Here’s a new limerick challenge for you at the start of this new week. Your word is:
ROCK
Last week’s prompt was TOUCH. You came up with some clever limericks:
Nicola Daly:
There once was a camel called Clive
Thought it was high time he learned to sky dive
Flying high in the plane
In a rush to touch land again
He jumped, landing in a bee hive.
Most people don’t mind a touch,
and though others may like it too much,
you have learned, I am hoping,
when it comes to groping,
that no one is fond of a clutch.
There once was a la-de-de-dah
who wanted a good rhyme for “ah”
like how “much” rhymes with “touch”
like how “such” rhymes with “Dutch”.
like how what rhymes with “ah” except “ha”?
An Old Man’s Sensory Lament
I still think that my tastebuds work well,
But I can’t smell so I can’t really tell.
I don’t hear very much.
I guess I’m losing my touch…
And my eyesight is all shot to hell!
Women Who Like Hugs
You can look, but do not touch,
Charlie had heard a few times too much.
So, he changed the type of woman to date,
Choosing women who didn’t care what they ate,
Finding them more agreeable to a clutch.
A man who was granted the Midas touch
was warned that it might become too much
Everything that he had
was gold, heavy and bad
He cried, “Take away the curse in my clutch!”
A man with a stick and a crutch,
at restaurants liked to go Dutch,
he had visited France,
liked Modern Romance,
and on Wednesdays he lived in a hutch.
An Offer He Shouldn’t Refuse!
Don Dellucci lost the car race,
As you know, The Mafia hate second place.
So, handed a yellow rosette,
He issued the threat:
”You toucha my car, I breaka you face!”
Oh, how Paula thought about touch
With her sex life, she wasn’t getting much
Oo la la when room service arrived
This, may sound contrived
But, yeah you’re right, she was shit out of luck.
Sexagenarian Scribbler (last week’s prompt ‘cells’):
‘On little grey cells you must rely’
Said Poirot, an intelligent guy
Put to good use
One can deduce
Whodunnit, how where when and why.
He screamed at me ‘This was HOW MUCH?’
When I tried to explain such and such
Had cost an arm and a leg
As the salesman had pegged
Just how much I was a soft touch!
I have a real tall hutch
Glass doors you must not touch
But cats are slow
To understand no-no
And don’t care if they get in Dutch!
*
Cats scrabble to the top of the hutch
On the way up they touch the doors much
They enjoy being high looking around
But meow for help getting down
I scold, then hug them in a clutch.
Olaf Sturlasson’s Poetry Corner:
A young woman who was very butch
Fell in love with a man who was Dutch
She found out the hard way
He swung the other way
So she kicked that love right into touch.
There once was a man with a crutch
Who said he didn’t know much.
He sat on his bum
Off key he did hum.
And approached everyone for a touch.
There once was a cowboy named Butch,
The problem was he spoke double-Dutch,
When he got talking to his horse
She took off at g-force
And he landed with not a soft touch!
I’m having to go by touch
My cataract op was too much
I’m wearing an eye patch
Things are hard to watch!
And the colours I see are ow-uch!
Women said that his touch was most magical
His kisses were devine, almost tragical
But then he’d take flight
And vanish into the night
His love life was a tale quite theatrical.
“I have the Midas Touch,” he said
Yet all he handled turned to lead
Luck he had
All of it bad
I’m surprised he isn’t dead.
*
The limerick you just read
Has a protagonist touched in the head
You say “bad”
Yet he’s glad
I fear he’s quite mislead.
Sanny M:
The blood test needed to be done
But he wasn’t finding it fun
“Don’t touch me,” he said
Laying prone on the bed
His eyes searching for somewhere to run.
A curious robot named Clutch
Was learning the meaning of “touch”
He patted a cat,
It hissed and it spat—
Now Clutch doesn’t touch quite as much!
There once was a cloud, soft and white,
Whose touch brought the rain in the night.
It tickled the trees,
With a gentle soft breeze,
Then floated away out of sight.
There was a Roman Candle
Who fell for a Catherine wheel
They had a little sparkle
Which was probably not ideal
You light up my blue touch paper
I just can’t tell you how I feel
Our love will burn so brightly
Briefly, yes, but forever real.
Rall:
he said you’re too much
you’re such a soft touch
she said oh Ben
no worries dear friend
i’m here for the taking
beats cleaning and baking.
My rabbit sleeps sound in his hutch,
He’s not angora but a black and white Dutch.
He can munch on his greens,
Till he’s bursting at the seams .
But his fur is so soft to the touch.
***
Esther Chilton 
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