Submitted By: Bill
THE OJ TRIAL AS TOLD BY DR. SUESS
I did not kill my lovely wife.
I did not slash her with a knife.
I did not bonk her on the head.
I did not know that she was dead.
I stayed at home that fateful night.
I took a cab, then took a flight.
The bag I had was just for me.
My bag. My bag. Hey, leave it be.
When I came home, I had a gash.
My hand was cut from broken glass.
I cut my hand on broken glass.
A broken glass did cause that gash.
I have nothing, nothing to hide.
My friend he took me for a ride.
Did you take this person's life?
Did you do it with a knife?
I did not do it with a knife.
I did not, could not kill my wife.
I did not do this awful crime.
I could not, would not anytime.
Did you hit her from above?
Did you drop this bloody glove?
I did not hit her from above.
I cannot even wear that glove.
I did not do it with a knife.
I did not, could not kill my wife.
I did not do this awful crime.
I could not, would not anytime.
And now I'm free, I can return
To my small house, for which I yearn,
And to family whom I love.
So now I'm free, give back my glove.
Submitted By: Vc
This is not a Limerick but a free verse poem. Just wanted to send it.
Fooled
The creature slips through me
Like the splinter of a tree
So carefully I will not notice
Every word thats said I will agree
The creature slips through me
I will misinterpret, I will be mislead
I will pass the message on
They will forever be fooled
The creature with its lies will con
The creature slips through me
The words of the creature lurks in me
as I tell its tale
Its story that is not so true
but will never fail
The creature slips through me
The creature masks himself
so true and so real
that I could not tell the difference
Like a dream so surreal
The creature slips through me
My eyes are covered totally
I cannot decide
Blinded by the fabrication
His words will guide,
to where the creature slips through me
A fool I have been made
blinded, my innocence dies
never to see or hear the truth
behind this never ending sea of lies
The creature slips through me.
Submitted By: robert benedict
In days of old
When knights were bold
and condoms weren't invented
they tied their socks
around their cocks
and babies were prevented.
Submitted By: Mark Bingham
Extinction
The dinos are gone
i think they got hit by a bomb
actually it was a meteor
comets are sweater
thank god they are not strong
Submitted By: Danie
I knew an old bitch,
She had an awful itch,
I offered to scratch it,
But cut her head off with a hatchet,
Now the old bitch no longer has an itch
Submitted By: Peter Stevenson
There was a young Lady from Bude,
Who went for a swim in a lake.
A man in a punt,
Stuck a pole in her ear.
And said "You can't swim here, it's private"
Submitted By: Heidi Klick
I remember how much fun we have whenever we're together,
And when you go away, I know I'll miss you forever.
You always make me smile and you have that certain way,
Of talking to me, turning a lonely night into a bright sunny day.
Whenever I'm around you I am never sad,
Because nothing ever goes wrong, or nothing is bad.
When I look into your eyes, they are filled with joy,
LIke the happiness of a child playing with his new Christmas toys.
Whenever I have a problem, you help me see it through,
I know you care for me, and that's why I love you!
But still there is that feeling of when we're not together,
I miss you a lot, always and forever.
I am NOT, I repeat NOT taking credit for this at all it was just a really cute poem!!
Two frogs fell into a deep cream bowl,
One was an optimistic soul.
But the other took a gloomy view,
"I shall drown!" he cried "and so will you!"
So with a last despairing cry,
He closed his eyes and said good-bye!
But the other with a merry grin said,
I can't get out, but I won't give in!
I'll swim around until my strength is spent,
For having tried I'll die content.
Bravely, he swam until it would seem,
His struggles began to churn the cream.
On top of the butter at last he stopped,
And out of the bowl he happily hopped.
What is the moral? It's easily found,
If you can't get out, keep swimming around!
Submitted By: Henry Mucha
During a bus tour to Columbus,
The driver got out to repair the bus.
A lady passenger, trying to assist the driver
Stepped out and said, "Do you need a screwdriver?"
Said he, "OK, but wait until I repair the bus !"
Submitted By: Samantha Alergnign
Up on a hill was a man named Bill
who had to take a piss,
yet he cussed and he swore
for the pants that he wore
prevented his doing this.
later that night
He noticed with some fright
his jewels were lost without hope
So he blew through his thumb
and found he could come
now isn't this guy a dope?
Submitted By: Henry Mucha
This set of poetry concerns itself with the report in the newspapers of a sheep that was cloned.
Tiger,tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
At last a mortal hand and eye
Can frame thy fearful symmetry.
While Mary Shelly had her fears
And surrogates are left in tears,
Scientists are on a cloning spree.
But dare He who made the lamb make thee ?
Author - Srivatsa Marthi, Ottawa
The following is on the same subject, by anonymous !
Mary had a little lamb,
its fleece was slightly grey.
It didn't have a father,
just some borrowed DNA.
It had a sort of mother,
Though the ovum was on loan,
It was not so much a lambkin
As a little lamby clone.
And soon it had a fellow clone,
And soon it had some more.
They followed her to school one day
All cramming through the door.
It made the children laugh and sing;
The teachers found it droll.
There were too many lamby clones
For Mary to control.
No other could control the sheep,
Since their program didn't vary,
So the scientists resolved it all
By simply cloning Mary.
But now they feel quite sheepish,
Those scientists, unwary.
One problem solved,
But what do do with Mary, Mary, Mary ?
Submitted By: Henry Mucha
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To get a pail of water.
Silly Jill
Forgot her pill,
And now they have a daughter.
Submitted By: Chris Shabram
I can't think of what to say,
But I type any way.
There's something in my head,
I just can't think of how it was said.
The best thing to do now,
is to quit typing any how.
Submitted By: Jeanne Hart
In days of old,
When knights were bold,
Before outhouses were invented.
They laid their load,
Beside the road,
And walked away contented.
Submitted By: Gregory Kwok
Roses are red,
Grass is green.
You have the shape
Of a washing machine.
Submitted By: Kelly
Street Dreams
Why do they put all these dreams in our head?
Going to school is something to dread
Lawyers, doctors, they expect so much
They want us to be prepared
I am scared, I am scared, I am scared
I want to be loved, I want to be cared for
I want someone to tell me how it really is
A better place to raise kids
I love the street, it is where my heart came from
A life of pushers, hustlers and drugs
To live here to stay here to be here
That is MY dream
Submitted By: Paul Carmody
Here's a hint, women aren't funny. Women think they're smart, too; so you'll probably reply that these limericks weren't necessarily made to be funny, perhaps just clever. Aw, if only you KNEW. You know, I wish there didn't have to be this division between the sexes, but it's people like you that reinforce it. Meanwhile, men go on being creative, and women try to prove that they can do it, too. There's the difference: men keep their mouth shut, and just do it.
Paul Carmody
kjhj47a@prodigy.com
p.s. women aren't funny
Submitted By: Bruno
Procrastination
limitation
degredation
of mankind
limits mind
degrates find
and makes blind
Submitted By: Alisha
(author unknown)
There once was a farmer who lived by a crick,
and early each morning he played with his-----
banjo in the moonlight with the lady next door.
You could tell just by looking that she was a-----
fine country lady with a fine country lass
and when she rolled over you could see her fat----
legs in the moonlight she walked like a duck.
She promised the farmer a new way to----
raise a fine family the girls would all knit
and the boys would be outside shoveling----
corn cobs and cabbages and they did it quite well
and if you don't like my story you can just got to ---
bed.
Submitted By: Elliott Kember
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Most poems rhyme,
But this one doesn't.
Submitted By: ALJUFRI
Peace Loving Man,
Living In This Land,
To Believe And To Understand,
Who Is God And Who Is The Man.
Submitted By: Helen Cox
Reflection on Caution By Ogden Nash
Affection is a noble quality,
It leads to generosity and jollity,
But it also leads to breach of promise
if you go around lavishing it on red hot momise!
Loony Limericks / webmaster@loonies.zzn.com / revised October 1997