Limerick poems. Read, find, and share examples of Limerick poems by international web poets. These are the most popular and best examples of limerick poems. See also Limerick Quotes.The following examples of Limerick poems illustrate what a Limerick poem looks like, and how they are constructed. The form or category is selected by the poet and thus may not be accurate.
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At the footbridge Sue was meeting her beau
(He was married to a woman called Flo)
Sue soon found out his deception
She dismembered his erection
For his love life it was a massive blow
To the hospital fled poor Rodger
For an op to repair his todger
Now fixed, it's SO big
Rodger grunts like a pig
in porn films as Rodger the lodger
Inspired by but not for contest
BY JAN ALLISON
He promised Flo he never would leave her
And she would be his only receiver
But she caught him with Sue
And his chances were through
Gnawing off wood when he neared her beaver
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
Sue castrated that cheating deceiver
With one whack of her meat cleaver
she pulled a Lorena Bobbit
turned Rodger into a Hobbit
Sue's now known as an "overachiever"
WRITTEN BY MARTI SUTHERLAND
Across the table sits sweet Amee
Once A Roger, before he became a she
The master of infidelity
So many personalities
Before and after he became an amputee..
WRITTEN BY SKAT A
He was known as a terrible stoner
With a huge un-deflatable boner
It now sits in a jar
At the end of the bar
A reminder to all of its owner...
WRITTEN BY JOHN LAWLESS
It’s become a tourist attraction
As a symbol of female subtraction
Grannies sneak in for a peek
Everyday of the week
Dreaming of former of love action.
WRITTEN BY MARK WOODS
Oh how sad that pork missile should be
unemployed but for all there to see
if science, in a jiffy
can rejuvenate stiffys
then the first in the queue would be me!
WRITTEN BY VIV WIGLEY
Flo wanted to give Sue a high five
For slicing Rodger with all his jive
A two timing fool
Who broke every rule
Now lil Rodger don't work in overdrive
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
Rodger's story has been immortalized
For having his thingy circumcised
It's on display in a bar
Now hanging in a jar
While it's slowing becoming crystalized
WRITTEN BY MARTI SUTHERLAND
As she ponders on what to eat
Hopefully, it won’t be red meat
For there on the log
Is Rodger's hot dog
So she gets excited and jumps off her feet.
WRITTEN BY WINGED WARRIOR
There's a lesson I really must blurt
To all those blokes out chasing some 'skirt'
When you're on heat
Don't share your meat
'Cause your todger might really get hurt!
WRITTEN BY MARK WOODS
Poor forgotten noteworthy Sue
Looking so gloomy she blew
At the pickled todger
once belonging to Rodger
kissing good times its last adieu
WRITTEN BY EVE ROPER
As "Rodger" snaked out of the door
It went past a room on tenth floor.
A woman therein
Said "Come right on in."
she kept screaming, "More, I want more!
WRITTEN BY ANDREA DIETRICH
After Sue chopped his tally-whacker
Poor Rodger became quite the slacker
He tried to bring his pecker forth
Never again to be pointing north
Now when he pees he sits on the crapper.
He stopped at the house, the red-light was on
Knocked on the door, the girls were all gone
Stuck with his sawed-off boner
Tonight He's going to be a loner
Damn, why did the girls all have to be gone?
BOTH POEMS WRITTEN BY JAMES ANDERSEN
A group of limericks quite clever
Began with one simple sever
Of engorged penis
which is, (between us),
I think, a spicy endeavor
WRITTEN BY H PENELOPE SWIFTLOCK
There was perfection in his pecker,
as a porn star he was a wrecker,
but to his wife he was unfair,
so she severed what was down there,
now his only job is director.
WRITTEN BY CASARAH NANCE
Poor Rodger thought he was being slick
when he carved out a handcrafted prick
he rubbed his new attire
his precious toy caught fire
Now he is left with an ashen stick
WRITTEN BY TEPPO GREN
An ashen stick means man minus prick.
Poor Rodger, now a eunuch, without a fix.
He decided to become a transgender.
Then off he went on a bender.
Woke up married to a man from Bertrix
WRITTEN BY JEAN MURRAY
Rodger's new love was a prudish fox
but for brains she had a head of rocks
he splinted up his willy
popsicle sticks look silly
he said it was new and still in the box!
WRITTEN BY SONNY ROPER (EVE'S HUBBY)
To be fair "At the Footbridge"
Now to be completely fair
And to stop every persons stare
Rodger was not actually circumcised
As he was a player, so don’t be surprised
This was from wear and tear and his willingness to share
WRITTEN BY MARK PAUL VAN DER MERWE
Now Rodger mostly stays home
for lack of a viable bone.
He reaches by habit
down for his rabbit:
he's got Phantom Willy Syndrome!
WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Rodger was a good friend of Eye
Had a real hankering for cherry pie
Tasted every chance he got
And it would hit the spot
Until his crazy wife made him cry
WRITTEN ON 14TH JUNE BY EYE TRUTH TELLER
Roger pretends that he's a sexy stud
But when the ladies find out he's a dud
they all laugh in his face
anatomically a disgrace
His manhood is referred to as "The Bud"
WRITTEN ON 15TH JUNE BY LIN LANE
Rodger thought his op was a success
When he found he had more and not less
But the surgeon's blind stunt
Sewed it on back to front
Well, he certainly lacks some finesse!
WRITTEN ON 15TH JUNE BY RAY GRIDLEY
As he crossed the footbridge, Georgie saw a duck
Quite unique and raucous, it could quack AND cluck!
(And did so incessantly)
"Hey! Hey! It's all about me!"
It loudly proclaimed, with much aplomb and pluck
WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
I also wrote another poem but this one did not turn into a collaboration -
if you read it you will see that it is quite different to my usual style
A desperate housewife I knew
had such mundane housework to do.
Being so tired of it,
she decided to quit.
Then off to Las Vegas she flew.
Having always been such a lithe girl,
she thought “I’ll give dancing a whirl!”
Her audition went well.
From a large oyster shell
She emerged, so they all dubbed her Pearl.
Her skin, soft and fair, shone like dew
as she smiled with eyes crystal blue.
All the men threw her money
as her voice, sweet as honey,
called out, “Let me entertain you!”
As Pearl danced each night, looking pretty,
Her husband, back in her home city,
was fit to be tied,
thinking maybe she’d died!
Poor fool didn’t have a clue, did he!
Unbeknownst to sweet Pearl, her “dear” spouse
had been sneaking off as she’d played house.
To conventions he’d said
he was going. Instead,
he’d been gambling in Vegas, that louse!
Off to strip clubs he’d gone every chance
that he got. How he loved to see dance
naked women all sizes
in sexy disguises
while his wife at home longed for romance.
Now the tables were very much turned.
And her husband was feeling quite spurned.
He would sleep restlessly
thinking where could she be!!
But her whereabouts he never learned.
No longer could he run away
on a whim. He still had bills to pay.
That cleaning and cooking
meant no time for looking
at girls! He had less time to play.
In Vegas, his wife had come far.
In fact, she was a superstar.
Wearing naught but a fan,
she’d entice every man,
then drive home in a pearl-colored car!
Her spouse lost his job. The years fled.
His wife he then had declared dead.
But with no job in sight,
he’d stay home each night,
with loneliness causing him dread.
Do you think this guy ever has let
his conscience feel any regret
that his wife did so much
while he gambled and such?
Has he learned anything at all yet?
Did he marry and get a new bride?
Did Pearl go and change her sweet ride
to a sleek red Corvette,
and did SHE marry yet?
I leave it to YOU to decide!
Written June 2016 for the Desperate Housewife Contest of PD
JAN HAS A FAN
Jan Has no Tan
I once saw a gal called Jan
So sexy she made me ran
Straight to the vicar
Said marry us quicker
Whilst she drank her tea on the can
She is as White as pure Sand
I once met a gal in white dress
I fell straight in love I must confess
She was drinking her tea
While I stared at her knee
Surely my intentions she guessed
She Sips Her Tea Daily
I once met a gal drinking Tea
My heart was pumping in glee
From her nose to her toes
When she smiled I froze
So charming I become a devotee
While I Admire Her so Gayly
When I saw the lady in the white dress
My thoughts she I did undress
As she gazed out the window
She caught peeking Jimbo
Who was in quite the state of distress
I am a fan of the great poet Jan
There once was a gal who could fart
She refined it into an art
Her white dress in a breeze
Would lift till you sneeze
But she’ll always be my sweetheart
Notes: I just realized the title, as far as Jan is concerned , well could have a double meaning!
A man with a quiet demeanor
was cursed with a miniscule wiener.
He tried lotions and pills
But not one cured his ills.
Now he's a silent nail hole cleaner.
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
His todger though tiny still worked.
When he went for a wee it jerked.
He could still have full sex.
It was rather complex,
but when it was over he smirked.
BY JAN ALLISON
His wee-wee was indeed very wee
to the extent that no one could see.
When asked, “Are you a man?”
He replied, “Yes, I am.
You can follow up stream when I pee.”
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Went out for a night with a hooker
Blonde but thick and no looker
When she saw his todger
Said my dog is bigger
You're taking me for a sucker
BY SEREN ROBERTS
A silent curse shrunk his wee to a teeny thing
I swear it is no bigger than a lil chicken wing
For sex a useless reject
Can't tell when its erect
We make jokes about his miniature ding a ling
Wait a minute please, I won't tell a lie
isn't always small, it's big as apple pie
the winds were mighty chilly
affecting my poor old Willie
now you hurt my feelings, think I'm gonna cry
BY TIM SMITH
Big Bertha said, "It ain't the cubic inches
nope, the part for me what clinches
is strokes per minute
while they's in it
not a tool needs movin' with winches."
BY LIM'RICK FLATS
if you want join in the fun!
Dale Gregory Cozart
What causes those daft in the head
To hurt others with things they’ve said
If you must then vent
Your jealous intent
Perhaps you should mute it instead.
There was a young girl whose silk skin
Was sewn up with some thread and a pin.
It would drive the men mad,
That sleek layer she had,
Well, until she took off her silk skin.
By Anne Currin
That he planned his funeral is factual
And being a prankster quite actual
He prerecorded his voice
So when we kneeled on the joist
He said, "Hi there! Don't I look natural."
Judith Angell Meyer
I once knew a gentle poet boy
Pretending to be the real McCoy
He lost two in a row
This is no game show
At the end, I felt used by the playboy
(The cold rain)
I wish I could take back the HM
Don't know why you chose to condemn
I thought we were friends
Now I see through crystal lens,
How you think all your poems are a top gem
(Not a reason to hate)
I once knew a girl with heavy makeup
Behind her smile, her face was corrupt
She was in it for the race
Wanting all her poems to place
She did not win, now she's all worked up
Four “Golden Girls” seated at a table
Grey streaks our hair, but minds remain stable
Convention is underway
Michael has something to say
He opens our meeting with a fable
It’s about a tortoise that beats a hare
Some of the “fast writers” begin to glare
Joyce, Francine and Barbara know
It takes time for verse to grow
We’re the queens of rewriting; this we swear
Iolanda’s introduced to read her book
“Lava of my Soul,” no gobbledygook
We’re mesmerized by each line
At the end we toast with wine
Joyce says, “Now those words took some time to cook.”
It’s Karen’s turn to read “Silent Whispers”
We see tears falling into John’s whiskers
“Tears of joy,” Francine exclaims
For Karen’s Best Seller fame
Applause rings out from grateful listeners
After the “meet and greet” it’s nearly dawn
The crowd starts to thin as our comrades yawn
Joyce, Francine call it a night
But Barbara still sits upright
We two remain when most others are gone
One poet called us “Late Night Cockroaches”
This indignity did not encroach us
We call ourselves “LNCs”
Awake in wee hours with ease
Waiting for our princes to approach us
That’s when the James Brothers draw near
Peranteau and Fraser, to make it clear
With two erotic writers
LNCs pull “all nighters”
Knowing that we can propose; it’s Leap Year!
*Entry for Michael’s “A Table of Four” contest
At my table: Carolyn Devonshire
In spring time fresh flowers are rising
New lambs in the fields – not surprising
In every hedgerow and tree
Lush beauty will surround me
It’s heaven; there is no disguising
Contest: Spring Forward -Debbie Guzzi
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