Happy Monday to you all. Here’s a new limerick challenge. Your word is
SNACKS
Last week’s prompt was LITTER. You came up with some thoughtful limericks:
Nicola Daly:
My old gran loved to bedazzle with glitter
She was also a bit of a knitter
She made jumpers galore
Until we shouted ‘No more!
We’d prefer you to put out the litter!’
One Wondrous Now
Be not bitter. Don’t litter away
all the moments, those nows, when you play,
since those nows are one now.
There’s just one anyhow
and that one wondrous now is today.
The object of every side-splitter
Is to gladden a neurotransmitter,
But most of my japes
Resemble sour grapes,
And end up like so much leaf litter.
Squirreljan:
Horace was the high king of litter pickers
Who once found an old pair of cami-knickers
Whilst trawling up and down
The streets of London town
Ignoring taunts from all the tarts and vicars.
There was a young lad who dropped litter,
but he just couldn’t stop, not a quitter;
he threw so much trash,
that he came out in a rash,
now they call him ‘The Rubbish-Boy, Zitter!
When You’re the Smallest Child
I once had a babysitter
Who said not to be a quitter.
It was good advice, you see
For someone like me,
Who was the runt of the litter.
I have assumed the Ruler’s role
And to think otherwise would be droll,
Not to mention demeaning…
Now my litter needs cleaning
And it’s time that you fill up my bowl!!!
The box was full of glitter
And the cat began to twitter
Humans are tarts
They have no smarts
And can’t seem to find real litter.
An obese woman found an ad in her mail litter,
Certain weight loss called “Don’t Be a Quitter”.
“What the heck.”, she sighed,
Later found out it lied,
‘Cuz “one-size for all” now doesn’t fit her!
There once was a spider named Skitter
Who was always in a perpetual twitter.
He worked hard on his web,
Hoping to catch a celeb.
But Garfield’s only interest was his litter.
Well my sister was terribly bitter
When the cat next door had a big litter.
Baby gingers were cute,
Blacks and whites were a hoot,
But the tabby one turned round and bit her.
Rall:
stop creating these paintings they’re litter
artwork wont make you money and fitter
go to a gym get real slim and trim
airheads do well when they jitter and flitter
My queenie cat just had a litter,
Of kittens, now I need a cat sitter
To look after those lots
Of meowing young tots
And I’ll listen to their paws pat and pitter!
Murray Clarke:
I think I’ve found a better way to get fitter.
Before you ask, it’s not drinking bitter!
Or making love, I hear you titter –
I’ve tried that – it got caught in my zipper!
No! I’ve decided to simply bend down and . . .
Pick up litter!
There once was a litter bin
That had hardly anything in:
It was in the wrong place
So it’s saving grace
It was always as bright as a pin.
MeWow
They said she was a special kitty
Expressed herself in ways most witty
For instance, she would dine on glitter
Which of course, sparkled in her litter
And although it stunk it was pretty.
Loss
I’m not the kinda gal to grow bitter,
Yet each loss is like paint thinner.
It stirs things inside,
Leaving dross on the side
Then essence stays – like a soft, golden litter.
He governs his subjects on twitter
With tweets without meaning, though bitter.
This serial raper
Leaves nothing on paper
I suppose he is saving on litter.
Litter Louts
Don’t like litter dropped next to a bin
Why not pick it up, place it within
Don’t leave mess everywhere
Have a thought, take some care
Be responsible, everyone wins.
What a Mess!
A cat turned up looking so sad
Then she brought up the litter she’d had
Quickly found I was smitten
With cute little kittens
Who’ve grown up and driven me mad.
I hired a trainer to try and get fitter
I stuck it out, as I’m no quitter.
But soon enough I had to stop.
His constant chat was so much rot
And down wind he smelt like our moggy’s litter.
Litter-bug
There once was a gnome called Clyde,
Who would toss his litter far and wide,
He threw away his banana peel,
Then slipped – but didn’t look too gentile
When he landed on his tubby backside.
Olaf Sturlasson’s Poetry Corner:
There was an old grouch who was bitter
And complained about those dropping litter
He said pack it in
Put it straight in the bin
So they filled his bin home full of glitter.
The Old Woman
The old woman swallowed the litter
She covered her mouth with a titter
That made her choke
And the old man woke
He pounded her back and made her a spitter.
Willow was pick of the litter,
a valuable pedigree critter.
But one chance encounter
with my crossbreed bounder
left her owner seething and bitter.
A south African exile in London got a litter
It was to tell him his cat was getting better
Six delightful kittens had been born into her litter
And that’s why his south African mother wrote the litter
Brad was a jovial bathroom fitter
Who liked to share his work on Twitter
It’s said he had a superpower
With a bath tub and a shower
But not for picking up his litter.
A Cat Named Miss Glitter
There once was a cat named Miss Glitter,
Who fancied her box made of litter.
She’d dig and she’d play,
In a most stylish way—
A true little diva, no quitter!
Miss Piggy is a fabulous critter
She sprinkles herself with glitter
But on the night of her big debut
The audience began to boo
She would dance leaving behind glitter litter.
~
The audience began to titter
But Miss Piggy was not a quitter
She flung sparkles left and right
But those prudes were still uptight
So she sashayed off through the litter.
Garbage to Some, Treasure to Others
Oh look at that 4 legged critter
Munching on what looks like a fritter
More thrown from the window of that car
The road has become one giant snack bar
Oh what the hell, that’s some darn tasty litter !!!
Dumpster Diving
There once was a raccoon named Critter
Whose passion for litter made him flitter.
In dumpsters of trash
He’d have a big bash
And his antics made everyone titter!
A detective examined cat litter,
Noting stains that smelled deathly and bitter.
A paw-shaped dark smear,
Suggested real fear,
Was the suspect a killer named Tigger?
There was a stylish lady called Nore
who had a chic cat named Dior –
litter tray… latest fad,
but Alas!… they still had
to sweep the posh sand off the floor.
From a litter of eight I chose you
‘I’ll have the one whose collar is blue’
After thirteen years
Of laughter and tears
Saying goodbye was so hard to do.
i am the runt of the litter
and as the youngest
and only son
spoiled rotten brat
momma s boy
oh boy
oh no
say i was not so!
lmao
***
Esther Chilton 
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