Acrostic Limericks 30

© Can Stock Photo & damedeeso used with permission

Many examples of acrostic poems can be found scattered around the web (where the first letter of each line spells out a word when read from top to bottom), but I have found very few examples of acrostic Limericks.

I now look out for prompts that contain five letters (or ten, fifteen or… let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh?). I may add the odd one of my own, too.

Let me know what you think.

Just one this week:


For Kristian (

There once was a young politician
Escaped from the strictures patrician.
No lawmakers can
Detain this young man,
Especially when he’s on a mission.

Regardless how oft he abstains,
No mere vote can stop his campaigns.
Even his friend
Said this is the end,
Some day he’ll be locked up in chains!


For Kristian (

Smirk just as much as you please
My resolve will be strengthened with ease.
If you think you’re smart,
Reply from your heart;
Know this: I like pickle with cheese!


For Esther (

How often have you seen a ghost?
Asked Marvin, our affable host.
Until we convene
No-one will have seen
The house that is haunted the most.

Anyone care to join in?

Snow laughing matter.

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“You’ve been gone a long time – I’ve been worried.”

“That’s sweet of you, but there was no need; I’m well wrapped up.”

“Where’s the car?”

“Sorry. I had to abandon it. The road hasn’t been gritted yet and I got bogged.”

“How deep?”

“It was about twenty-five centimetres deep on the road, but there’s sheet ice underneath.”

“That’s why we went to the expense of putting winter tyres on. They’re supposed to be brilliant in the snow – and on ice.”

“No point in telling me that. I read the write-up same as you did, Tell them – they obviously didn’t get the memo.”

“Did you drive the way I told you to?”

“No, darling. I hoofed it in first gear. What do you think I am – stupid?”

“No, of course not, I just can’t understand why they didn’t give you any grip. Anyway, where is the car now?”

“Where I left it, obviously. Roger’s towing it back on the back of his tractor this afternoon. Apparently we’re fifteenth on his list.”

“So it wasn’t just you then?”

“Did you think it was? Do you think everyone else managed to sail through the snow except your wife? My God, you have a low opinion of me sometimes.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Do I?”

“You should do. How long have we been married?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Yes I do, That was a rhetorical question.”

“Okay, but what is a rhetorical question, when you come down to it?”

“Drop it! How far were you from the shop when you get stuck?”

“About half way there.”


“And I knew how important it was to get your stuff, so I walked the two kilometres there and the four kilometres home again.”

“You walked six kilometres through deep snow? At least that explains why you took so long. So – did you get my stuff?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Why not?”

“The shop was shut – apparently none of the staff could get in.”


“You heard.”

“Why couldn’t they—”

“Which part of impassable are you having trouble understanding?!”

This was written in response to Kreative Kue 295 published on this site.


Kreative Kue 295

Kreative Kue 294 asked for submissions based on this photograph:

DSCF0248aJohn W Howell is a multiple nominated and award-winning author who blogs at Fiction Favorites. Details of John’s books can be found on his Amazon author page

Bus Stop by John W. Howell © 2021

“Where is our bus?”

“I don’t see it.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t have a clue. Maybe we can catch another.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a lunch break.”

“Yeah, me too. Looks like it was just a quick stop. I told you we should have gotten a translation book.”

“This rain isn’t going to make it any more comfortable.”

“The fact that I’ve grown webbing between my toes should tell us something.”


“Just joking. It’s been raining so much. I think we are going to need to tread water soon.”

“So, back to the bus. What should we do?”

“Hold on, I have the tour operator’s card here. Let me call them.”

“Oh, thank heavens. Yes, call them.”

“Hello. This is McGee calling. Bob McGee. We are stranded at a bus stop. How soon for the next bus? You’re kidding? Yeah, we know that now. Yes, sure, put us on that one. Isn’t there anything sooner? Okay then. Thanks. Bye.”

“So that didn’t sound good.”

“The next bus is tomorrow at this time.”

“Twenty four hours in this jungle outpost? There’s no place to sleep.”

“Well, we will just have to make due. The guy said we should never have gotten off the bus.”

“That makes me feel so much better knowing that. So what do you suggest?”

“What do you have in that bag?”

“My dirty red bandana and my harmonica.”

“Perfect. We are saved.”

“How so?”

“I’ll just thumb a diesel down before the next rain, and we’ll sing songs to the driver. We’ll sing every song the drive knows.”

“You sayin’ the windshield wipers will be slapping time?”

“Now, you’ve got it.”

“Gee, Bobby. It does sound good.”

“We are making memories, kiddo. The kind where you might want to trade all your tomorrows for a single yesterday.”

“You have such a way with words, Bobby. Put out that thumb, and let’s get going.”

Thanks to Mystery and SciFi author M.Garnet (website: for this short story

I stand here and watch the rain that now is slowing and leaving the air clean and the ground dirty mud. I can see a few people moving around, but I can’t join them. I am not of them as I am a killer, a predator and they are food.

It is important that I resist and not show my hunger and here under this roof in the darkness, my dark eyes can just hide and see but not be seen.

I have a choice, as I watch the few confused stranded travelers move around trying to decide if they can find a ride away from this wet and desolate place. I need for only one or two that get separated and alone.

I seem to be a female to those who look at me, harmless and not of any interest. That is part of my disguise. But my hunger is not great as I have had found one person who had wandered away. He was behind the buses and into the wet trees and heavy bushes during the rain. All hunched over as he relieved him self. But he was also full of drugs so I did not drink deeply, just enough to sate my first need.

Now I wait for another. I wonder if they will miss him. If they all leave, I will be left here in this damp forest to wait for the next group of buses. This is a dismal place.

Perhaps that young man there will go off by himself. Being alone is a curse. I wait here back under the roof out of the damp.

My effort was:


Rayne. Why did my parents have to give me that name? And, in the eternal game of post hoc ergo propter hoc, which is post and which propter?

Why am I asking that? Look outside. What’s it doing?

Exactly. It’s raining. It’s always raining. I can’t ever remember it not raining.

I know it wasn’t raining here yesterday or today, before I arrived. And before you ask: yes, I did bring the weather with me. Everywhere I go, I always bring the weather with me. That’s why I’m asking the question. Did they call me Rayne because the rain always follows me, or does the rain always follow me because I’m called Rayne?

It may very well be a philosophical question to you; you don’t have to live with it. Tell me: where do you like to go on holiday?

Okay, maybe you do prefer a different place each time, but what is the common element, the thread that ties them together? Altitude? Language? Architectu—

Of course, weather. Any particular kind of weather?

As I thought. Dry and sunny. Do you know where I go for my holidays?

Then I’ll tell you. I don’t. I never go anywhere on holiday.

Why not? Because I know it will rain. It always rains.

Isn’t it obvious? It rains because I’m there. Tell you what. Would you like me to come on holiday with you on year?

Why not?

So you do believe me, then?


Okay, let’s hear your idea.

Mm hmm.

Uh huh.

You know what? You might just have something there.

I’ve heard that, too. Have you noticed that they pray earnestly for rain, but how many of them believe in the power of their prayers to the extent that they take a brolly with them?

Precisely. So now—

Exactly. And I’ll bet they’d pay me to visit them for a few days, wouldn’t they?

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On to this week’s challenge: Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next Monday.