There once was a man from Paree
Who could bring all the girls to their knees,
His name was not schleep,
In fact it was Depp,
And we all would beg for a squeeze.

Posted by Edgy Mama at April 17, 2006 9:06 PM

A girl who looked like a fox,
Had trouble buying her socks,
For her feet were bear paws,
Complete with sharp claws-
Even so, she totally ROCKS!

Posted by Amy-GO at April 18, 2006 9:23 AM

We all love a doggy named Horace.
Just list' to the praise-singing chorus!
If he's naughty or mean,
doesn't matter - we're keen!
And we hope you'll write more stories for us.

Posted by DebR at April 18, 2006 10:22 AM

A totem that's cast out of pewter,
now tell me - what could be cuter?
Send it here double-time
to stop Deb's bad rhyme.
It'll be like a button to mute her!

Posted by DebR at April 18, 2006 11:26 AM

Intimidation might get what I need-o.
Perhaps that should be my new credo!
If you like my poems best
then I need not request
the help of a hulk name of Guido.

Posted by DebR at April 18, 2006 11:38 AM

My last limerick went a bit far.
I know threats cannot make me a star!
Please accept my remorse
toward you and your horse.
Can I buy you a drink at the bar?

Posted by DebR at April 18, 2006 12:00 PM

Man, ya'll are just TOO SWEET. My limericks were all a little, er... bawdy.

Avert thine eyes; here it goes:

There once was a call-girl named Lily
Who know how to charm a man's willy.
She'd do him up right,
Kick him into the night,
And add a new coin to her tilly.

Posted by Africableu at April 18, 2006 3:50 PM

It wouldn't be terribly witty
two write a short little ditty
for the author who
should be told, "'Tis true!
we really think you're pretty!

Posted by Karry at April 18, 2006 8:16 PM

Scatalogical, eh? Well, if we must, we must...

Toilet (for Professor Widmer)

The toilet, it's true, is a throne,
though the king who reigns sits alone.
He comes in ev'ry day
and does what he may,
plopping down laws with harsh tone.

Posted by jess at April 18, 2006 8:49 PM

A fox in the mail would be keen
If a winning poem could I glean
To wit I must say
A bribe I would pay
To a Limerick-Writing Queen.

Posted by Patricia at April 18, 2006 11:11 PM

On the 3rd of July in '06
in the stores is a book we'll all pick.
If the critics don't love it
we'll tell them to shove it,
'Cause that would just prove that they' very nice or smart people.


Posted by DebR at April 19, 2006 9:47 AM

Some limericks I write are just mean
Others can be quite obscene
I really should quit
Because I must admit
I'm having problems with PG-13

Posted by monkey! at April 19, 2006 5:06 PM

There was a young lady who liked Josh a lot
She thought the writer quite hit the spot
The lass went to bed
With a dream in her head
Of a fox arriving in the mail slot.

Posted by patricia at April 20, 2006 1:59 PM

I once wrote a poem for a box
In which I had hoped was a fox
I did search my booze
Looking for muse
Which quite frankly is on the rocks.

Posted by Patricia at April 20, 2006 1:59 PM

Oh to have a good sounding verse
If only what I write wasn't terse
To go out on a limb
And be a bit more prim
Pity, I am only making things worse.

Posted by Patricia at April 20, 2006 2:00 PM

A pretty young woman named Joss,
Who often liked to emboss,
Turned her talent to fiction
Delighted all with her diction,
Without it, much laughter'd be lost.

Posted by Edgy Mama at April 20, 2006 4:51 PM

There once was a young girl called Nonny
Whose totem was furry and tawny
Her mother, Ms Frett
Carved her likeness, and let
The the world see her child quite bonny.

Posted by Kismet at April 21, 2006 1:36 PM

There once was a hubby named, Scott
Who refused the whole family a "Spot"
No doggie would do
Because of the pooh
So gerbils were all that they got.


Posted by Miss Audrey at April 23, 2006 12:46 AM