Happy Monday. I can’t believe we’re edging towards the middle of May already. Anyway, have a great week. Here’s a fresh limerick challenge for you. Your word this week is:
DAD
Last week’s prompt was SNITCH. You came up with some super limericks:
Nicola Daly:
‘There’s a girl in my class who’s a snitch,’
Said Wenda the novice witch.
‘To get my own back,
I’ll hide her phone in this sack,
And then magic it into the ditch.’
Snitch was a nasty nickname
For a boy that came from the plain
But he was quite nice
And when he ate rice
He blew bubbles to really entertain.
There once was a witch and a snitch.
We weren’t sure though which one was the witch.
Perhaps neither. Who knows?
Although either one shows:
got a snitch, want a witch, then just switch.
There once was a bad, low down snitch
He’d turn on his friends like a switch
His mates like to say
He will get his someday
And wind up deceased in a ditch.
Old brooms may seem tame
But I learned the Quidditch game
With an itch
To catch the Snitch
Life’s never been the same.
*
There once was a girl named Gail
Who snitched on her boyfriend Dale
Crime doesn’t pay:
They took him away!
And now Dale’s in jail.
A woman who always would snitch
Found secrets too tempting to ditch
She whispered and told
Till friendships grew cold
Now everyone calls her a bitch.
There once was a man with a twitch,
Who appeared to be ultra rich.
He wore fine clothes,
All his ducks in rows.
But disappeared after labelled a snitch.
Marianne was called a bitch
Having dropped an important stitch
On a tapestry line
Which was said to define
Her mother in law was a snitch.
Olaf Sturlasson’s Poetry Corner:
A young man who decided to snitch
On the neighbour he thought was a witch
Was proved very right
When one fateful night
He ended up dead in a ditch.
The party went off without a hitch
Except Eliza took extra sips
From the bowl full of punch
She got obviously drunk
No one needed to snitch.
A mischievous wizard named Mitch,
Had a broom and a glittering snitch.
He flew with a grin,
Played Quidditch to win,
But tattled when Ron scratched an itch!
Old Gertie was a good, funny witch
She got herself deep in a glitch
She stole someones shoes
Now she’s singing the blues
‘Cause her sister decided to snitch.
It’s ironic how he complains. He’s a snitch
Like others would bow or would flinch
He gossips like so
In hopes you would know
He’s proud to be called Mr. Grinch.
Behind bars, he was the one
They sought out to find some fun
But when his palm, it would itch
He became the biggest snitch
Sharing what others had done.
There was a witch named Mitch
She sold items with lots of kitsch
When customers came in
She had a big grin
Their money she was happy to snitch.
There once was a snitch named Fred
Whose tattling turned faces bright red.
He’d tell on his friends,
Till their friendships would end,
Now he cries every night in his bed.
My so called friend is a witch,
Whom I hope I can very soon ditch.
She can’t hold a secret,
And known as tell tale tit,
Guaranteed she will always snitch.
There’s nothing worse than a snitch,
My best friend too, what a bitch!
For telling on me
She deserves to be
Tossed into the nearest ditch.
–
And an excellent limerick not on the prompt from Peter Bouchier on Liberation Day:
What is that: true liberation?
Is it war preparation
with weaponry
that everything bows to?
Or is that just symptom control?
The war is only really over
when
with the turning of the tide, distrust and hatred
turns into love,
trust between you and me.
*
When will we really be free?
As soon as we’ll have an army
that is big enough
for a decent bluff?
Or will it lead to bankruptcy?
We will only find the keys
to an everlasting peace
if anger and lust
change to love and trust.
Join hands and stop fighting, please!
***
Esther Chilton 
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