Limericks by Readers

Just in time for St. Patrick’s Day, Voice readers responded to our call to share limericks, the poetic form of five lines and two rhymes, typically accompanied by a lilting rhythm and a bit of humor. Our thanks to the poets who contributed these lines.

Poet Jones
There once was a poet named Jones
who was nothing but thin skin and bones,
so he swallowed his verse
for better or for worse,
stifling his belle-lettristic moans.
Gary Jones, Platteville
A woman who usually hiked
Decided to try out her bike
She flew down a hill
And took a great spill
And now she has switched to a trike.

The glaciers of old passed us by
While cycling I’ve asked myself why
These hills are too steep
The valleys so deep
That biking them makes my legs die.
Gaila Olsen, Black Earth
The deadline is quickly approaching,
But the topics I feel most need broaching
Are too convoluted,
Obscene or polluted …
My Muse is sternly reproaching.

When camping one day up a coulee
I met a man with a car-top Thule.
Sez he, this device
Stores skis, tackle, or ice …
And my kids when they get too unruly!
Sharon Rowe, Mineral Point/Dodgeville
“A covey, a bevy of three!
Of course there is no guarantee —
but it sounds like such fun …
consider it done!”
A trio of winds came to be.

There’s more; this short tale has an encore:
a soft serenade at the door,
then a singer called Gala
joined their musicale, and
they were a quartet evermore.
Nancy Schmalz, Mineral Point
The Maloneys
Johnny Maloney was 1
Life was a barrel of fun
He could wiggle and walk
giggle and talk
life for him had begun.

He tried to sit on the cat,
She wasn’t too happy ’bout that.
She put out her paw,
scratching his jaw
Blood and screams!!! PLENTY OF THAT
Marie Sersch, Dodgeville

A radical Bolshevik weevil
thought cotton the root of all evil.
So she set as her goal
to devour every boll
and foment a social upheaval.

Each morning the Fates decide first,
which lives will be blessed or cursed.
For some, the day’s fine;
for others, like swine,
the road takes a turn for the wurst.

When Oedipus asked if his Mom
would go as his date to the prom,
she started to weep
said, “Freud is a creep;
I’d rather you’d see Mr. Fromm.”

A Luddite enamored of maps
refused to use GPS apps
like others were using.
He said, “Tis their choosing
to fall into digital traps!”

A bear coming home from a forage
found someone had eaten his porridge.
“That blond brat again!”
he thundered, and then
gave forth an appropriate roarage.
Michael Brandt, Arena

A Cold, Cold Night
On a horribly cold winter night
I dozed in my chair bundled tight
when a rap on my door
interrupted a snore,
which startled and sat me upright.

I carefully opened to peek
through the crack where my light made a streak.
You can guess my surprise
and the look in my eyes
when a porcupine started to speak.

He said with a shivery smile,
“My friends have lined up single file,
the temp’s below zero
would you be our hero
and let us come in for a while?”

I saw with incredible shock
wild animals clear down the block.
They were trembling and cold,
some young and some old,
huddling close on the frigid sidewalk.

I knew it would be quite a squeeze
but I said, “Won’t you all come in, please?”
They started to run
but came in one by one
leaving not enough room for a sneeze!

The raccoon and the rabbit and bear
curled up next to my easy chair.
The wolf by the fire,
the eagle up higher,
while the fox and the squirrel took a stair.

The beaver went under the bed,
the skunk chose my closet instead.
The fawn nestled down
on my flowered nightgown
and the owl perched on top of my head.

When places were found for the rest
they settled down snug in their nest.
No snarl or growl
not a one on the prowl.
I have to say I was impressed

While outside the cold wind was sweeping
Inside everybody was sleeping.
In the morning I fed
fresh green lettuce and bread,
then they left as the sunlight came creeping.

When winter is harsh to the skin
and the clothes you are wearing feel thin,
you’ll know it is cold
when the wild things get bold
and come asking if you’ll take them in.
Pat Larson, Lone Rock