Limerick Write Poems | Examples
These Limerick Write poems are examples of Write poems about Limerick. These are the best examples of Write Limerick poems written by international poets.
there was a cat named mr pretty
who was the leader of his c i t y
with fur soft as silk
a mind sharp and s l i c k
he was far too pretty to get gritty
I feel sad my friend drifted away --- a limerick gave me a laugh.
Should I write of grand romance,
of star-crossed lovers tell?
I've not known enough of that
to really do it well.
Should I write of torrid sex,
hot and steamy affairs?
I'm old enough now to see
that there's no meaning there.
Should I write heroic tales
full of daring and lore?
But what tale could I tell you
that you've not heard before?
Should I write of politics,
get mad and take side?
But most people won't listen
if you're not of their tribe.
Should I paint a word-picture,
delightful imagery?
There's thousands of small poems
on sunset, dawn, and trees.
Should I write a Limerick,
give you the best one yet?
But who could do better than
that man from Nantucket?
...hmm...or....
Should I write of chicken wings?
A bar food mighty fine,
all those great dipping sauces,
but not too hot with mine...
Too much heat buries the flavor.
In this poem..I write.'
of form i cant loose sight'
Its allowed to be slick.'
Even fun' pure delight?
I must use' every ruse; and tact-trick!!
I wrote a poem so darn serious
It seemed my readers went delirious
So I shortened her a bit
Although I have to admit
I rather liked being Miss Tear E. Ous
Dad writes articles chock-full of stats.
Just refer to his latest on rats!
Both my brothers, my sis,
Mom, and I all say this:
We'd prefer sagas starring cute cats.
Name now one man but Dad who would say,
"Evil rats on no star live" today.
Next, I'll make you say 'WOW!'
with my ana* on cows,
Then my top spot award, I'll display.”
*a collection of noteworthy information
Quote By Poet "The pen is the tongue for many writers."
Welcome to the new twenty-four,
I am laughing on the floor.
Pen you need to change,
tongue you need to rearrange.
No talking just write a lot more.
I’ve travelled back in time to meet with William Shakespeare
My research turned up something and it’s that that brought me here
He was meant to be so clever
And I need to find out whether
It’s true that he can even write if he is full of beer
I understand he wrote a sonnet standing on his head
And scrawled a limerick while he was falling out of bed
He’d write while he was pulling weeds
He’d write while he was sowing seeds
And even during cuddles with his wife, or so she said
My Time Machine took many years to build and then perfect
So I could check out facts too long ago to recollect
With thirty-eight plays; give or take
I’ll prove that Shakespeare was a fake
I think perhaps old Shakespeare led some kind of weirdo sect
So here I am in Shakespeare’s house, where Anne is baking cakes
He’s writing, judging by the sound a quill on paper makes
Anne said, “My Bill is writing now,
His quill makes that unholy row
I’ll ask him to come talk to you… as soon as he awakes.”
There lived this kind, gentle poet who rhymed
Her verses and jingles were so well-timed
Then she tried simple free verse
Lines that would’ve made saints curse
Poetry formed with writing so mistimed
~ Inside-Out Limerick ~
Darkness, fear and fright
Here it is, late at night
I unfurl my quill amidst the chill
Returns once again the thrill
Of terror I write ~ mythic rite
there was a girl named Alice
preferred to write while braless
wrote poems by rules
while wearing her mules
her fingers were getting a callous
the contest rules were too hard
needed written by a true bard
she wrote anyway
hoping that one day
someone would say “blank card!”
her happy chance came from John
who meant just write for the fun!
a simple contest
wrote her very best
her ideas were simply spawn
judgement day came much too fast
she had to enter her cast
it was simply judged
nothing had been fudged
she felt her freedom at last!
You try to teach but don’t listen,
talking all over me again;
Threw up that riddle
from a high pedestal;
Tossed it to a wordsmith, I win.
You may think me a bit of a jerk,
and I thought I knew how this stuff worked,
but my Soup emails dash
right straight into the trash,
and it’s making me a tad berserk!
For a somewhat articulate guy,
that was clear as the mud in my eye.
as a clarification
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Bubba said as he let out a sigh...
Playing a game of connect the dots
my pen is alive with wild thoughts;
May say I don’t play nice
I just ignore that voice;
Flying without writing prompts
‘Do not disturb’ sign on my phone,
the struggle is real with time zones;
Too tired to feel alive
can’t miss this Instagram Live,
maybe I will just send in my clone.