Limerick Heaven Poems | Limerick Poems About Heaven
These Limerick Heaven poems are examples of Limerick poems about Heaven. These are the best examples of Limerick Heaven poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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There once was a husband in heaven
His faults per hour averaged seven
In spite of all of his rot
His wife would scold not
Ah, this husband was living in heaven!
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Off to the Church this Cowboy went
For Sunday to him was Heaven sent
But as he took to his pew
Suddenly into their view
Beelzebub, he, now present
Imagine the screaming now starting
To the exits they're simply departing
But this Cowboy remains
Against Beelzebub's deign
Oh the odours of the leaving farting
To the Cowboy, Beelzebub says
In a broken down language display
Are you frightened of me
Am I stronger than thee
Not really, who do you think you portray
For Satan I am, but you never have fears
No matter what I say, leaves you no tears
So simply, what can it be
That your not scared of thee
I've been married to your sister for years
I imagine a place where all writers
Are gathered soon after they die;
I know it's true, (it's in my dreams too)
So never do I need ask why.
There sit Dickens and Clements and Doyle,
All sharing a pint at the bar,
While Shelley and Poe exchange stories of woe
And watch all the joy from afar.
Watch Mister Keats dance a ditty
While Hemmingway drums to keep time,
And old Mother Goose peers down from her roost;
A brief pause from writing her rhymes.
All these writers of stories and poems,
Too many of them to number
Share and remember their stories forever
In spite of their physical slumber.
I see them watching their stories
Being read over the generations;
It brings them pride that their works survived
And are shared throughout all the nations.
But one thing that brings them amusement
Is to see people study so long;
To explain the intent or what their words meant
when there is no meaning all along.
Sometimes our words have a message.
Sometimes we want to impart
All of our feelings and memories and reelings
To those who share in our heart.
Is it possible some words have no meaning.
What if we simply write what we dream?
And someday, somehow, people will vow
To figure out what my words might mean.
While up in Writer's Heaven, I'll laugh and sing
Because it won't mean anything.
I once thought you had been heaven sent,
but now you bring all this mad ferment.
Your crazy emotions
and endless commotions
tell me we were never heaven meant.