Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Limericks VII - Naughty, *****, Risque, Absurd

There continue to be modern sequels of the famous "Nantucket" limericks, including this ***** one of mine:

There was a lewd ***** from Nantucket
who intended to *** in a bucket;
but being a man
she missed the **** can
and her rattled john fled, crying: "**** it!"
—Variation on a classic limerick by Michael R. Burch

Here's another take on a golden oldie:

There was an old man from Peru
who dreamed he was eating his shoe.
He awoke one dark night
from a terrible fright
to discover his dream had come true!
—Variation on a classic limerick by Michael R. Burch

Here are some lewd, crude originals:

There once was a multi-pierced Bull,
who found playing hoops far too dull,
so he dated Madonna
but observed, “I don’t wanna
get married . . . the things she might pull!”
—Michael R. Burch

There once was a forward named Rodman
who said to his best man—“No problem!
When I marry Electra,
if the ring costs extra,
just yank a loop right off my ****, man!”
—Michael R. Burch

A formidable pugilist, Mike,
in a fit of pique called his mom “****.”
She frowned ear to ear,
then said, “You listen here,
I can still whip your ****, you dumb tyke!”
—Michael R. Burch

A cross-dressing dancer, “Dee Lite,”
wore gowns luciferously bright
till he washed them one day
the old-fashioned way ...
in bleach. Now he’s “Sister Off-White.”
—Michael R. Burch

There once was a bubbly bartender,
a transvestite who went on a ******.
“So I cut myself off,”
she cried with a sob,
“There’s the evidence, there in the blender!”
—Michael R. Burch

Our president’s *** life—atrocious.
Asian markets are all hocus-pocus.
Politics—a shell game.
My brief moment of fame—
flashed by before Oprah could notice.
—Michael R. Burch

Bill Clinton's a man we admire;
his opinion polls soar ever higher.
He gets much more flack
for a Big Mac attack
than for his ****** high-wire.
—Michael R. Burch

There is a new term, “Clintonian,”
which means, “Stop your naggin’ and moanin’.
He’s only a man
doing all that he can
to put kneepads in the Smithsonian.!”
—Michael R. Burch

Low-T Hell
by Michael R. Burch

I’m living in low-T hell ...
My get-up has gone: Farewell!
I need to write checks
if I want to have ***,
and my love life depends on a gel!

Grave Offense I

Is Ogden Nash gnashing his teeth,
upside-down in his grave, full of grief
that the term “limerick”
has been plagiarized? Quick—
dial 9-1-1; get the police!
—Michael R. Burch

Grave Offense II

Is Ogden Nash gnashing his teeth,
upside-down in his grave, full of grief
that his wit and his art
share this name I impart
to my “limerick?” Am I a thief?
—Michael R. Burch

Ghostbusters!

Is Ogden Nash gnashing his teeth?
Is his ghost rolling ’round in wild grief
that the Post would make crimes
of his “imperfect” rhymes?
Call Ripley’s—it stretches belief!
—Michael R. Burch

NOTE: The Washington Post in all its great wisdom would ban Ogden Nash’s imperfect rhymes from its limerick contests!

Keywords/Tags: limerick, nonsense, light, humor, humorous, ***, naughty, risque, lewd, *****, ******
Poetic T Feb 2020
Let me be
     The soup,

That dampens
       Your croutons.
Poetic T Feb 2020
When the jigsaw
had only two pieces
     to make a picture

and there were three?

You'll try put it in any hole it fits in..
Poetic T Jan 2020
Little lights staring forth,
   slightly glazed in need
of a gentle buffering.
   Always seeing where red
was going, although when
it was night his beams
  not focused more
                                  a blur.

But muddy features showed
   this little tractor wasn't
scared of hard work.
   In fact his tires in need
of a clean, as tracks left behind
where he'd travelled forth.


Looking behind you could see
which direction red had come
from, but they weren't random.
If you got a little height you could
make out little pictures drawn in
                   tire treaded dirt.

A regular little artist was red,
   Now he was little, so sometimes
red would get in mischief.
Found on the grass no tracks?
Just a do not touch sign on the
                                               floor.

But there were no muddy treads,
   No flowers crushed before his path.
So how did little red get on the grass,
found sleepily slumbering his little
                           exhaust snoring away.

"Red, wake up,

As he stretched a little pump
                 came out his exhaust,

"Whoops,
               as he blushed a slightly darker
          hue of  red than before.

"What you doing on the grass red?

I don't know, I must have sleep wheeled
    here, its so much soft than the cobbles
I sleep on in the shed.

But there are no tracks, I must have tip tired toed,
  so not to wake you up.
                       I knocked over the sign,
And felt how comfortable it was.

The farmer knew he'd accidently
                              told him the truth.
Red was only little after all.
  Ok would you like to sleep under the
stars on a field of grass from now on.

"Oh yes please, its so soft and comfy
          on my tires,

The farmer smiled come on red,
                  as he lifted him off the grass gently
so not to crush the flowers.
Red drove at his side, tire tracks following
behind as he drove through puddles
         splashing the farmer as he walked on.
Poetic T Jan 2020
While you were playing FIFA
I was scoring with you mum.
Could hear you through the wall,
as I came in her net, I'd home
goaled in her just for fun.

But it wasn't to disrespect you,
I never wanted to hurt anyone.
Your dad came home when you
were at collage, and I told him
shut the door and sit in the corner
               till I'd finished his wife off.

See he didn't shout or run his mouth
off, cos I knew who he'd been doing
behind her back,
                    none other than my mum.

Now my dads a good man and he loves
my mum, now I'm not making excuses
for her but your dad knew we were happy
and played the unloved man
                   that just needed love.

Well your dad thought she had morning
breath, but na, she's taken my length after
I off loaded in her ***.

But I stayed and watched as your pops  
kissed her passionately.
Dang that must have been a salty kiss
          breath like the sea with raw sewage
and a hint of peppered sweetcorn.

            Now this isn't about you,
this is about men should respect another's
mum, ok I didn't yours, but she knew
that I was a length and your dad was just
             a millimetre short stop.

And I always hit her spot, so god knows
what my mum
                      saw in this old punk.  


After that day, he never did any odd jobs
around my house, and I confided in my
mother that I knew and that I didn't want
anything, I wasn't telling dad. and she cried
and said it was only a kiss and only once.

But she hadn't instigated it, and she'd been
a little drunk. But I saw him ******* coming
out the bedroom sweating? Ye he'd been doing
some DIY, why what have you done.

Nothing Ma, I just told him he wasn't welcome
anymore, are you going around there's again?
Na mom, I'd played a game done to many home
goals, and they suddenly moved on.
   I'll miss my friend but I'll deffo miss his mom.
Styles Jan 2020
Let me ****** you with my words
until you are infatuated with my poetry
confuse it with me
until I can punctuate you
like an apostrophe
Jenish Jan 2020
Again I barred her
From peeping in my blanket-  
Winter is naughty
Àŧùl Nov 2019
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To make out in seclusion
Coz no water is on the peak
Penetrated deeper inside
Stuck in captivus
Ov'r the hilltop
Into the horizon after
My HP Poem #1801
©Atul Kaushal
Poetic T Sep 2019
What can I say I'm cheap,
I couldn't afford a 69 so I went
for the cheaper 59, 10% off.
      
                      Ye off the end result.


She was like tongue me deeper,
                    and she blew me.

Not like a vacuum hose,
more like blowing a birthday
                        candle out.

I'm moaning, she's coming.
Then a gust of wind in my face.

What can I say, she called me cheap!
And you get what you paid for,
I don't know why but my ***** are singed.....

To realistic for my liking that *******.
Tea Aug 2019
17:
When he's gone, I'm not well...
I wonder where is that protective shell?
I wonder where he is...
I wonder when will he ever read this?
I hope I will survive until he comes back...
I know it is my best friend that I lack...
Without him, I'll die...
Right now I want to cry...
But my tears may not flow...
I just can't let it happen right now...
It's hard to wait...
It is getting late...
But I can't stop thinking of my one friend...
I wonder when this eve will come to an end?

18:
Probably at midnight...
I will give my sister a fright...
She will scream high...
As she thinks she's gonna die...
I will laugh very mercilessly...
Then she will cry helplessly...
And when I dissappear...
I am someone to fear...
For my stubbornness goes beyond death itself...
My evilness is in great wealth...
So beware...
I'm there...
When I wrote this rhyme I was rather bored and completely went off subject in the end. I decided to make it two separate rhymes.
Next page