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 the lines below.
My haiku are written to open a door
to a world, for you to feel, see and explore
if you find a word
that you think is absurd
your comments, I’ll politely ignore
Charles Baker, Mineral Point
A pot-dealing sous chef from Aragon
as Renaissance Man was a paragon.
His clients he’d feed
fois gras trimmed with weed,
while lacing their doobies with tarragon.
There was a percussionist stout
who beat his bass drum with a trout.
When asked if that aided
the way he paraded
he said, “It depends on the route.”
A traffic cop in Ulan Bator
arrested a large alligator.
He wrestled with it
discovered it bit
and wound up a post-ambulator.
The beard of the Naval Attache
was made only of papier mache.
The visage impinged
he must be unhinged
to wear such a flammable cachet.
I have poured over volumes of history
’til the tips of my fingers grew blistery.
Though I’ve learned quite a lot
still the question of what
I will do with it all is a mystery.
Michael Brandt, Arena
A groundhog trying hard to regroup,
Quite groggy and out of the loop,
Came out of his den
Put paper to pen
And said, “Only 12 more weeks yet of hoops!”
Justin O’Brien, Mineral Point
I’ve been trying to keep my core flexed
But I’ve become more and more vexed.
I would go to the gym,
But I’ve been frozen in,
I think I have been polar vortexed.
Winter driving these hills is such fun!
I am off on a grocery store run.
My panic is huge!
Down the driveway I luge …
And returning uphill can’t be done.
Sharon Rowe, Mineral Point/Dodgeville
You’ve heard of the group called the Chough;
these lads clearly do know their stuff.
They’ll sing in a mine,
they’ll sing rain or shine,
’til the chough-in-chief says, “That’s enough.”
The Choughs are named after a bird
whose singing is best left unheard.
It’s handsome and smart,
but you’ll quickly depart
from its squawking, so please take my word
that the gentlemen of the Chough Singers
will make you quite happy to linger,
to hear the sweet notes
from the ensemble’s throats—
every Chough song’s a humdinger.
Nearby there’s an old oak savannah,
the home of an errant piranha.
I easily caught her,
a fish out of water,
and wrapped her in my red bandanna.
She told me she never eats meat,
but prefers all the fruits that are sweet.
So we shared a banana,
and several sultanas;
she said, “What a flavorful treat!”
Nancy Schmalz, Mineral Point
There was a young lad, Mike Maloney
who some thought was full of baloney
He could spin a yarn
as big as a barn,
but WE KNEW that he was a phony.
He met a young lass, Kate Mahoney
who soon became Mrs. Maloney
and then to their joy
came a fine baby boy
and that folks, IS TRUE…NO BALONEY
Marie Sersch, Dodgeville