreciation, bird,

Feeding The Ducklings

                 Feeding The Ducklings

      While picking up my little daughter from school
       We were to follow the path passing a pool,
             only to watch ducks and ducklings
             swimming, playing, gaily giggling.
      Blowing breeze over water was soothing and cool.

     My child was to throw bread-piece from pocket
        or to hit tiny fruits with her racket 
        to drop those and float on water surface.
      Flock of ducklings swam on rapid race
   to swallow floating fruits on prompt attempt.

     On her primary school days that was a routine.
      Feeding of ducklings was funny and fine.
         Merry ducklings always follow duck
         Amusing cheerful calls ‘Quack-Quack’.
      A sweet remembrance of my child and mine.

    05/12/16

                  

 


Poem Details | by Rob Bettridge |
Categories: humorous,

'YEUK' UPDATED - Updated collaboration with JAN ALLISON

 

(What Susie Did) My sister Susie loved picking her nose To her chagrin her little finger froze It was stuck so far Doc used a crowbar Finger up nose - not a ladylike pose! Our Mother, in a fit of Pique At Susie's antics with her Beak Said, "Right my girl" And in a whirl Grounded Susie for a Week Resenting her fate, in bed Rebellion sparked inside her head When all were asleep She'd dress and creep Though the window and escape instead A branch near her window hung Which to its foliage she clung The branch was weak And with a shriek She fell into a pile of Dung The house woke up only to find Poor Susie in a dreadful Bind She looked quite a mess In her state of distress That our Mother went out of her mind "A School for young Ladies, I'll choose" One, her wildness, I hope will defuse And instil, at a pace, Deportment and Grace To refine the coarse ways of our Suz' Packed off to be 'Finished' she went Determined to never repent Despite all opinions It's just like 'St Trinians' And for Susie, was quite an event Susie boarded at ‘Saint Eloise’ It was there she got covered in fleas Once she dived in a ditch To be rid of that itch Oh, you should see the state of her knees! When in the first deportment class Poor Susie fell straight on her ‘ass’ When she exposed her behind The other girls were unkind So Susie began passing gas They had to open the windows and doors Crawl about and move on all fours To get rid of the smell That came straight from hell Staff told ‘Susie’ no more encores! Her Classmates all thought it a Hoot When she lit the gas that she'd shoot She then vented a Storm That Blew up her Dorm Which got our poor Susie the Boot She believed she should never have gone From the ones she depended upon With her Mission, complete (And a Cork placed, discreet) Susie's Home where she'll always belong. (Collaboration with Jan Allison)


Poem Details | by Paul Schneiter |
Categories: humor, time,

Halftime

Clyde Stanson sought to repair clocks
he labored in school of hard knocks.
Getting them to tick
was a simple trick.
But they wouldn't produce any tocks.


Poem Details | by Terry O'Leary |
Categories: humorous, political,

Lotsa Limericks--- Politicians Per Verse

Our prez is now Donald J Trump
Who has promised to clean out the sump
      Well he's certainly no wussy
      When groping a pussy
What more to expect from a gump?

In charge of the Vice, Michael Pence
Said some things that embrace little sense,
       "Global warming's a myth"
       But's now taking the fifth
In attempting to straddle the fence

We all recall general Flynn
Put in charge of security spin 
      A trained atomiser
      No more Trump's advisor -
His deal with the devil's his sin

The billionaire Betsy Devos
Making plans for a school albatross
      Hating free education 
      Backs private castration
And kids will be bearing her Cross.

The Congress approved Jeff BSessions
Ignoring his racist obsessions
      He seemingly cares
      More for foreign affairs
While forgiving Klan's toxic transgressions.

Chief strategist Stephen KBannon
Develops the Great Again Canon:
      The Goldman Sachs Bankster
      Turned yellow rag gangster
Flings crap from the New Order cannon

Says EPA ruler Scott Pruitt 
"Instead of dry facts, we intuit..."
      (His work as denier
      Keeps profits much higher) 
"..If everything dies, well, just screw it"

The war whoops of Mad Doggy Mattis
Awaken the death apparatus
      With boundless expense
      For a doomsday defence -
Armageddon administered gratis

The magnates no longer need lobby
Or fight regulations thought snobby -
       Now set in the saddle 
      They're herding the cattle
And pulling the strings as a hobby

Now the Don can start wielding the axes
Truncating the tariffs and taxes
      The Mafia boss
      Is dismissing the dross
And poverty's pain as it waxes


Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy, anxiety,

Longest Limerick I Ever Wrote

Had Been Blind To the Fact

He flew for a long way after taking wing,
To find a school so he could learn to sing;
When he did we all laughed and laughed
Heard him say the class was over-staffed
Were blind to fact pupils forgot to bring.

What other things to can we become blind, 
Must have been those that we left behind;
Turns out we never knew anything at all
Thing that most all of them did appall 
To every fact we had become resigned.

After a lot of and so much contemplation
We completely accepted his resignation
A loser the likes of never again will see
That was pure stupidity to you and me
Became President with our indignation.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet