Here’s to a great new week. Here’s a fresh limerick challenge for you. Your word this week is:
TRAIL
Last week’s prompt was TALK. You came up with some very funny limericks:
Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah
Wah Wah Wah Wah
Always talking
People gawking
Ha ha ha ha
“When you talk you don’t listen,” they said.
So I listened and they talked instead.
Then I listened some more,
though I don’t know what for,
since the words that I heard missed my head.
The news wants to talk about weather
They think they are being so clever
If they have a clue
I’d just bet you
They’d never get it right, not ever!
Here’s a bottle, you may pop the cork
Please use a knife and a fork
I allow you within my dominion
But I don’t want to hear your opinion
So just try to eat, not to talk.
–
We sit then we crawl then we walk
Use our hands then a spoon then a fork
Things are progressing
Our parents obsessing
But regretting the first day that we talk.
Nicola Daly:
Cousin Jonah’s a bit of a dork
All he does is talk and talk
He thinks it’s great to relax
By droning on about tax
But me? I’ d rather hear a hawk squawk.
Kate in Cornwall:
Our teacher of physics, Prof. Fawkes
Bored us with his talk about torque
Whatever he said
Went over my head
But my nose took the force of his chalk.
Talk if you want, and you must;
whilst walking, your talking is just,
words in the breeze,
dialogue through the trees,
and chalk leaves blown away in a gust.
Sandra Morgan:
The talk was of a day of fun,
A celebration, a trophy won,
The red mist cleared,
The pavements smeared,
A sad day now for father & son.
Talk is cheek
“Why didn’t you talk before?
When you’re three, and coming up four?”
“Coz the food’s been okay
But this muck today?
I ain’t eating it any more.”
I once went for a country walk
With a girl who loved to talk.
I warned her of cow pats,
But she failed to hear that –
Which shows the dangers of excessive talk …!
“Small talk stops big thoughts”
Quoted Professor George Shorts
He was very bombastic
Certainly not fantastic
His teaching reviews? all noughts!
When Cindy showed up in her gown
She was certainly the talk of the town
From magic silk
To fairy god-mother’s milk
Haute couture without bound.
Olaf Sturlasson’s Poetry Corner:
There was a young man who would talk
Of the birds and the bees and the stork
But what he didn’t know
Was how babies grow
For he taught that they grew on a stalk.
At the store they said the parrot could talk
But once we got home all the bird did was squawk
By the end of the week
The bird would not speak
I might just as well have purchased a hawk.
There once was a man all alone
Who often would talk to a stone
He hadn’t a friend
And in truth, in the end
No one argued or bullied or groaned.
There once was a man from Montauk,
Who always made time for a beach walk.
One day on a stroll,
He didn’t notice a hole.
And is now the subject of town talk.
As different as cheese and chalk,
One fat, one thin as a stalk:
One giving and kind,
Only loving in mind,
The other did nothing but talk!
Heidi Dare (on a previous prompt):
There was not a noise, not a peep
When my alarm went crazy with a beep
I did hear my bedroom shoes squeak
At that time, I knew my situation was bleak
When I laid my eye on a dirty ‘ole creep.
I once had a parrot named Sue,
Whose vocabulary grew and grew.
She talked in the hall,
And talked to the wall.
She even talked to me while in the loo!
The Parrot
I really wish I could talk
But all that comes out is a squawk
I whistle and cluck
And wish for some luck
Yet speech is still in a lock.
I’ve talked and talked to me again,
Been told to stop, but I must explain:
I’m glad, this lad
Is pretty mad,
I’m happy being slightly sane.
I admit that for years I would baulk
But finally I gave them ‘the talk’;
One said very little;
The others, ‘Does it tickle?’
And, ‘That explains the strange squawk!’
***
Esther Chilton 
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