Here’s the start of another hot week and a new limerick challenge. Your word is:
HACK
Last week’s prompt was BOWL. You came up with some great limericks:
These days my hair looks from Saturn
My barber used a bowl for a pattern
Who’d ‘ave thunk
Round like a monk
I’d better always keep a hat on.
The fish were put in to bowl,
eleven men? No, more like a shoal,
The cats were in bat;
and, yes you may cry, ‘How’zat?”
The fish won easily, because the cats had no sole.
Kate in Cornwall:
The farmer, a kind, gentle soul
Tried catching the mole in a bowl
But it couldn’t be done
So he brought out his gun
At which, the mole scampered back down his hole.
Breakfast Barber:
There was a young man from Hitchin,
Who preferred to shave in the kitchen.
So his wife, the poor soul,
Gave him a cereal bowl,
To catch the hairs of his chinny-chin-chin in.
I once ate a Chipotle bowl
Which had all good for the soul
Chicken and rice
With spices so nice
My hunger was then under control!
Nicola Daly:
You remember Mad-eye the mole?
Kept his coal in a mouldy old bowl
‘It’s time, I think,’
He said with a blink
‘To move that smelly old sole to a hole.’
Tony:
A bowl of wind, a bowl of forgetfulness,
A bowl of silence at the bottom of the bed.
A bowl of love that is spilled too soon,
A broken bowl, memory in pieces.
A bowl of sky, a bowl of night,
I drink life in every bowl,
Even when broken, the taste continues.
As Big John stepped into bowl
He tripped on a hill made by a mole
The atmosphere hushed
The tea lady blushed
His underpants were on show through a hole.
This evening we went out to bowl
But found the green had a hole
So it ruined the game!
We knew who to blame
It was from the digging of a mole!
–
Clarice Cliffe designed a lovely bowl
Made to commemorate the whole
Of the pottery trades
Colours of all shades
Wonderful patterns, her ultimate goal.
A young man wearing a washing up bowl
Said, “I shall go to the North Pole!”.
But when he got there
A very large Polar bear
Swallowed him, but left that washing up bowl!
There once was a fellow named Joel,
Who’s stranded on a deserted atoll.
His life was a bore,
Till he found on the shore,
Ten pins and a ball for a bowl.
There’s a bowl filled with soup and a spoon
as a girl, Goldilocks, hums a tune.
Since the bears are away
she’ll have soup, but she may
have to leave and she’d better leave soon.
Sanny M:
They said it was easy to bowl,
On a green you just had to roll,
He sent up the jack,
But then put out his back,
Oh my he said “bless my soul”.
Bob buttered a bit of his roll
To dip in the soup in his bowl
He left it at that
Then put on his hat
And went out in the rain for a stroll.
My great grandmother’s wooden bowl
Has played a significant role
In many delicious
Jewish “soul food” dishes…
And it’s the bowl that gives them the “soul!”
Olaf Sturlasson’s Poetry Corner:
A young man with a bowl full of soup
Tripped over a small chicken coop
He landed face first
Which wasn’t the worst
For he managed to save all his soup.
I once cut his hair with a bowl
And wow did he scream and bawl
How could you dare?
You Cut my hair-
That’s how he became a troll.
Johnny loved his cereal bowl
Added sugar that took its toll
Would suffer from sugar highs
Ate too much, couldn’t deny
Now he no longer walks, just rolls.
The dog looked with dismay at his bowl,
No treats, no sausage roll,
So he tiptoed inside
And with canine pride
Ate the master’s dinner he stole!
A mom with a practical goal
Gave her son a new look with a bowl.
With scissors she snipped,
While the poor lad just quipped,
“I look like a cereal troll!”
A penguin once tripped on a shoal,
And slid down a hill in a bowl.
He laughed all the way,
Yelled, “Best kind of day!”
Then crashed through a snowman’s patrol.
Jock always wanted to bowl
Having given up rock and roll
He was unclear on the rules
Wore ridiculous mules
And ran around shouting ‘goal’.
Ball in hand at the Hollywood Bowl
My finger got stuck in the hole
Down I went splat
I felt a right twat
Not a strike, or a spare, just own goal!
Stan was a man without peer
In bowling and drinking up beer
One night he felt surly
So he went home early
And his wife said, “What are you doing here?”
Molly Mole, who lived in a hole
One day decided to bowl
She poked out her head
And then she said,
This ball is too heavy to roll.
–
A giant was new to the game
Taking turns going frame to frame
The ball he did roll
As he began to bowl
And exclaimed, “This game is lame!”
Meg put her cereal in the bowl
She knew the sugar would take its toll
She ate it quick
That was her trick
And now she has a tummy roll.
–
Barney had eaten breakfast fast
He hated when the tastes would last
He swallowed quick
In his throat it’d stick
It was only minutes before he passed.
–
Mama saw her son had died
Into her hands she sobbed and cried
He was her son
But now hes done
She went and took her tears outside.
An enterprising lad with a bowl
Set himself a culinary goal:
To be voted the best
By out-baking the rest.
But his cake came out tasting like coal!
***
Esther Chilton 
Leave a reply to June Limericks – Poetry, Short Prose and Walking Cancel reply