Happy new week. Here’s your fresh limerick challenge. Your word is
LITTER
Last week’s prompt was DUST. You came up with some thoughtful limericks:
Nicola Daly:
I thought I’d got it all sussed
How to carve a fancy stone bust
But my neighbours all woke
And my chisel they broke
And now my dreams of a bust – turned to dust.
A woman is tasked to wipe dust
Til her arms seem they’re going to rust
No way to avoid
Lest she buy a droid
Then she’ll go on vacation or bust!
Squirreljan:
It’s time to get the grubby duster out
Then I swipe and sweep, and I rant and shout
Because however thick
It only takes a flick
Before it lands again, there is no doubt.
Whenever I sweep up the dust,
I always am overly fussed,
by the way it arrives,
and although swept it survives;
I’m so fussed at the dust I have cussed!
Kate in Cornwall:
Quentin Crisp just couldn’t be fussed
He didn’t think housework a must
He said ‘hold your nerve’
And if you don’t swerve
After four years you won’t notice the dust.
The old house was full of dust
And lots and lots of rust
We opened the doors
And busted the floors
We did what we thought we must.
A terribly dusty cowboy was thought very crude.
But forcing a bath on him might have been rude.
If that weren’t so bad.
Folks got even more mad,
When a cloudburst washed the dust and he was nude!
There once were some bunnies of dust
Who hid where the cleaning’s a must
They scampered and sneezed
Under tables with ease
And vanished with one mighty gust.
Dusty Cowboy
A cowboy who was covered in dust
Declared, “Cleanin’ ain’t somethin’ I trust!”
He sneezed with a flair
Blew hats through the air
And rode off in a cloud of dust, as he must.
There once was a fellow named Must,
Who survived by eating just dust.
While extending his maw,
Came down with lock jaw.
Payback from consuming some rust.
Crust Hater
There once was a man who hated crust
so his mum ground the leftovers to dust
She scattered them fine
and at night did he dine
on crumble, and he never sussed.
While I’ll do any chore if I must,
I’m most happy when I get to dust.
On a difficult spot,
Over-eager I got,
And the Ming vase was totally bust.
Dusty Dust
So much dust! Can a sneezer now trust
all the dust that a sneezer now must?
When I sneeze I will say
to the dust: Blow away!
But it stayed since it’s just dusty dust.
Rall:
there is no time for lust
when you ‘ve got to clean and dust
leave it he said
let’s go to bed
lie back and think of England
if you must
Dust was what they found on Mars
Which astronauts bought back in jars!
Each ounce of it
Was fine, not grit!
As soft as little kittens paws…
Murray Clarke:
I’m betting some people will rhyme dust with lust.
All I can say to them is: “Why don’t you get stuffed!”
So sorry if that’s sounding a little too crude and rude
But I’m not in the mood whilst standing here nude.
However, they could, I suppose, try rhyming dust with bust?
The one thing I hate is to dust,
Though when visitors come I must,
I polish as well
‘Cos I love the smell
So it’s really worth all the fuss.
I suppose I will go if I must
Ash to ashes, and so dust to dust
One cold winter’s morning
I’ll depart without warning
In search of a God I can trust.
Grandma Bessie always said, “Trust is a must.”
When someone broke it, she fussed.
Her temper would frighten the cats,
And even the fast-flying bats.
My sweet old granny just cussed.
That’s Tits!
Poor woman could never dust
Her arms couldn’t get around her bust
She secretly hired a maid
And she relaxed in the shade
Now her house looks like she fussed.
An Englishman tries to be stolid
When faced with a circumstance squalid.
When deep in the crust
And the dust of the rust,
Would you not prefer something solid?
Still on Top of the Dirt
Laugh at me, if you think you must
I can brush off this paltry dust
But you will always remain
In a cell ‘cause you’re insane
Trying to bury me went bust.
A Tribute to Trent P. McDonald
After the dust settled, I softly smiled,
knowing blog friendships flow the tide.
Even though Trent’s gone,
His essence lingers on,
In hearts where his fun YouTube songs abide.
You Will Know Them By Their Fruit
You speak of those in poverty
as though their lives are unworthy
in the sight of your Lord
like the dust on the gourd
“As the least of these, so you treat me.”
When entering politics it is a must
To embrace the expected cut and thrust
And as you ascend the greasy pole
And and hide how you’ve sold your soul
Don’t be surprised if you end up dust.
Dance Off!
There once was a skeleton full of lust
Who boogied with style, he’d no rust
In a dance-off one night
All the crowd got a fright
When he sped past crying, ‘Yea… eat my dust.’
Olaf Sturlasson’s Poetry Corner:
A King thought of as righteously just
Ruled a kingdom that was full of dust
For no-one ever cleaned
All because of the fiend
Who for cleanliness had such disgust.
Being dyslectic means often that I dust cannot spell
But dust because of thet
does not mean I am a pratt
I can express myself quite well
As long as I don’t have to writ it down and spell.
Those teachers that mock me and call me thick
The bastards
They make mi sic.
Skeleton Boogaloo
In an old graveyard, haunted by fright
Dancing skeletons come out at night
Their bones made a clatter
Clouds of dust they did scatter
In the moonlight it was the grooviest sight.
There once was a ghost named McGust,
Whose haunting went slightly non-just—
He tripped on his sheet,
Fell flat in defeat,
Now he’s the one biting the dust!
Dust Bunnies From Hell
Headache headache, red eye surprise
Can’t let the dust be my demise
Vacuum, polish
Monday afternoon
Sadly this happens only once
in a blue moon
Sneezy peazy
coughie gonie
dust bunny demon
be gone
Cuz you been
exorcised
***
Esther Chilton 
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