Villanelle villanelle

Post temporarily withdrawn - entered for competition

Stuck for Words [a true story]

Inside my stomach, wolf cubs growled persistently,
A chipmunk gnawed away deep in my bowels,
The consonants had favoured me consistently,
While all he’d had were double-u’s and vowels.

At Scrabble, I had always been the victim,
However many I got, Dad got more.
But now I knew I’d well and truly licked ‘im,
And gleefully I totted up the score.

“Two-four-eight for you,” I almost gloated,
“Two-eight-six for me, I think you’ll find
My lead is quite substantial and, yea verily,
One tile left, you're thirty eight behind.”

He gazed upon the board for half a minute,
And bit his fingernail in contemplation.
“That Zed’s a hoor," I warbled like a linnet,
“Methinks you’re in a hopeless situation.”

He scanned the board again, his grey head shaking
While all the time my heart was thumping madly,
I smiled at all the noises he was making –
I’d give him all the time he wanted gladly.

The end was near, he faced the final curtain,
Those huge defeats now firmly in the past.
He’d never get that Zed out, that was certain,
The mantle would be handed o’er at last.

His tile lay still. And then I watched him take it,
And at the end of “QUART” he placed his Zed.
“Ten and fourteen’s twenty four, I make it,
And doubled up is forty eight,” he said.

The vict’ry in my grasp just turned to ashes,
Poor Tantalus in Hell ne’er knew such pain.
I packed away the game with tear-stained lashes
And it never saw the light of day again.

.

Recited at the very wonderful BAFFLE festival in Loughrea October 2008 but it didn't get out of the heats.

Even more Oedilf limericks

Oh, pity the poor daddylonglegs,
An insect with not-very-strong legs.
They'd better support 'er
If they were much shorter —
Perhaps she was given the wrong legs?

A lecherous North Wales Druid
Ran amok in the county of Clwyd.
The birth-rate increased
And, in fact, only ceased
When he used up his bodily fluid.

Said Fergus to Ike, "This hand's more like
A hand. I am sure you recall, Ike,
That the old one was twisted.
It's now been de-listed
'Cause the doctors agreed it was clawlike."

The Daíl (Ireland’s parliament) houses
A host of buffoons in grey trousers.
With hope’s candle flickering,
They spend their time bickering
And can’t see what ire it arouses.

A property agent was selling
A “compact” and “bijou” cliff dwelling.
Constructed of granite,
One tenant (a gannet),
The reasons to buy were compelling.

What magic conspires to draw me
To this Danish Pastry before me?
Its currants and icing
Appear so enticing –
“Oh, eat me!” I hear it implore me.

The Danube, that deep, brooding river,
Springs forth where the Alpine goats shiver.
To the Black Sea it wanders,
And languidly ponders
The secret it has to deliver.

The Davy Lamp, housed behind glass,
Burned blue in the presence of gas.
This welcome recruit
Gave canaries the boot
And saved many a coalminer’s ass.

My mother’s poor face became ashen
When told darning had gone out of fashion.
“When a sock’s had its day,
You just throw it away?”
She demanded, her voice full of passion.

A blood clot is prayed for (obtusely)
When someone is bleeding profusely.
But when bleeding has stopped,
The prayer should be dropped,
For blood, when inside, should flow loosely.

Sexy ailments

Some ailments are deemed to be sexy,
Like TB and grave apoplexy.
Though jaundice and croup and dyslexia,
In my humble opinion, are sexier.

Ryanair self service

The trolley moved slowly down the aisle,
Though we couldn’t really smell much cooking.
There were sandwiches, bars and camomile,
And some sweets, they said, for sucking.
The girls served the passengers with a smile,
Despite all the finger-crooking,
And my son sneaked a Coke and a sandwich, while
The two of them weren’t looking.

Rien de merde, Phil

“Tonight there’s gonna be a jailbreak
Somewhere in this town.”

Now some might claim
My brain is lame
And – no defence!-
I am quite dense,
But even I,
A brain dead guy,
Have some idea,
As yet unclear,
Where this jailbreak
Might
Take
Place.

What if?

“I’m not that fond of apples,” said Eve.
“I much prefer those peaches.
Their pulpy flesh
Is sweet and fresh
And more worthy of your speeches.”

More Oedilf Limericks

Oh the hills that adorn Connemara
Paint themselves with a purple mascara,
And in midwinter’s reign,
They will show their disdain
By adopting a snow-white tiara.

Up above, where the stars are all clustered,
Shining forth in the dark, brightly lustred,
They are sprinkled like dust
On a black velvet crust,
Like white pepper adorning black custard.

As the bishop became even dozier,
The priest grew increasingly nosier.
He picked up his crook
And he had a good look
Till the bishop yelled “Hands off my crosier!”

The bungee jump stifled all laughter:
No-one noticed the white-water rafter—
As the jumper, with craft,
Dived headfirst through the raft,
And the coils of his rope tumbled after.

The Chief of Staff watched as his army
Were drowned in a Red Sea tsunami.
On the far side, young Moses
And the slaves thumbed their noses.
"Oh God," said the Chief. "I'm going barmy."

Clotted cream, it's alleged, has been spotted
On grocery shelves, firmly potted.
It's the true taste of heaven
When served fresh in Devon,
But in pots on the shelves? Ah, get knotted!

The conductor of the band had to warn its
Brass section 'bout squabbling like hornets.
He threatened to dump its
Recalcitrant trumpets
And melt down its quarrelsome cornets.

The laundrymaid took the bed linen —
"Eatin' choc'late in bed?" she said, grinnin'.
But then came the smell
And she let out a yell,
"Its a stable that they should've bin in!"

There once was an old basket-maker
Who made baskets upon his half-acre.
He wove every reed
Very slowly indeed –
He was hardly a mover and shaker.

The Christian liturgy's written
To stop people biting when bitten.
But though I agree
With this wholeheartedly,
I'm still gonna smite when I'm smitten.

At Amsterdam airport, the lack
Of forethought caused Seamus some flak.
“Your visit, you’ve stated,
Is business related?”
“Oh no, I’m just here for the craic.”

Desp’rately, Frank mopped his brow.
“Oh, please do not say goodbye now.”
But the leggy Italian
Caressed his medallion
And left with a tremulous “Ciao!”

My darling wife oft remarks I seize
Up totally in household crises.
If the loft tank’s o’erflowing
Or the heating’s not going,
I yell “Someone help! I’m a Pisces.”

A bar-room chanteuse from Muskogee
Complained that the place was too smokey.
“I can’t hit the right note,
I’ve a frog in my throat
And my voice is decidedly croaky.”

When Hamish pulled out of a date,
His friends called him “tumid” and “blate.”
“She doesn’t scare me,”
He said fearlessly
“But her father’s the toon magistrate.”

Oedilf Limericks

This is an interesting site I came across by accident. The aim of www.oedilf.com is to provide a definition for every word in the dictionary in limerick form! So far they've got as far as da-. Here are a few I submitted - the words in bold are the definition words

McCartney, you won’t be a star
If you take up that old bass guitar.
You need to play lead
If you want to succeed
And become a big rock ‘n’ roll star.

A woodsman said conspiratorially,
“I demand that my grave’s marked arboreally.
In eternal slumber,
Surrounded my lumber,
I want this!” he snapped dictatorially.

In mediaeval Europe, black plague
Killed millions from Cork to The Hague
King Edward the Second
Died too, it was reckoned,
Though some say he just became vague.

An otherwise fine doctor would not
Inject, for he was not a good shot.
The one time he tried,
Sure, the patient near died
When the needle, off mark, caused a blood clot.

When a cow in Wisconsin became a bull,
The owner thought this might be claimable.
“Oh the courts will decide
If the last owner lied,
Or whether ‘tis God who is blamable.”

Francis Drake’s circumnavigation
In England caused great consternation.
The flat earthists suspected
His tale was injected
With great leaps of imagination.

The Roman historian Sallust
Walked barefoot o’er a quayside of ballast.
Though he rubbed on some cream
Once aboard the trireme,
The soles of his feet became calloused.

A confederate soldier outspokenly
Declared that the guns should have woken Lee.
When their fury was vented,
The soldier relented.
“I take it all back,” he said brokenly.

Aboard a Berlin-bound Lufthansa,
There performed a world-champion break-dancer.
‘Pon his head he gyrated.
“What a nut!” someone stated,
But the lad was too dizzy to answer.

The daffodil

‘Twas not his twice daily carafe o’ dill
That rendered the poor Earl of Stafford ill.
“The wrong plant was crushed,”
The Earl’s physic gushed.
“Oh what laxative powers has the daffodil!”

.

Submitted to the Washington Post in a limerick competition