Happy Monday. Here’s a new limerick challenge for you. Your word is:
CRAZY
Last week’s prompt was BUILT. You came up with some super limericks:
Nicola Daly:
He spoke with a mesmerising lilt
And his torso was sculpted and well-built
And when he gave me a kiss
It was the most utter bliss
But then I saw what he kept under his kilt!
Squirreljan:
“Get off your arse we’ve gotta get this built.
Shift those stumps.” His voice was gloopy like silt
He had an attitude so crude
That I chose to wee in his food
And smile as he scoffed – I felt no guilt.
Jimmy’s snowman looks like a bear
You can tell he built it with great care
Other kids in their yards
Watch Jimmy’s statue, which he guards
They’d knock it down, if they dare!
As a tank it was built for success.
It succeeded in making a mess.
It was stopped one fine day
when it went out to play
by a tank built to cause more distress.
“I am not built for this,” I said
Looking at my life with only dread
Then, after sloshing through another spiky pit
I saw how it made me strong and really fit
Not BUILT, but sculpted, corrected, and led.
Murray Clarke:
I often wonder, full of guilt
If a balsa-wood boat I built,
And filled it with migrants from France,
It sure would be their very last chance!
The craft would tilt –
And, splash! – they’d end up in the silt!
Can He Do It? No He Can’t!
With his blueprints all spilt,
Bob was riddled with guilt.
See, he’d misread an angle,
Got all in a fankle,
And the house that he’d built had a tilt.
They said it was strongly built
Her tree house that stood on stilts,
For up high in the air
There was none to compare
Seeing the moon from under a quilt.
They built an ark out in the park
But it floated away in the dark
Bumped into a house
And squashed a mouse,
The animals fate was so stark!
Rall:
she was a nice ole sheila
loved using the fax
was sweet and kind
but found it hard to find
a guy to buy her tequilas
cos she was built like a battle axe
Tilting At Windmills
A man named Quixote would tilt
At windmills that others had built
Watching him fight
Was always a sight
And then he’d move on without guilt.
Ron:
Scrambled Not Fried
He built and he built and he built;
then he built and he built and he built.
He built and he built
and he built and he built,
and he quit. (I bet you read ‘quilt’)
The house that we live in is new
But it’s causing a hullaballoo.
Although it’s just built,
It’s gone all atilt.
Oh, what a fine “how-do-you-do!”
A man who had built a whole town
was sitting downtown with a frown
When asked, “What’s the problem, old son?”
He said, “Well, I’ve cut off my thumb,
but my four fingers won’t let me down.”
I longed for some help with housework,
so I built a robot I called Kirk,
but all Kirk did was play
with the cats every day,
and left me his chores. What a jerk!
In looking at how a limerick was built,
I was filled with some tremendous guilt.
Writing wrong left me blue,
Being such a foolish tool,
My dawgy head did that sideways tilt.
Stilt was short for Stilton, just so you know;
he wasn’t tall but one-legged, and so,
he stood on top of one stilt,
that was anti-gravitationally built,
and Stilt (aka Stilton) put on a show.
–
To be or not to be purposefully built,
can cause a Shakespearean actor to wilt;
in Hamlet one knows,
where a handcart it goes,
and that there’s so much blood to be spilt.
Laugh Along
A pig built his house very strong
Making sure nothing went wrong
He hammered with cheer
‘No wolf’s coming near ‘ere!’
A shame he was just wearing a thong!
While dancing a jig in a kilt
A young man began to wilt
The weather was hot
But the jigger was not
His physique. was definitely not built.
They say Rome wasn’t built in a day
And I strongly agree, I must say
‘Self-assembly’ gear
That I bought from IKEA
Has been sitting in pieces since May.
There was a young man quite well built
whose weight made him feel full of guilt
Till one day… no more sniveling,
he did quit on his nibbling
And went to the gym at full tilt.
Olaf Sturlasson’s Poetry Corner:
There was an old man in a kilt
Like an outhouse of bricks he was built
What was worn underneath
You’d stare at in disbelief
For nothing was worn ‘neath the kilt.
A young lady who built a house
Said, “Kevin, will you be my spouse?”,
I said to her, “Matilda,
You know I’m no builder!
But I do speak very good Scouse!”
there was a chap called Hadrian
who built himself a wall
80 miles from coast to coast
And over 10 foot tall
he built it for protection
to keep tne Scottish clans at bay
It didn’t work in Roman times
and it doesn’t work today.
When little pig built his house out of straw
Hungry wolf came a knocking on his door
He huffed and he puffed
And soon enough
Poor little pig and his house were no more.
There once was a young man so fine,
Built with muscles that truly did shine.
He ran to my place
With a smile on his face.
I’m sure glad this big lug is mine!
Finished sifting sand and silt
Proud of the raised beds she’d built
Red rover, red rover
Neighbor’s dogs came over
She cried, watching as they spilt.
Richmond Road has a limerick to share from last week’s prompt (shower):
With a stench that might soon overpower
A fat man took himself to the shower
And when he came out
Though still naked and stout
He was smelling as sweet as a flower.
I remember when our house was built,
The builder didn’t feel any guilt.
As he fitted the guttering,
He heard mother muttering,
Did you have to come to work in your kilt?
***
Esther Chilton 
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