Tag Archives: #limerick

Fork – a Limerick

I never yet ate with a fork,

which makes me some kind of a dork,

a spoon does suffice

for the drinking of ice,

and a knife for the slicing of cork.

When life is a bit dull…

If life is a bit dull

in Yeovil or Hull

then write a Limerick

about Jethro Tull

and his agrarian invention of the seed drill.

Sorry, to disappoint you,

that was not that Limerick,

as you might well tell,

because I am like Billy, idle,

without a rebel yell,

crying for ‘More, more, more!’

L is for Limerick #NaPoWriMo2021 – Day 4

There once was a boat made in Éire,

In the boatyard of a fine city, there;

a craft of two knots,

that was covered in spots,

like a slow boat with Chinese Malaria.

Ronan Keating went to Limerick

Ronan Keating gave up eating,

and only drank fine wine;

when six days passed

he drank his last

and pronounced the word ‘divine!’

The Poetry Fanatic

My brother is a poetry fanatic

And as such we keep him locked in the attic;

at age six, he was struck with the curse

of quoting blank verse,

and becoming all amateurs dramatic.

A Lady from Bracknell – Limerick

There once was a Lady from Bracknell

Who ate two hundredweight of Mint Cracknel

She liked it so much

That she ate all she did touch;

But, soon heard the sound of her

death knell.

“A death knell!”

Storm Dennis Limerick

There was a big storm they named Dennis,

Which made it quite hard to play tennis:

When blowing a gale,

With wind, rain and hail,

it resembled a street walk in Venice.

‘The Diminishment of Truth’ – a Sequence #NationalPoetryDay, #NPD

This sequence of poems I have called, ‘The Diminishment of TRUTH’

“TRUTH Poem”


is wasted on the youth;

“Where is your proof?”

you ask.

“How uncouth!”

I respond,

“My truth

may not be your truth –

for I am long in the tooth

and you…

are young…

and inexperienced…

and have limbs that don’t creak.


of which I speak,

is for the older person,

the bolder person,

the ‘the days are getting colder’ person.


Or her.

Or them.

Or it.


Not sure about that bit –

I may have to edit

a lit-

A little bird once told me

that I was worth two bushes…

that was handy advice

at the time;

though I never wrote about it

in a rhyme.

I may have misremembered that…

it could have been a cat.

As T. S. Eliot once said:

‘A book is like the colour red’

or maybe it was something else

that he said.

Truth be told,

I’m growing old.

Older by the second,

and my truth is not

all that it shaped up to be…

am I fecund?


I hadn’t the foggiest what that word meant…

until I looked it up.

Does that make me a mug?

Or a cup?


“TRUTH Limerick”

There once was an abstract concept called TRUTH,

that was given to all in their youth

but, the the truth of it is

TRUTH is all bubbles and fizz,

and LIES are the gin and vermouth.


“TRUTH Haiku”

TRUTh is just a word…

National Poetry Day

proposed as a prompt.


“TRUTH Couplet”

A couplet were walking their dogma one day,

TRUtH be told, they never did, but they may.


“TRUTH in a Single-Line”

TRUTH is the luxury of youth.

And a ‘Parting Shot Across The Bows’:



and yet,

nothing at all.

One Day in Limerick…

One Day in Limerick…

There was an old woman who did,

though what she did she always kept hid,

she brushed under carpets,

bought fruit at fruit markets,

and she’d polish the bedsheets, God forbid.

Some more on this woman who did;

she secretly kept some things hid;

she was a spy for the Russians,

kept house for the Prussians;

she walked a thin line, yes, she did.

Furthermore, about this woman who did;

she was caught out when trying to bid

for some documents old,

that she wanted to hold

and pass to her contact, Leonid.

Finally, on this woman who did;

she was caught by a man in Madrid;

he was a double, you know

agent So-and-So-So;

who went by the code name of Syd.

The happy / sad Bat Limerick

The happy / sad Bat Limerick

There once was a bat, upside down

whose smile was perceived as a frown;

she now cries as she hangs,

people shy from her fangs

and call her a miserable clown.