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Ron Conway Jan 9
It started with Covid-19
The likes of which we'd never seen.
We thought we'd be good
but we should have touched wood
as it's turned into something obscene.

So then ****** Hornets arrived
(we thought it was something contrived,
excuse me for thinking)
They told us unblinking
From a horror flick this was derived

He was hoping to win the election
and he just couldn't stand the rejection.
His effort to thwart
was to ***** us in court
but he couldn't maintain an *******.
Hannah Sep 2020
The thing that's annoyingly tragic is,
This cactus has plenty of adjectives,
So why can't I rhyme,
Like I do all the time,
And find myself right where the magic is?

I can't figure out a limerick,
About a cactus and its ******,
God-**** it, it's stumped me,
I've been trying for centuries-
Or has it just been a few minutes?
For practice, I've been writing limericks about random objects. This is what I came up with for a cactus.
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Poetic delicacies,

Chilled haiku sake,

Sautéed clerihew au jus,

Free-range limericks

baked to perfection,

Footle fries,

10/17/2019 - Bon Appétit ! Poetry form: Epulaeryu - A poem that is entirely about food. It has seven lines with a grand total of thirty-three syllables. The meter of the poem is set so that it is, 7/5/7/5/5/3/1.  The poem is supposed to revolve entirely around the dish. Each line is supposed to present information about it. The end of an Epulaeryu poem ends with an exclamation point because the poem itself is about the writer's excitement and enjoyment toward the dish that they are writing about. The final line, the one-syllable word is meant to sum up the feelings that the writer has. The Epulaeryu poem is a way to express these positive feelings about food and is a fun way to do so. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019 - Bon Appétit !
ConnectHook Aug 2019
Jeffrey Epstein is gone. Suicided?
The conclusion is still undecided.
A libidinous god . . .
or a jewel for Mossad?
The tribunal is deeply divided.

Mr Epstein is gone... wonder where.
Is he dead? All conjecture is fair.
Was that him on the slab?
We all hoped we would blab;
his declassified secrets to share.
He used to manage my hedge-funds back in the day ☺
TheB0redP0et Jul 2019
poetic thoughts running free 'n' about,
thinking limericks, my mind's full of doubt.

spooked from behind, as then i called for my cat,
trying to convince, the innocent claws to chase out the rat.

as all he did was pout the fat 'n' lazy, stout...
Rose Mar 2019
I need to say something I’d rather not have to say
But there is a bed I have made and now I must lay
you shouldn’t have to know
But I’m gonna say no
I really hope our friendship won’t have to pay.....
Samantha Feb 2019
There once was a young girl from China
Who found a sprig of Spartina.
She went to the web
as her marsh it was dead
And found it’s from North Carolina.
A native of the east coast of the USA, Spartina alterniflora has been introduced to marshes up and down the west coast as well as to countries such as China. The species has a dense root system that hinders filtration and out-competes native species
Samantha Feb 2019
Down in the Chesapeake Bay
A boy looked down in dismay
He went looking for Blues,
but there was some bad news
The Green Crab had ruined his day.
Samantha Feb 2019
Of all the creatures of old
that fly to escape from the cold
no journey compares
to the trip that is their's
Dendroica striata take gold.
Also known as the blackpoll warbler, their nonstop migration takes them over 2500km from Alaska and northern Canada in the summer to South America and the Caribbean in the winter.

Recently their classification has changed making them part of the Setophaga genus. Their new scientific name is Setophaga striata.
ogdiddynash Aug 2018
no limericks today
none of my dads amusings

no rhyme no tale no sing no complaining

no dancing no pole
vaulting no dashing yards

blues yes harmonica wailing and the
banjo picking me apart no poems

got it all
got it none
got it in my brain
cause soul n’ heart
all longtime surrendered

the wind whips my t-shirt
and what was beneath it gone
never know what piece of me blew away but for sure it was not a ditty
something cute
for the blues chased away all
the limericks and there’s are just an
all gone
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