A series of (non-acrostic) limericks produced in response to various prompts.
These will appear on Saturday mornings wherever possible.
Let me know what you think.
Rogue 1’s not proper Star Wars,
Too much of it is filmed indoors.
I’d rather the deck
Of a ship on Star Trek,
If you don’t think I’m right, then up yours.
There once was a devilish plot
To abscond with the lott’ry jackpot.
Twas said the magician;
A noted patrician;
Would like it, but just not a lot.
You complain that my language is blue;
That I don’t give a fig about you.
I’m one of those folk
You shouldn’t provoke;
I can’t guarantee what I’ll do.
His surroundings were most ostentatious,
His appetites somewhat salacious.
Much of his life
He spent with his wife
In circumstances quite vexatious.
Linguistic nitpickers will say
Of the use of our language today,
If you believe abject
Is obverse of subject,
You must live in the U S of A.
My toes are secured to the ceiling;
They say it will help with my healing.
But all I can say
After nearly a day
Is my feet have lost all of their feeling.
I piled so much food on my plate,
That I ended up being farctate.
If that is a word
That you’ve never heard,
You’re far from the only one, mate!