I have an unfortunate condition that causes my brain to excrete limericks. So I can speak to the composition of limericks from considerable experience, although with what expertise you will have to judge for yourself.
Most of my limericks I have been kind enough to spare the world, but forty or so are posted to PoetrySoup, and some of these are given as examples below. I use my own not (solely) because I am self-centered, but because I can speak definitively to how they were composed and do not need to be concerned with copyright or offending other poets.
All of the limericks presented here, and posted to my PoetrySoup page, fall under the sub-genre of “clean limericks”. I could produce others that aren’t, but prefer not to, particularly in view of the fact that PoetrySoup is for all age groups. In any case, compositional technique for limericks, the focus here, does not depend much on the genre.
In my practice, at least, limericks have three aspects, and a particular limerick has to be good in at least one of them to be worth writing down. These are humor, storytelling, and wordplay. I will discuss these individually, and then how they come together as a limerick is composed.
That limericks are generally humorous raises the question of what humor is, as this affects how limericks should be composed. From one perspective, at least, laughter is the reward we get for detecting contradictions. Humor is a sort of mental training to find things that are not aligned as one would expect, in the harmless environment of a joke. A limerick is like a more pleasant analog to a cold virus, which gives our immune system a test to build strength for more serious diseases.
How do limericks produce contradictions? Most obviously, by describing a situation which is blatantly at odds with the world as we know it. But usually things are taken a step further, and the limerick steps through the ridiculous to dwell on some aspect of the absurd with apparent seriousness. So the contradiction posed to cognition, and the humor, is in that what is superficially serious is really not serious at all. I believe this is the source of the mock seriousness which is very common in limericks.
As an example of “stepping through the ridiculous”, the limerick Aruba ignores the fact that playing a tuba under water is impossible, and instead focuses on the inappropriateness of doing so.
In diving the coast off Aruba,
He thought he would play his best tuba.
The fish thought it odd,
The stingray said “Todd,
That isn’t the way to do scuba.”
And in the below limerick, we step through the fact that dumpster fires do not dance, and instead express surprise that one would do so without a dancing partner.
A flaming contrivance of heat,
The dumpster was quick on its feet.
It danced on its toes,
Though why, no one knows,
A partner it never did meet.
Perhaps a little more subtle is to ignore that one cannot become a Pharaoh by dressing for success, and to instead provide advice for doing so:
The man who a Pharaoh would be
Must dress for success to the T.
The hair 'neath his chin
Must wrap round his shin:
It cannot be just to the knee!
Or to ignore that it is not surprising that pigeons do not have hair, and to imply instead that it needs careful explanation:
The pigeons of Trafalgar Square
Are feathered, yet lacking in hair.
They'd look erudite,
With wigs powdered white,
But wouldn't get up in the air.
Turning to storytelling, from one viewpoint a limerick is a very short short story. The ubiquity of storytelling – that it has occurred in all societies throughout time – tells us that it is not simply arbitrary entertainment: it plays some important role in our lives. I believe stories came into existence because they provide us a simplified framework to think about life: what is happening to us, or may happen to us, and how to deal with it. So the storytelling part of a limerick has to do with creating a concise view of some part of life. Generally through providing a metaphor for some topic that affects us.
For instance, The Gliding Swan is a metaphor for the importance of work:
A swan, when it's gliding along,
Its feet are both pedallin' strong.
It's not what you see
That brings things to be,
It's work that puts King in the Kong.
But generally, it is better not to make the point so explicit. The better goal is to help people to think, not to tell them what to think.
As an example, The Barstool Melody is about the likelihood of over-estimating under-practiced abilities. One can derive this point if one wants to, but the poem does not require it. And Preparing a Most Daring Dare incapsulates the idea that what is generally a vice, in this case procrastination, can sometimes be a virtue. And Conceiving Himself to Be Dead makes the point that reality is never a stranger: if you don’t go looking for it, it will come looking for you.
The fact that one aspect of limericks is storytelling means that it is possible for a limerick to be entirely serious. While this may seem as oxymoronic as a humorous sonnet, an example is The Father of Two.
Though frazzled and flummoxed and frayed,
Still, none of it all would he trade.
The father of two
Knew not what to do,
But knew that in love he was paid.
We come to wordplay, which is a big part of limericks, at least as I compose them.
Phrases which might be a cause for embarrassment in other poetic forms are part of the cheerful good humor of limericks. For instance, in Why the Rooster Crows, I wanted the sense of “show off”, but this met neither the meter nor the rhyme. So I converted it to “offily show”, which I would do for nothing except a limerick.
The reason the rooster will crow,
Is not just to offily show.
The sun hits its beak,
Which it thinks unique,
And proudly lets all the world know.
Cupid’s Aim began with the fact that “moose” rhymes with “goose”, although the idea of Justice being blind was also part of its origin. Another limerick began with the rhyme between “goblin” and “wobblin’”.
In some cases, wordplay is the main point. A Man More Patrician Than Not I do not think works particularly well for either humor or storytelling, but I managed to fit four words that rhyme with each other in the last line, which is a personal best, and that is why I posted it.
How does it all come together in composition? In other poetic forms, I tend to start with an idea and/or a mood. But with limericks, it is usually an interesting rhyme or phrase, or a word challenge. I build out from there, looking for a way to bring in humor and storytelling.
As an example of the full process, consider The Cheese of Euripides.
Tingling of tongue sent Euripides
Questing a tastier kind of cheese.
"I found cheddar magical,"
Said this poet tragical,
"Sailing the southern antipodes.”
This began with the challenge of creating a limerick in which the major rhyme was on the name “Euripides”. This has the characteristic that it ends with three stressed syllables in a row. Possible matching rhymes that came to mind were “antipodes” and “kind of cheese”. That the latter is rather forced is part of the fun of limericks, in my view.
Then, so that Euripides was not simply a random name, I wanted to fit in that he was a tragic poet. That led to the rhyme in the third and forth lines between “magical” and “tragical”, where again the fact that “tragical” is strained I see as a benefit for a limerick, although it would be a detraction for other poetic forms.
With those fixed points, it was a matter of weaving something out of it. There are various ways to go: the goal is to find a path that does the best job of providing humor, a story, and wordplay.
Usually there are multiple options, and one way to choose between them is to look for alliteration (repeated initial consonants) or other things that make the verse prettier. Hence “tingling of tongue” and “sailing the southern”.
It is good to find ways to strip out low-impact words to make room for more interesting ones. The second line could have been “In quest of a finer kind of cheese”. Note that this has nine syllables, necessary to match the first line. But if we drop “in”, “of” and “finer”, we save four syllables; adding one by changing “quest” to “questing” produces a net reduction of three syllables. That is just what we need to insert “tastier”, which gives the line more impact, in my opinion; it also adds to the alliteration in the first line.
Keep looking for small improvements. For instance, “the poet”, “this poet” or “that poet”? Originally, I had “the poet”, but concluded that “this poet” both sounds better and has more immediacy.
Practice! Per The Gliding Swan and Barstool Melody, a better result takes more work.
My limericks, with commentary, are collected in Original Clean Limericks available from Amazon.