Happy Monday, everyone. Let’s have a productive week. Here’s your new limerick challenge. Your word is:
BLOCK
Last week’s prompt was HACK. You came up with some funny limericks:
Pets love us unconditionally.
Mine have been best friends to me.
They don’t know I’m a hack
And they never talk back…
They’ve all been great company.
Nicola Daly:
There once was a feller called Jack
Wore a long black gabardine mac.
He followed his nose
You know how it goes
When you’re a top-notch award-winning hack.
I’m calling in sick today
For I do not feel okay
For breath I lack
With my nonstop hack
It’s at home I need to stay.
Don’t hack your Rose garden
Please give it a pardon
Let it thrive
And-Beehive
So plants grow, in your yard Don!
Kate in Cornwall:
There’s not many people can hack
A booze-up with my Uncle Jack
He drinks Rum and Black
‘Til his body goes slack
And then we have to carry him back.
There once was a man with a sack,
Who claimed he never looked back.
When he lost his home,
Cold streets he did roam,
Swearing he has solved life’s hack.
Sanny M:
A computer whizz was Jack
There was always a way he could hack
The mainframe would freeze
Bring the stores to their knees
Then he’d charge them to get their stuff back!
Tony:
I saw the hack,
under the dirty nails of an exiled angel,
he scribbled the codes as one tears God away.
Bit, pulsar, glowworm in ether —
I drank the forbidden in ports without borders.
Pirated silences sang of insomnia,
souls tied to the fibers were screeching.
The world, glass machine,
opened like a skull under the nail of the HACK.
And me, a kid with the soles of algorithms,
I was slipping naked in the cracks.
Ah! the thought!
This thing that we thought was free,
I saw her hacked, lacerated, impregnated —
and enjoy a flash.
The real? A poorly protected illusion.
Squirreljan:
There once was an old journo called Tim
Who was nice but incredibly dim
He wrote like a hack
But he did have a knack
Of telling a story so terribly grim.
A clever young coder named Jack
Found a way through the system to hack
With a wink and a grin
He slipped neatly in
Then sat back and enjoyed a Big Mac.
There once was a crack in the code
and a hack from a coder who showed
if the hack fixed the crack
then the crack was the hack
and the code with the hack would explode.
Olaf Sturlasson’s Poetry Corner:
There was a young man who did hack
His way down a dark jungle track
Lopping branches off trees
With blades tied to his knees
And another one strapped to his back.
There was a young man named Jack
He loved to play hack-y sack
While he did tricks with his feet
He won the mete
By flipping it behind his back.
All groceries in one sack
A strain upon her back
For help with her haul
She made a quick call
To the neighborhood hack.
There is a fine guitarist, Stephen Hackett;
who used his instrument as a thwackett;
his solos were grand,
he was ace at backhand,
but the neighbours complained at the racket!
There once was a fine lumberjack
Who loved to wield chain saws and hack
He chopped down all the trees
Then fell down on his knees
Cause he couldn’t get all those trees back.
His cough was more of a hack
So she slapped him on the back,
He burped then he sneezed
And fell down on his knees
As he reached for the tissues pack.
His face became very red
As he tried to talk instead,
But his cough started again
A rough chesty refrain,
So she tucked him up in bed.
There once was a man named Mack
Who said, “I shall this computer hack!”.
So him and Max
Both wielded an axe.
But made no money from their hack!
There once was a hopeless hack
Who had an uncanny knack
He’d worm out a story
Then take all the glory
And dodge the inevitable flack.
A computer wizard named mack
Decided he wanted to hack
With a whoop and a shout
He sent lots of viruses out
Before falling flat on his back.
I’ve been hacked yet again on FB
Someones stolen my identity
Any messages flirty
Or decidely dirty
Have definitely not come from me!
In the lake a young Girl Scout pack
Caught my eye, think I’ll give ‘em a whack
With my sharp hatchet blade
I will lunge from the glade
And attack, ‘cos I’m Hattie the Hack!
What would I need from the tack?
To take this young horse on a hack.
It’s what I had feared ,
Ozzy snorted and reared.
Till I eventually got on his back.
***
Esther Chilton 
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