My initial goal was to write two limericks per week for a year.  Having achieved that goal, I'm going on hiatus for a bit.

Today's final archived limerick is one of my favorites just because it's so silly.  And also because it typifies what I like most about writing in a constrained form such as a limerick: you wind up with scenarios you'd otherwise never be able to invent, simply because two (or more) unrelated words happen to rhyme, and you have to fill in the blanks to make their connection plausible.

When I ordered some freshly baked bread
At the Cannibal Inn, my host Fred
(Who is deaf in one ear)
Brought a skull on a spear.
Guess he thought I said “fleshless staked head.”

Based on the suggestion: "fresh baked bread"

I don't often know what's going to work and what's going to be too far-fetched.  Particularly when it's a matter of breaking grammatical rules to satisfy the rhyme or meter.  Is it an example of sloppiness, requiring a complete reworking of the idea, or is it an example of creative license, stretching the rules for comic effect?  Usually I just have to share it and see whether I get back positive comments or silence.  This one seems to have succeeded.

I feed my persnickety pumas
On mangosteens, plums, and satsumas.
If they happen to eat
Just one morsel of meat
Then they suffer revenge (Montezuma's).

Based on the suggestion: “satsuma”

All of my saved documents retain the initial attempts at each poem descending down the page, since I start at the top again with each fresh idea.  Looking back over them can be a bit like an archeology dig, seeing the different strata of ideas develop, either with gradual changes, based on the ones below, or a sharp demarcation line, indicating a complete change of tack.

Here's the final version of the poem based on the suggestion "oboe":

An oboe walked into a bar
And was cruised by a Spanish guitar.
She said, “Only six strings,
“And you're flaunting those things?
“You're close, but you're just no sitar.”


The punchline was given to me by my housemate, based on the below idea which I felt just wasn't snappy enough. 

An oboe walked into a bar
With a yearning to be a big star.
So a Djinn in the band
Gave a wave of his hand,
And the oboe became a guitar.


It was almost there, and on a different day I might have said "good enough" and published it, but it didn't quite get across the idea of "the only way for an oboe to be famous would be to turn into a more popular instrument altogether" in a way that felt both clear and funny.  (No offense, oboists!  I love oboes).

Still, it was an improvement on the original formulation, which was a bit hazy as to which character got transmogrified.

An oboe walked into a bar
And announced, “I shall be a big star!”
It so happen a Djinn
Had a wish to cash in,
And poof, he became a guitar. 

(Zildjian is a popular maker of cymbals for drum kits, so I think that's where the "Djinn" came from.  A little too subtle, I think...) 


Going a step backward in time, there are these variations on a theme comparing an oboe with a bassoon.  There were lots of great rhymes with bassoon, so I was sure I would get something out of that, but nothing coalesced.

An oboe, a sax, a bassoon:
Had a contest to make a gal swoon.
The first one was
The second was
And the last sent her over the moon.

An oboe is like a bassoon:
Both their timbres can make a gal swoon.
But the oboe


An oboe is like a bassoon
In the same way a knife's like a spoon:
The first one cuts through


An oboe is like a bassoon,
And a chipmunk is like a raccoon.
Both are smaller and shriller
And 


Finally, my initial idea was so compact that it didn't need more than just two lines.

An oboe has two equal reeds
Which is two more than anyone needs.

I know limericks have a reputation of being salacious.  But this is about as salacious as I get. 

A vicar, whilst studying cartography
Was enraged by a bit of topography:
“There's no need for a crest
“To be centered on Brest!
“It's not mapping!” he cried, “It's pornography!”

Based on the suggestion “cartography”

I'll say it out loud and proud: I like puns.  I like off-the-cuff silly puns, and well-crafted pun punchlines to a shaggy dog story.  But my favorite kind of pun is the one that is like an optical illusion.  Like the picture that is both a duck and a rabbit, or an old lady and a young lady: your brain tries to hold both interpretations at once – like trying to balance on a narrow rail – but you keep falling off to one side or another.  Or you oscillate back and forth quickly between the two, trying to get the oscillations to go fast enough that they blur into a single understanding of both at the same time.  They never do.  But the attempt mesmerizes my brain.

A whole poem is a bit too complex for that effect to take hold, I think.  But if you read through this once and think "wait, what?" and then you read it through a second time and it makes perfect sense, I feel as if I've achieved my goal.

A worker in fabric's a sewer.
A fast-moving sewer's a flower.
A flower's a plant,
And a woman who can't
Keep her hands off a rake is a hoer.

Based on the suggestion: “sewer” (as in “where the alligators live”)

This poem was a bit unusual in the way it came about.  It's one of the few that wasn't directly suggested by someone.  I had been working on the suggestion "sewer" and came up with the rhyme of "fewer" and the idea of substituting the word "less" where "fewer" was expected.  

But there wasn't enough room in the original poem to build a context where it made sense.  So "fewer" budded off into its own poem, and the idea flip-flopped a couple times as to whether "fewer" should be the expected rhyme and "less" would be the actual word, or vice versa.  Eventually I decided that the more pedantic way was funnier.

I've a sin that I have to confess.
When I go to the store, I transgress.
I take 12 jugs of wine
Through the line with the sign
That says, “Only 10 items or fewer.”

Based on the suggestion: “fewer”

This was one of the fastest ones I wrote.  The idea for the "greyhound" rhymes popped into my head fairly quickly, aided by the lucky fact that the rhymes fit so well with the subject matter.  It only took a few more minutes to work out what the two shorter lines should be, and the whole thing fell into place.  I think the part that took the longest was coming up with the word "beguile" when I was looking for a two-syllable synonym for "catch."

An admirable dog is the greyhound.
It's an excellent sit-, heel- and stay-hound.
But should something dash by
And beguile its eye,
It's a blurred streak of running-away-hound.

Based on the suggestion: “greyhound”

August is favorites month!  To celebrate one year of Limerick Boutique, I'm bringing back the ones  people liked best.  Got a favorite?  Let me know and I'll post it.  

This one sticks in my mind because of all the wrangling it took to set up the pun.  To have it work both as meaning "looking for something and being disappointed" and also "succeeding in finding a sofa stuffed with feathers from wild birds," plus fit the rhymes and meter...well, it went through a lot of versions before settling on this one.  

Bob's “All Natural” Love Seats purveys
Just a handful that merit high praise.
When I sought a settee
Stuffed from birds that roam free
I wound up on a wild-goose chaise. 

Based on the suggestion: "wild goose chase"