November’s prompt for terribly poeming was brought to you by Jon of Missionary Sojourn, the winner of September’s contest. Jon suggested a clean limerick on lost and found. Without losing another minute, then, let’s find the one who limerick’d best:
All hope’s gone, all is lost.
She loves me, she loves me nost.
I gave her flowers. a sort of red.
They had thorns, so she bled
Out. Now she’s a gost…
Congratulations, TanGental! You are the most terrible poet this month! Let me know what theme and form we’re to use next time.
You may be wondering how I chose a winner out of such excellent entries. I’ll tell you: I don’t know. I’m also wondering how I picked, given that most entries tied for cleverness and included some distinctive element. I believe the winner won me over with that broken/continued line of ‘bled/out’ and with his terrible word choice.
Again; that’s not to say one should only read the winning entry. Peruse all the poetry, below, and see which is your favorite:
There once was a grumpy old man
He lost his way to the can
He turned on the light
And had a huge fright
He’d found a coon and away he did ran
by Ian Kay
I’ve gone lost the end of my limerick
I didn’t know whether I’m dim or thick
I looked down the sofa
But nothin’ yet so far
So how will I finish this poem?
by Ian Kay
A man got a message, it read:
There’s something on the back of yer head!
He put his hand there
But only found hair
And that was the end of the thread
There once was a man from New York,
Who purchased two tons of dead pork.
He wished he had found,
Good beef that was ground.
But lost his chance to a quick dork.
Larry the monkey
I once had a monkey named Larry,
He liked to bite and was hairy,
One day in the park,
He escaped after dark,
And now he belongs to Mary.
I was aimlessly fooling around
When I fell from my boat and then drowned
Deprived thus of breath
Woke in life after death
Simultaneously lost and yet found
There once was a man from Straya
As a walker he was a fair dinkum stayer
Went past the Black Stump and beyond it
Got lost, fell into a billabong, it
Was a shame his swimming was a failure.
Straya – rendition of ‘Australia’ by many Australians, similar to Americans who live in ‘Mecca’
Fair dinkum – genuine
Black Stump – mythical far distant place where civilisation ends (along with American spelling) and the unknown begins
Billabong – an isolated pond left behind after a river changes course
by Frank Hubeny
There once was a writer of verse
Who got lost as his writing got worse.
He was found by the bay
Singing songs of dismay:
La-dee-loose la-dee-lease la-dee-terse
Write a clean limerick, they promptly said!
But I’ve found clean limericks are rarely read,
A limerick ploughs common ground,
Within limericks innuendoes abound,
Something gets lost if cheeks ain’t left red.
A Boy Named Luck
There once was a boy named Luck
Whose folks didn’t give a… HOOT.
“Go jump off da pier
‘n don’t come back ‘roun’ere!”
But they didn’t have that kinda luck.
He brought out the champagne with a blush,
“Bottoms up!” It was down in a rush.
Before he could sing,
She’d swallowed the ring,
Now they gather to scrutinize each flush.
Thank you, terrible poets. Come back at the beginning of January to learn what the new prompt will be!
Geoff: Here’s your slightly-inaccurate badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:
©2022 The poets, and their respective poems. Special thanks to Greg for the cool logo I used as our featured image!