h a l f b a k e r yStill more entertaining than cricket.
add, search, annotate, link, view, overview, recent, by name, random
news, help, about, links, report a problem
browse anonymously,
or get an account
and write.
register,
|
|
|
Please log in.
Before you can vote, you need to register.
Please log in or create an account.
|
Have a go at writing a meaningful and witty limerick for a regular half-baker, and see what other people write about you!
To start:
A half-baker, waugsqueke so named,
For his wittiness, oft was he famed,
But his banter was marred,
By bad puns, the false bard,
For which
he should feel quite ashamed.
<yes, I know, hello Mr Pot.....>
(?) instead of limericks or haikus...
http://en.wikipedia.../wiki/Double_dactyl
... just for a change [pertinax, Oct 27 2011]
Limerick reference
http://poetry-magaz...etry-004/08page.htm
5 lines, AABBA, 3/3/2/2/3 feet, Anapestic meter [csea, Dec 08 2011]
[link]
|
| |
When coming to the 1/2B to visit,
PeterSealy's links can be exquisite,
But don't make a mistake,
Or he'll declare you quite "Baked",
Qui extremum risit optime risit! |
|
| |
A halfbaker is Susen, indeed,
Horses and insight she'll breed,
You may think "no harm!"
'Til she speaks of her farm,
And goes on 'til your eyes do bleed. |
|
| |
He's both a stew and a mouse (so he saith).
And we're all glad he came here and stayeth.
For a soup made of 'taters,
He's a master debater
When it comes to the matters of faith. |
|
| |
While surfing one day without thought,
Into our web came Mihali and got caught,
He tried to resist,
To cease and desist,
But was overcome by the PeterSealyBot. |
|
| |
Often this baker be critical,
With a keen mind, always analytical,
He quickly sifts through the dregs,
He's neither chicken nor egg,
And speaks only of things most veridical.
[fixed. I like now. :) alternatively, try 'And avoids arguments proselytical.'] |
|
| |
unabubba always has a good rhyme
his poems and songs we enjoy for a time
but puns in this fashion
are really his passion
he never struggles to write that fifth line.
|
|
| |
...like i do.| — | mihali,
May 09 2001, last modified May 10 2001 |
|
|
| |
Our well-seasoned baker most venerable,
Has prodigious ideas innumerable,
To this self-proclaimed coot,
Chef hats off in salute,
For rayfo, baker insurmountable. |
|
| |
Really, goff, thanks for this post,
It's keeping some bakers engrossed,
You've got my vote "for",
And I'm reasonably sure,
PeterSealy can't turn you to toast. |
|
| |
Thank you, my friend, waugsqueke,
I appreciate your fine critique,
Now if I could get Stew,
To do a rewrite or two,
I wouldn't feel quite so bleak..... |
|
| |
absterge is a baker fantastic,
his responses are most enthusiastic,
he's happy to add,
thoughts, good and bad,
without being too bombastic. |
|
| |
(capitalization avoided out of respect to subject :-) |
|
| |
As a newbie, I argued quite long
With UnaBubba (smart but headstrong)
He called me a prat
And it's moments like that
That caused me to know I belong |
|
| |
Susen, please don't be sad!
In writing, best intentions I had,
That's part of your charm,
These tales of your farm
(And now I feel like a cad!) |
|
| |
The halfbaker Susen's so neat
Without her we'd be incomplete
Her notes are a prize
Both funny and wise
And sometimes they're anti-concrete. |
|
| |
Dear PotatoStew you are truly a gent,
From your new verse it's quite evident,
Don't feel too bad,
I'm sure it's ironclad,
That others share your original sentiment! |
|
| |
(since riposte has asked for New Gods for modern living----someone else can add the link---....how about a god and goddess of the halfbakery?.....) |
|
| |
All Hail UnaBubba, god of Bakers,
Poets, pedants, protagonists, peacemakers,
All acknowledge his reign,
And feel small and mundane,
For we are but mortal bread makers. |
|
| |
Of course, Jutta is goddess supreme,
And reigns over all as the queen,
With her shield and her sword,
She is most adored,
For serving us halfbaked cuisine. |
|
| |
UnaBubba, your humbleness is well said,
But, I'll add to the pantheon instead,
With a wink and a nod,
I'll make PeterSealy the god,
Of delicious, nutritious, BAKED bread! |
|
| |
If laughter be medicine prime,
Ye bakers will have me some time,
Forever I howl,
At ideas most fowl,
And limericks insane and sublime. |
|
| |
absterge i thought you're like me
"no capitals!" you've said, see?
your limerick shows
you've a while to go
to learn lower case's intricacy.
|
|
| |
susen your rhymes are just great
especially when you syncopate
when i read your best
i feel it in my chest
but i think it was just something i ate. <burp!>
|
|
| |
you 'bakers have been nice all told
to have accepted me into your fold
but all this fun
means less work done
i wish i could put you on hold.
|
|
| |
It seems we're neglecting some friends,
degroof, Starchaser, and sirrobin,
Thumbwax, acb,
Dog Ed, Uncle Nutsy,
It's time to start making amends! |
|
| |
And how could I forget Beauxeault?
Guerilla baker, quid pro quo,
There's 1% still,
And DrBob to reveal,
It's amazing how many I know! |
|
| |
mihali, you've misconstrued,
The intention to which I allude,
Was only for me.
Capitalize properly,
But my name from your rule set exclude.
(you see?) |
|
| |
*g* that last bit defies rigid limerick structure, I suppose, but it fit the meter and the rhyme, so it stays. |
|
| |
Though nothing's new under the sun
We post our ideas in fun
I know it's not serious
But I'm really curious
Why is Panic PIN still #1?
|
|
| |
The problem, you see, is so true,
Panic PIN's votes number one-oh-two,
As top of the list,
It keeps getting hits,
When viewed by somebody new. |
|
| |
It's a crime! This list of "best"!
For it gives no chance to the rest,
But we need a way,
Our purpose to convey,
And this list is good for the guests..... |
|
| |
absterge i'm sorry, you're right
please let's not start a fight
my apology here
i've written clear
thanks for helping me see the light.
|
|
| |
Well I'm not into idea wars
If I were that keen on my scores
I'd give a dead fish
To all on the list
Above "Use Bizarre Metaphors" |
|
| |
GlobalT, I'm glad you feel you belong,
But, dude, have you got it wrong!
Your "Bizarre" idea was cute,
And, yes, quite a hoot,
But not as funny as Zippy's "Chicken Bong"! |
|
| |
Susen, I'm loathe to protest
HB items don't make the list
But I've no problem noting
Fishbone's how I'm voting
Your suspect iamb anapest |
|
| |
GT, I'm seeing a theme...
I fear you have low self-esteem...
Who cares what's "best"?
Don't get so obsessed,
It's just fun to be part of the team! |
|
| |
I have great sense of worth, yes it's true:
Though I'm a contemptible fool
Not worth much attention
Not even a mention
I still think I'm better than you
|
|
| |
(PS: I sure hope I don't have to use any markup language with these brilliant pieces of poetic expression to indicate facetiousness.....) |
|
| |
Susen thanks for the thanks, I'll admit,
I'd never have thought that I'd sit,
For ten minutes or more,
Reading score ofter score,
What a blue touch paper I lit!
(yeah, the last line doesn't scan but there you go..)
|
|
| |
But I'm sorry to see that despite,
All the obvious half-baker delight,
That my vote tally stands,
At just six well raised hands,
And I voted as well, it's not right!
|
|
| |
(well, this is the first decent idea I've had!) |
|
| |
Sorry, I'd been too busy appreciating to vote. You now have seven. |
|
| |
I've come to this late, and its vision
quite admirable, has an omission.
Pray, let me submit,
with my usual slow wit,
our dear angel as my addition. |
|
| |
The halfbakers said, 'write a poem.'
And so I figured I'd show 'em.
Thought I had licked
This Limerick,
But what the heck rhymes with 'poem?' |
|
| |
Frappe, frappe!
Qui est la?
Losty
Losty qui?
Oui
|
|
| |
My first days here were most debated
Some thought by lg I was created
Now this guy from Louisiana
Even won a BT-Y-ANA
But...I just may have been reincarnated.....
;-) |
|
| |
I am really quite fond of this place,
Where the rats find relief from the race,
But if I get caught by the prof,
I'll most likely be offed,
For I fear he won't much like my taste. |
|
| |
<not a limerick> I see a ~lot~ of these coming up about me... </not a limerick> |
|
| |
Young Nick, said (by him) to be Great
Has more fishbones than bread on his plate
He'd not get such a roasting
If he'd *think* before posting
And not make other bakers irate |
|
| |
Extra syllable in last line? Or am I saying it wrong?
Looks like I need an HB mentor to guide me to true greatness. Agree? |
|
| |
There once was a Great man called Nick
Some bakers considered him thick
He asked for some verse
But that made things worse
And he better apologise quick. |
|
| |
(Although I guess we should appreciate him having a name that rhymes easily.) |
|
| |
What, 'Great'?
I'm still dreading two inevitable combinations.........
Oh, and I'm sorry. |
|
| |
One name here has been missed:
That of our own dear blissed,
Though normally sweet,
Lest this gap we replete,
Shirley she will get pissed? |
|
| |
Of [Yamahito] I've grown quite fond,
On AIM do we correspond,
He's quick with a joke,
Like all you HalfBaked folk,
and of criticism he is beyond. |
|
| |
[UnaBubba] rules o'er HB land,
Protecting it with a heavy hand,
He ensures that each newb
is no trolling boob
Without him, this site'd be bland. |
|
| |
Dear [thumb] has a taste for trolls,
as the Bakery he diligently patrols,
He'll offer an annotation
for near every occasion
Here, he plays an important role. |
|
| |
I could never forget friend [bliss]
Without whom we'd Shirley be amiss,
She's a wit with the best
Ever ready with a jest,
She cannot be easily dissmiss'd. |
|
| |
One more female baker we know,
Not by poo, poop or doo, just po.
She's good for a laugh,
Or a chuckle or half,
With each clever, witty anno. |
|
| |
Oh Lord, how could I forget
You whom I owe such a debt!
From yamahito
To dearest po:
you're the best teacher I've had yet!
|
|
| |
Farmer
Charmer
smiling fresh face
lives in a nice place
good kharma |
|
| |
At UB I often have laughed
While many a troll he gave shaft:
Odious *_uk
He made to go 'way
with references to a spacecraft |
|
| |
Oh dear, I think I like this game a little *too* much.. |
|
| |
(po: well, you know what I mean..) |
|
| |
Bliss who was gone is now here,
& Susen & Sealy appear.
They've been readjusted,
Had fixed what's been busted,
And now can drink beer through an ear. |
|
| |
I am the baker, NickTheGreat
I make everyone quite irate
I post my ideas
And everyone sneers
— the baker you all love to hate |
|
| |
Oh Nick, that anno is typical
Of those that get us in a pickle,
Although you we don't hate,
You certainly Grate:
So everyone thinks you're a dickle. |
|
| |
The limerics here all refer,
To others, to Him or to Her
Not to your own
For that we bemoan
So buck up or fuck off, dear sir. |
|
| |
This site I did stumble upon
After being randomly drawn;
Doughnuts, Spiders, and Brains,
"A Tagline that's not Lame";
Bizzare mind fodder sure turns me on. |
|
| |
Some folks here don't get NTG.
Call me soft, but he doesn't bug me.
You may think him bland
but please understand
That through all, he's not GTT.
|
|
| |
I fear a Kobayashi Maru
That we're somehow putting Nick through
'though he wrote self-referentially,
no one wrote me correctingly
when I first gave my poem to you.
|
|
| |
Because I realize that, for limericks, my name is prohibitively long, I'd like to remind you all to abbreviate as you see fit-- 'h2Omellon' rhymes easily.
Thanks. |
|
| |
It has been talked of before,
Nick's malady and his cure:
Although now he's puerile,
It may all be worthwhile
If he's given some time to mature. |
|
| |
I'll not forget watermelancholy,
Nor Calum, Sctld, Wax and Molly;
Words often failed me
as each of 'em mailed me,
Making my evening more jolly. |
|
| |
Thanks to thumbwax, blissmiss and po,
waugsqueake, ravenswood, hippo,
DeGroof, Aristotle,
Phoenix, ruby, angel,
forrest, genius and sappho. |
|
| |
And to 8th, XX, Dr Bob-Curry,
reensure, brackforn, Steele, Silly,
tomato, Mephista,
beauxeault, Unabubba,
yamahito, you others and sadie. |
|
| |
I've decided to move this over to poetry where it belongs (now there's a category for it) |
|
| |
Farmer John, you forgot one more thing
What about the famed chicken-like wing?
Sure, it's not made of chicken
but It's still good for lickin'
And why not? Let's read the I-Ching. |
|
| |
Because I was feeling quite bored
I wrote this just to see who adored,
My wit and compassion,
And my trend-setting fashion.
But it seems that my theory is flawed.
|
|
| |
omg, I didn't see this before. I already posted one elsewhere, but let me see... Here you go, DrBob |
|
| |
There once was a poster named Bob
Perhaps he saves lives on his job
His verse is compelling
He must have read Shelley
Since his ancient tomb he did rob
|
|
| |
//Perhaps he saves lives on his job//
Well, I could argue a case to support such a proposition. Having no medical qualifications whatever I guess that I'm saving lives by not being a brain surgeon. |
|
| |
DrBob: It's hard to use PhD in poetry :) |
|
| |
There once was a baker called FJ,
I could read his ideas all day.
Picture's he'll draw.
Of clocks without flaw,
anologue or digital display! |
|
| |
There was once a poet called Fanny |
|
| |
Who was quite unaccountably canny. |
|
| |
She felt life was flawed, |
|
| |
when her verse was heard on the
trannie.* |
|
| |
*nb this is old-fashioned UK slang for a
transistor radio, not for Ediie Izzard : ) |
|
| |
Please listen, my dear Zebedee
These lines are about, not by, thee
When you look above
You'll get meaning of
This limerick category
|
|
| |
I see that you posted,
thiercompetitor
And I jumped on this chance like a
preditor
To write a poem about you
Click 'OK' and be though
In the morning I'll look for an
editor
|
|
| |
As for UnaBubba how should I
begin
In a poetry brawl, surely, you'd win
Or I could post this thought
When you are looking not
Actually, the logic in that's rather
thin
|
|
| |
Where does one start with this sartep
Whose name rhymes with Amenhotep
I dare not take another step
Without my Rhymezone and some prep
|
|
| |
But in the morning I'll return
And try to limerick, not churn
words that maintain the proper beat
Thought it may be no simple feat... |
|
| |
There once was a baker, sartep
No pharaoh, no Amenhotep
For his fancy burial
He wanted an Aerial
He always did walk out of step
|
|
| |
An now from what I see Theircompetitor
retorts
It made me laugh, to him I give credit or
reports
That he can see
It amused me like Rosetta
Cemetery
(You can see the levels rhyming your
name to which one resorts)
|
|
| |
A broken and rusty old door hinge... |
|
| |
(oh wait... can I start again?) |
|
| |
Whilst mining for gold and for silver... |
|
| |
(oops... one more chance please) |
|
| |
The king in his garments of purple... |
|
| |
(I'm not very good at this) |
|
| |
BTW I think "phloem" might rhyme with "poem". |
|
| |
Gamma's contribution made me laugh pretty hard. I'm still
laughing now. |
|
| |
A baker named Gamma, four, eight
For the poetic muses did wait.
Despite some false starts,
He was quite good in parts,
But a failure to rhyme was his fate. |
|
| |
A baker who's handle was Bob,
Once filled out an ad for a job.
An apparent physician,
His face invokes Titian
On account of the hair round his gob! |
|
| |
There once was a baker zen tom
who lived in Dorchester with his mom
each day he did flee
to his computer to see
if his idea was a hit or a bomb. |
|
| |
A baker by name of blissmiss,
Was, in terms of accuracy remiss,
'Cos in London I reside,
Without my Mom by my side,
Though, to be honest, I her, do occasionally miss. |
|
| |
A baker called MaxwellBuchanan
Rode a ball that was shot from a cannon.
He could smell the N-Prize
As he rose through the skies
But the weight was too much with a man on. |
|
| |
When on newbies' ideas I weigh-in,
Tis to [krelnik] I offer this pean,
For his acronym proud,
When I say it out loud:
WTAGIPBAN ! |
|
| |
goodness - its nearly 10 years I've sat here reading this wonderful stuff. I miss some of these people who have got me through a pretty weird decade. |
|
| |
There came from the Land of the Free,
A brave Baker we know as [MikeD],
He's not always around,
But we sleep safe and sound,
'Cos he guards us from our enemies.
|
|
| |
A Halfbaker who goes by [xenzag]
posts conceptual art, that's his bag.
In pursuit of this end
he went right round the bend
C'est la vie. Quelle dommage. What a drag. |
|
| |
674 ideas, and every one of them net positve votes. |
|
| |
A Halfborger named 8th of 7,
from places nowhere near Heaven,
who rides a space ark,
and makes with the snark,
cranking it way past 11. |
|
| |
(Just rhyming. I love your work.) |
|
| |
Near the equator in Kito
There lived a certain Miss Key Toe
Half awake she would stay
Waiting for day
And dreaming of half baked mosquitos
Then one day while munching Doritos
She was pounced on by a leopard (in tuxedo)
a virtual dodo is what saved her
- caught leo's "eye of halfbaker"
And that's how she met FAmos Kito |
|
| |
There is a halfbaker named [2fries]
Though some of us know him as Randy
He bakes with his left-brain
He says he don't bite
His ideas are all bunned-ones
And he's really all right! |
|
| |
(my bun jumped this to the 2.5 acclaim) |
|
| |
Your words are truly an honor.
By trade, and by combat; my brother.
Providence be sweet.
Rest assured we will meet,
either here in this life, or Valhalla. |
|
| |
There once were a pair of Halfbakers
Both of them nasty piss-takers
They fought just like brothers
While all of the others
Ignored their childish capers
|
|
| |
There's a grumpy git called 21,
Who grumbles and whines on and on,
But it's no real surprise
He's got little piggy eyes,
Turns out he's Alterother's son… |
|
| |
A bitcher, a whiner, a moaner.
A misanthropic fish-boner.
A belated request...
Let’s take [21quest]
out the back of the bak'ry and stone her! |
|
| |
Man, I hate to see 'em walk right into a trap that way.
Still, it's not like he doesn't have it coming... |
|
| |
BTW, my limerick was about the Borg and yours truly.
There seems to have been at least one 'Baker who missed
that. |
|
| |
Rcarty rcarty rcarty
Rcarty rcarty
Rcarty rcarty
Rcarty rcarty rcarty
|
|
| |
With the puns, fun, and buns to be won,
an eclectic education,
brain stretching laughs by the tonne,
and folks second to none... |
|
| |
How could I ever pick only one to ryhme on? |
|
| |
Había una chica llamada [Donym],
Quién los Franceses no podías hacer sin,
Con una sonrisa,
Aprisa y lisa:
"Inventamos todo y que es el fin!" |
|
| |
There once was a group of halfbakers,
Whose scansion and rhyming marked them out not
as poets but as fakers.
For lim'ricks the lines
Go 9,9,5,5,9
That's the pattern you need. Something-akers. |
|
| |
According to Maxwell Buchanan
A limerick must stay in canon
His point is not moot
Deserving salute
Let me be the first with my cannon
|
|
| |
Now, let me address dear rcarty
Who seems to be late to the party
You usually need
Real words to succeed
Only thus will your limericks be hearty
|
|
| |
[theircompetitor]'s done something witty
by composing a whimsical ditty,
in which homophones rhyme
(well ... OK, just one time).
The result, il faut dire, is quite pretty. |
|
| |
I thought [rcarty]'s was one of the cleverest, most
orginal, and laugh-out-loud funniest, even if he did miss a
line. |
|
| |
Actually, most of these are pretty riotous, and those that
aren't are still bound to provoke riots, which I can't find
fault with either. |
|
| |
There once was a young man from Crewe
Whose limericks stopped at line two. |
|
| |
There once was a man from Verdunn. |
|
| |
I'll spare you the one about Nero. |
|
| |
There once was a call for a list
Which the admin appeared to have missed.
It's because "MFD",
Spelled canonically,
Will ruin the scansion and not do much the rhyme scheme either. |
|
| |
There once was a treacherous Roman
To Commodus he was the omen
He dared MFD
Our light poetry
And now he's our gladius' straw man |
|
| |
This is the "halfbakery:" section,
where the rules are relaxed, by election
of [jutta] (et al.),
who's a regular gal.
[pertinax] do you see the connection? |
|
| |
Max-B's demanding proper scansion!
(while pouring a drink in his mansion)
But - Oh, What a clot!
What he clean forgot
Was to tell us how limericks rhyme |
|
| |
sp. "thit", "pit". I mean, otherwise it wouldn't rhyme, would it? Oh, wait... |
|
| |
Of limericks, I was so unaware
halfbakers to me are all so dear
then came along Max
who knew all the facts
and now Xanax I need, I do fear |
|
| |
In his explanation of limericks,
[MaxwellBuchanan]'s up to some tricks.
He informs that the lines
Should be 9s, 5s and 9,
But his fourth one is clearly a 6. |
|
| |
A baker who's tatterdemalion
might lead one to cry, crocodilian
But when there's a will
One can take the Bastille
And dress him in bright red vermilion
|
|
| |
[their], [mouse] and [sleep], I would thank
You to note that I fired a blank,
Not a true [you-know-what]
But an innocent jot-
-ting on which you have chosen to express your feelings. |
|
| |
pertinax may indeed have a point
as an emperor he may anoint
his own words as such
and so, down the hutch
But a limerick, he hand't coined
|
|
| |
The trick of a poem is pace.
You should...pause...now and then, it's no race.
Proper arty expression,
Needs a loooong, drawn out session...
Well, that and screw up your face. |
|
| |
//But - Oh, What a clot!
What he clean forgot
Was to tell us how limericks rhyme// |
|
| |
[hippo]'s right, I omitted the rhyming,
But it's easy: it matches the timing.
The two shortest lines
Should be chosen to rhyme.
The three longer ones can be harder. |
|
| |
I'm usually careful with rhythm
And rhyming and scansion are with 'them
So I take in stride
(though he's no bona fide)
The doctor's advice to complete 'them
|
|
| |
[mouseposture] prefers to be clever
than to be understood. When, however,
a [pertinax], say,
gets the joke, in a way,
the Halfbakery's more fun than ever. |
|
| |
(With gratitude, for noticing //the Prussian
Clausewitz//.) |
|
| |
Oh, 'Bakers, beware and behold,
When in Lim'ricks our stories are told.
Provide contribution,
Avoid retribution,
Or else this whole thread will grow old!
|
|
| |
Just returned from my pre-combat pass;
Four glorious days lived as my last.
I am elated.
Each day; marinated
in copious whiskey and ass. |
|
| |
We all hope the best for our fighter
But wish that his burden was lighter
No matter the cause
With its boons and its flaws
His service could not be more righter |
|
| |
I laid down with 21's lady
now I wonder what STD she gave me.
I must broaden my list
now I know she's enlisted
in the United State Navy.
|
|
| |
All these homophobe rhymes are a gloom,
the shit's much too deep for a broom,
it spews like a faucet
from some Freudian closet, |
|
| |
and shirley deserves its own room... |
|
| |
I'm one of the poor 99,
Grown tired of waiting in line,
For the rich 1%,
To finally relent,
And give me back some of what's mine. |
|
| |
An ordinary unbeliever
With meager resources to lever
You must learn that maths
Take predictable paths
And the 1 percent is no deceiver
|
|
| |
Were you right and they took it from you
I would get why you choose to be blue
It's easy, indeed
To blame others greed
And much harder to do than to stew
|
|
| |
I too am of the "99".
I've lived in my car in past times.
But I wont demand
others fill outstretched hands
So when I'm rich I can keep what is mine. |
|
| |
Imagine that this whole commotion
Was over intelligence quotients
Would so many scream
That they're not of the cream?
I'm dumb and I'm proud, pass the potion
|
|
| |
The Lim'rick's ill-suited to venom,
And so my advice is: don't pen 'em.
Please heed my request:
Give your keyboard a rest
And don't be a pain in the frenum. |
|
| |
If you really must rant I implore you:
Try a clerihew, couplet or haiku.
Or better than those,
You should write it in prose.
If you can't then, I say, frankly, faiku. |
|
| |
It is an apples and oranges
to equate intelligence with
wealth
one is intrinsic
other extrinsic
nil
happens to rhyme with oranges. |
|
| |
why is it nothing can rhyme with orange
I think the closest words are door hinge
Buchanan is right
please boys, don't fight
your words make a lady really cringe. |
|
| |
Orange , cringe differ by dialect
These polarities form sect by sect
These differences
Form a sort of fence
The conflict is called dialectic. |
|
| |
MXB hasn't been to Nantucket
Where many a scribe had said, fuck it
But he is too right
I like keeping it light
So for now, at the least, I will tuck it
|
|
| |
Read edward lear
book of nonsense, hear?
its
fun
laugh a ton
rhyme without fear
|
|
| |
[Xandram], my dear you are right.
I’ve always been too quick to fight.
'takes feminine compassion
to reel my riled ass in,
and lead one like me to the light. |
|
| |
[And now, the limeric news] |
|
| |
There was a Dictator from Sirte,
His guards all wore blouses, not shirts,
Now everyone's happy,
'Cos Colonel Ghaddaffi,
Lies 6-feet deep in the Lybian dirt.
|
|
| |
Economics, and the United States Dollar,
Is printed without much fuss or bother.
Here, it's the Euro that's phony,
And that cad Berlusconi
Is feeling the heat round his collar.
|
|
| |
And now Sport, and United are pitied,
After a disasterous derby with City.
Still the fans all had fun,
The result was 6-1!
Man U's defence was "decidedly shitty".
|
|
| |
In financing news from the Valley
TC's latest try (really, sally)
Is still money-less
But he hopes for the best
Or else he'll be manning the galley
|
|
| |
An inventor by name [theircompetitor]
Baked a potion of neroli and vetiver
"When this gets up your noses,
You'll come up smelling of roses,
And your ailments, you'll feel much the better-for!" |
|
| |
There was a young gal from Berlin,
Who's code was both proper - and prim,
With great drive and some fervour,
She created the server,
'Pon which the rest of us so gladly login. |
|
| |
zen_tom, a note from the editor
impressive attempt on 'competitor
you've shirly attained
what few creditors gain
Now go on and swim with the predator
|
|
| |
Sir, I'm afraid we've just caught you trying to rhyme
"Jutta" with "Newton". That's going to be three
points on your poetic licence. And do you realize
the scansion of your brake-line is faulty? |
|
| |
[21Q] rhymes "Jutta" with "Newton",
not something I'd stake my repute on.
Coz these two lines (HERE)
Should rhyme - is that clear?
That's a simple fact, Q, not a moot one. |
|
| |
Her name's pronounced like the word Utah
with a U inflexion quite acute, uh,
I pronounced it as Judduh
and she suppressed a shudduh,
and woulda kicked me if I wasn't so cute-uh. |
|
| |
as for me, I would venture a tenner
that it's easier rhyming Degener
And Jutta won't mind
The topic's defined
And Maxwell will not raise his tenor
|
|
| |
//Do you know how the name Jutta is
pronounced, pray tell?// |
|
| |
I'll wager a dinner at [8th]'s expense that it doesn't
rhyme with Newton. Unless it has one of those
tricky unwritten Ns at the end. |
|
| |
And yes, Degener would be easy to rhyme, but I'm
assuming it the stress on the first syllable, which
makes it trickier to get the scansion (which, as we
all know, is of prime importance) to work. If it
were pronounced "deGENner", then of course
there would be thirteen suitable, well-scanning
rhymes. |
|
| |
I must say that I'm not very proud of myself for not
bringing in the Kardashians -- but I think Jutta has
limits :) |
|
| |
Maybe "DEgener"s stressed as "deGENNer",
but I'm willing to wager a tenner,
(or [8th]'s favourite hat,
if it should come to that)
it's pronounced as the former, not latter. |
|
| |
//not put too strong an emphasis on the 'n' in
'Newton',// |
|
| |
"Sir Isaac ewton" sounds wrong to me. |
|
| |
Also, can I recommend we make a segue to
clerihews? They're environmentally friendlier and
more tolerant than limericks of poor scansion. |
|
| |
Whether DEgenner or degennER
I could conjure a rhyme from thin air
She is Degenner
Though not de-bone-er
But she will likely bone this affair
|
|
| |
[MB]:
Clerihews are repulsive creatures,
entirely without redeeming features,
unless you count their attitude towards
scansion,
which is no reason to favor, employ, and promote
but, to the contrary, more of a reason to avoid,
eschew, & shun. |
|
| |
A Halfbakery user called Vernon wrote many a prosaicly named but surprisingly verbose idea.
These were on such a variety of topics that he was a renaissance man, it was clear.
They were always much longer than all the comments put together,
he covered every angle to make each a thing of beauty, forever.
And it was widely considered that if you ever named him, he'd instantly appear. |
|
| |
// to wager ... [8th]'s favourite hat // |
|
| |
Hey, careful with that, the tinfoil tears really easily ... |
|
| |
Numerically called 8th of Seven
His priestly name not sent from heaven
But rather from Trek
Where he holodecks
Partaking in all that is leavened
|
|
| |
Poor [Vernon] wants drives non-reactive,
and doubts things we all hold as facts. If
this madman (or hero?)
gets a force that's non-zero
poor Newton will spin on his axis. |
|
| |
Yes, it's difficult rhyming on Vernon
It's easy to move him astern, on
The hope that your ship
Will FTL skip
And never need fuel to burn on
|
|
| |
Vernon's penchant for verbosity
and the way he heroically
doesn't give up's great.
But his words make me
feel like I've had a lobotomy |
|
| |
For help with the hungriest hippos
You'll need more than marbles or Zippos
Abandon your guns
Hold on to your buns
No fish for this whale, for the pit boss
|
|
| |
Whilst watching the tele, young Vernon
Found a programme that's all about Cerne on.
He saw the black hole machine,
Cried out "That's what I mean!"
Then found a 'bak'ry idea he could churn on. |
|
| |
Higgledy-piggledy
Bakers could easily
Learn double-dactyls
While out on a lim- |
|
| |
Eric binge where the whole
Demi-boulangerie
Fills up the screen in pur-
Suit of a whim. |
|
| |
Not entirely sure I've got this right but here goes...
Poetic nonsenses
Scrawled on the interweb.
Meaningless gibberish
Crowds in my brain
Help me please somebody!
Obsessive-compulsion
Calls to my rythmical
Muse once again! |
|
| |
A limerick about [JesusHChrist] |
|
| |
There should be a limerick |
|
| |
So JesusHChrist walks on water
But he cannot save us from slaughter
To be more precise
He walks on thin ice
And craves the occasional otter
|
|
| |
He said he'd return one day
And he has, is it now Judgment Day?
Though the Romans had iced
[JesusHChrist]
He's as immortal as Chevrolet</strikethrough> Subaru. |
|
| |
A librarian jesushchrist
Spends all of his days picking book lice
Scratching his scabies
Wishing them rabies
To keep his sore balls from crushed ice |
|
| |
When I'm turning water to spirit
I summon my god to appear it
In this way my wine
Is not pearl before swine
And JesusHChrist, can't you hear it?
|
|
| |
[JesusHChrist]'s no relation
to the King of the Jews, and that nation
makes haste to declare:
"We are fully aware
that his dad played no role in Creation." |
|
| |
So what can one say to mouseposture
Without being put out to pasture
We cannot create
Or innoculate
This mouse, alas seems we're no Pasteur
|
|
| |
pertinax's double-dactyls are really bugging me! This ones a bit late for Halloween but I felt the need to post it anyway...
Cthulhu Cschmooloo
Tentacled Great Old One (*)
Stirs in his restless sleep
Under the sea
All-hibernational **
Yearns for his cosmic realm
Broadcasting endlessly
Sweet dreams to me. |
|
| |
A tribute to the forgotten: |
|
| |
Conspicuously absent, he;
Though "user" or used, I can't see;
Haddock, snapper or cod?
His visage, all but gnawed,
Our small noble friend from the sea. |
|
| |
We know he likes numero uno
His humor was rather like Bruno
The shrimp, rather plump
He liked, just like Gump
Dear Bubba, what is your fortuna
|
|
| |
[DrBob]'s doggerel
footnotes attached to it
Ezra Pound did the same
came to a sticky end. |
|
| |
Ooh no, mp. You need to read pertinax's link. It's all part of the double-dactyl rules. |
|
| |
[DrBob]'s doggerel
footnotes attached to it
Ezra Pound did the same
traitor or mad?
|
|
| |
I stand corrected but
plead for your mercy. My
misunderstanding is
just not that bad. |
|
| |
<strokes chin & ponders for a moment>
Oh, very well. You are forgiven! |
|
| |
As far as the old Ezra Pound
By many a measure, unwound
He was catalytic
And...hardly politic
Return him to whence he was found
|
|
| |
To lay, my dear [21_Quest]
Implies a particular zest
For simply to lie
Whether truthful or high
Is hardly displaying your best
|
|
| |
I'm not going to play tit for tat
It simply is not where I'm at
But having to ponder
Does leave me to wonder
Does she reside yonder?
But saying entendre
As though you're down under
Is no way to plunder
Her this or her that
|
|
| |
All this ribaldry makes me uneasy
I'd hate for this site to get sleazy(er)
I don't dissaprove
I just think it should move
To a place that's not the Halfbakery |
|
| |
On second thought, that sounds a bit too elitist. On with
the smut! |
|
| |
[21_Quest] -- who knew? -- is a prude.
We all thought him a straight-talking dude.
Well, it would have been sweet
if he'd counted the feet
and his //gotten// were "fucked," "laid," or
"screwed." |
|
| |
//pertinax's double-dactyls are really bugging me!// |
|
| |
Thank you, [DrBob]; it's nice to be appreciated. |
|
| |
Ah, the proclamations of [21Quest],
Who'd have us believe he's the best,
I suspect that he's dreamin',
'bout the spread of his semen,
And his level of sexual prowess. |
|
| |
And so we say bye to old Rooney
No halfbaker he, but no puny
A wordsmith of note
And not one to dote
He'd probably think us all loony
|
|
| |
(not really a limerick, but the meter should be familiar;
accentuate the capitalized syllables) |
|
| |
Here's a wee Ditty
that's Not very Pretty;
quite Bad, since Part of a List.
if [Jutta] had Flagged,
the Fun would have Sagged
as a Great many Rhymes became Missed. |
|
| |
(not hardly a wee ditty, these song lyrics are
autobiographical, and likely don't belong here
--unless they are fun enough....
Again, accented syllables have their first letters capitalized.) |
|
| |
the Year was nineteen-Sixty-four;
my Folks brought a piAno home.
though World was in midst Of cold war,
they Opened wide a Music tome
--said this was a skill i needed.
|
|
| |
now Each young child is Full of play
and Learns a lot while Having fun,
yet Discipline arRives one day,
inSisting "work unTil it's done!"
--acquiring a skill unwanted.
|
|
| |
Practice! Practice! Practice! for Nine months of a Year.
Make the Fingers Study! which Notes are Far or Near!
AutoMatic Movements! make Thinking Time near Nil;
Motions Must be Reflexed! for It to Be a Skill!
|
|
| |
when I was in the Seventh grade
i Chose to take a Typing class.
with Hands just so and Fingers splayed,
i Knew in spite of Comments crass
that this was a skill i needed.
|
|
| |
the Year was maybe 'Sixty eight;
most Typewriters were Manual.
comPuters were a Size called great,
but Ate cards punched by Typing well
--so that was a skill i wanted!
|
|
| |
Practice! Practice! Practice! for Nine months of a Year.
Make the Fingers Study! which Keys are Far or Near!
AutoMatic Movements! make Thinking Time near Nil;
Motions Must be Reflexed! for It to Be a Skill!
|
|
| |
when I was maybe Seventeen,
in Tucson ariZona's heat,
a Diving board was To be seen
with Chance of actions Really neat
--yet that was no skill i needed.
|
|
| |
but Launching into Swimming pool
comBining gainer And jack-knife,
to Twist and flip in Ways that rule,
apProached a max of Fun in life
--making it a skill i wanted!
|
|
| |
Practice! Practice! Practice! for Nine months of a Year.
Make the Body Study! which Dives are Clean or Veer!
AutoMatic Movements! make Thinking Time near Nil;
Motions Must be Reflexed! for It to Be a Skill!
|
|
| |
at Oddball times aCross my life
came OpportuniTies to bowl;
asSaulting pins can Transfer strife
but Only through a Nifty roll
--and so it's a skill not needed.
|
|
| |
yet Hooking ball both Left and right,
conVerting all but Toughest split
sets Spirits loose to Rise in height,
and Buoys one beyond Time to flit
--add it to the skills i wanted!
|
|
| |
Practice! Practice! Practice! for Nine months of a Year.
Make the Body Study! which Rolls do Strike or Veer!
AutoMatic Movements! make Thinking Time near Nil;
Motions Must be Reflexed! for It to Be a Skill!
|
|
| |
once Well into the Adult years,
i Worked to live, alMost in trance,
yet Now and then a Lady nears
and Asks me how well I can dance
--now that was a skill guys needed!
|
|
| |
i Tried to go to Dancing school,
but Though i might dress To the nines,
my Working hours Won that duel;
my Feet behaved like Frankenstein's
--so it is a skill still wanted.
|
|
| |
Practice! Practice! Practice! for Nine days of a Year.
Make the Body Study! which Steps are Far or Near!
AutoMatic Movements! make Thinking Time near Nil;
Motions Must be Reflexed! for It to Be a Skill! |
|
| |
A writer of sagas is Vernon
He's paid by the word so it's game on
Attention does wane
But Vernon does gain
For some it is surely a turn on
|
|
| |
//For some it is surely a turn on//
Good Lord! It's so long Mr. [Vernon]!
The entendre's double,
but we don't want trouble.
It isn't worth wasting concern on. |
|
| |
I know it may bring on the strife,
But I've only laid down with my wife.
By an effort of will,
But we're happier, still,
Than some people will be their whole life. |
|
| |
A round of applause to the [Steele]s;
It's not only [Rayford] who feels
There's no need to compete
Sweeping folk off their feet
With tall tales and badly-lit meals. |
|
| |
One sexual conquistador
Has some trouble sustaining his score;
The countess will confess
She's the count in a dress
And the rest? They were all the same... person. |
|
| |
As I write this the next big holiday approaches.
Here's some song lyrics I wrote about 6 years ago.
|
|
| |
The holidays have arrived again
from ancient times when people began
to hold a lot of beliefs pagan
and started to fall off the wagon!
|
|
| |
(refrain)
Times may change everything we believe
but solstice and birthday don't cause a peeve.
Our fates are mingled in all that we weave;
that's why tis better to give than receive!
Now let's understand the ancients' fate
if every sunrise happens late
and endless freezing just lies in wait --
an early sun means "Let's celebrate!"
|
|
| |
For half a year we think of one day
when joy bursts forth and hearts are at play,
because of the cure for feeling fey
brought by a babe with something to say!
|
|
| |
A birthday like none that's ever been
announced by angels, with three wise men
who carried gifts that were set to pen,
they made a party for ALL to ken!
|
|
| |
The babe's so special they moved His birth
toward winter solstice to match its worth
because His tidings of Peace on Earth
brings gladness whereever there's a dearth!
|
|
| |
They tell us that Pisces was His sign
and partying turned water to wine,
but when He invited twelve to dine
He told them they would do just as fine!
|
|
| |
A wooden cross didn't end His tale;
His given life's a message at sail.
So while you wait for gifts in the mail,
remember His birth and do not wail!
|
|
| |
A birthday party for Jesus, see
means presents for all, including He,
who said, "To give to the least of ye
is also to have given to Me." |
|
| |
Thanksgiving was meager at best:
MREs, and so little rest.
Still, I'm more thankful here
than all the past years
Because I and my friends finally made it out of that shoddy-ass, fucking mountain pass.
|
|
| |
We are all fine. Two full nights of rest and we are no longer bitchy bearded zombies.
|
|
| |
Love and miss you crazy half-bakers! |
|
| |
Religion is all well and good
if it stays in it's place, like it should.
But at Christmas it's gory
to wheel out some story
Of a guy being nailed up on wood. |
|
| |
Well I like Santa, all dressed in red
Sugar plum faeries dance in my head
One wish for [jutta]
And more for the rest
Sweet dreams and buns, for all to be fed. |
|
| |
Christmas comes but once a year
But please note that it’s not yet here!
Now for seventeen long days
I will be forced to gaze
On seasonally inappropriate cheer. |
|
| |
The Grinch-like [pocmloc] decries
these Xmas verses, since it lies
not yet a fortnight hence. In sooth
we must admit that bitter truth.
But days drag on so dark and drearily.
We'll celebrate it premacheerily. |
|
| |
But the rhyme scheme on several posts has gone awry!
(See [link] for formal description.) |
|
| |
Engaging in some elf promotion
'Competitor raises the notion
That if you are scared
To see sleighs in mid-air
Then duly ignore the commotion
|
|
| |
But if you desire augmentation
Then do not resist the temptation
My profile has link
Not Zelda, but, <wink>
Your holiday cheer application
|
|
| |
For both 21 quest and rcarty
here's a rhyme to be put in your cart,
He's in Hebrew, I know,
and an Orange, although,
It's the only rhyme, to A Rhyme for a start.
|
|
| |
A Rhyme in Hebrew is Harooz
An Orange is called a Tapooz
So take off your shoes
And read all the news
On H B Users Limerick failures.
|
|
| |
Oh! And whatta
bout jutta? |
|
| |