We call you crush
'Cause you break hearts in a hush
Of your simply pretty voice
I have to bury my feelings I have no choice
Your simple yet beautiful stares make me flush.
When taking your pet to the vet
There's one thing you mustn't forget:
If your vet's a queer,
Keep guard on your rear
(Or a butt-plug would be a good bet).
My dog goes ring-o-hop,
He likes to do hip hop,
He looks so cool,
When he jumps in the pool.
Wearing a stud-type top.
A limerick should always be witty
And dirty and filthy and gritty.
A good one has wit,
And some sex or some shit;
And a clean one is sure to be shitty.
As soon as I get out of bed
My hair makes a mess of my head
I brush it flat and sleek
And, for an hour, its neat
But then it gets frizzy instead
Humidity, dry air, wind, static, hats, and bandanas seem to be conspiring to ruin my hairstyles.
There’s a girl with curly brown hair
Whose sense of humour is so rare,
She leaves people baffled,
Their simple brains addled
As she spouts one-liners with flair.
NaPoWriMo Day 6
Poetry form : Limerick
I tried to draw,
But my sketches are raw
I am imperfect in every way
I used to be good is all I say
Because then I hadn't heard of the word flaw.
My mind was never worried
My words never hurried
To say something worth it
Because my mind at that time was fit
To say, my mouth cleverly flurried.
But when time passes,
All the green grasses
Finally lose their sheen
But they still try to feign
That they are worth to be looked at carefully with glasses.
Just like that
I have changed, it's sad
I have become annoying
But I won't stop even if I'm knowing
That you don't want to talk 'cause I'm talking bad.
There once was a girl on the news
They say she liked to eat shoes
Keep on your feet
When it's time to eat
Or you may be the next victim to lose
A guy and his gal were abed,
when she looked over at him and said,
"The way your penis is bent
is my only lament."
So sideways they did it instead.
© 2012 J.J.W. Coyle
It's girls night out
we've been set free,
from laundry and the dishes.
We won't be back till we see three,
On clocks and in our vision.
Okay, you have to read it with an Irish accent.
Amanda, a crazy collector of Vanda
had such an intense dislike for Aranda
she detested the condom,
when making out in tandem
her outdoor escapade once scared a Panda
Vanda and Aranda are genuses of Orchids
Iago, the self-serving menace
Knew how to play people like tennis
Got inside a guy's head
Now everyone’s dead
Including the poor moor of Venice
Canoodling his significant other,
Our man Henry was loathe to discover:
The lube had run dry,
But rather than cry,
He decided to go get the butter.
© 2015 J.J.W. Coyle