My illustrious cousin David holds an annual Groundhog Day Limerick Contest, and I'm sorry not to have posted this earlier so you could enter.  However, nothing livens up the winter days like a limerick!  Even without a contest to enter, I strongly encourage you to try writing a few yourself.  I will include a few here to inspire you.

1. Reasons for Relish in a Groundhog's Pessimism (by Sam Nielson)

Long cold winters inflame the irascible;
Make post-rodent eclipses less passable.
Yet I personally dread
The congestion-filled head
That renders Spring's coming "alas"-able.

[From an Atlantic Monthly contest:] [a little off-color content; forgive me]

2. "In spring," said the strict statistician
"I live by this stern supposition:,
'The chances of love
Are a straight function of
The number of times of coition.'"
(by username MadZeno)

3. Limerickitis? I've got it!
It's growing so fast I should pot it.
Then come next Spring
When we do the same thing
I could nip off a bud and re-jot it.
(by username Ravensegg)

4. Poor Alice hadn't a thing
To wear to the beach in the Spring.
She went in and swam
Wearing only a yam
And two dixie cups and a string.
(by username toxwaste)

Or perhaps I could follow David's lead and re-write this post in limerick form?:

The time is too late on the dial
For my cousin-by-marriage's trial,
But a non-judgéd fling
Can still be just the thing
For the underground limerophile.

If you find your muse stubborn or restive,
Or the weather outside less-than-festive,
Read these samples; then flaunt
Your inner bon vivant
(Though a few are just slightly suggestive).

We start with my spouse contravening
Spring's usual welcome.  Well-meaning
entendre then follow.
We next move to sprouts (fallow)
And end with some makeshift bikining.

The last part to recount's not essential
But nice if we're being sequential.
It concerns my own verse:
too much French; even worse,
it's excessively self-referential.


  1. I LOVE it! But I'm not going to attempt one right now, I'm not clever enough on the uptake. I'll have to think about it for a while. Maybe forever.

  2. I must say, once again I'm jealous. The one thing my creative writing classes couldn't wring out of me was any talent in the poetry line, limericks or other wise. Well done, Marilyn

  3. For months I've been under the weather.
    My house keeps me on a short tether.
    But unchill the air
    And I will with great flair
    go in for some warm saddle leather.


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