PROMPTuesday #34: Bawdy Prose. Why? Because it’s the Holidays.

Look, I’m sorry to do this to you, but it has to be done.

Why, I can’t say. I don’t tend to examine my inspiration. It’s so often demented and idiotic.

 

What I regret perpetuating upon your writerly person is this:

For today’s PROMPTuesday, please compose a holiday limerick.

 

As you may or may not know, and probably could care less to have knowledge of, is that a limerick is a five-line poem, often obscene in nature (although Hickory Dickory Dock is considered limerick-esque. Unless like so many nursery rhymes, that one too has its roots in blood and sex). In a recent Wikipedia search, I turned up this example:

 

The limerick packs laughs anatomical

In space that is quite economical,

But the good ones I’ve seen

So seldom are clean,

And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

 

Now I don’t care if your limerick is obscene, because mine probably won’t be; after all I was a virgin until the age of 22, and probably wouldn’t know obscene if it bit me in the ass, which it did.

 

So, please imaginate your limerick and either post it in the comments or write it on your blog and leave your URL in the comments.

 

And in case any new readers (Oh, how I make myself laugh with my sweet virginal naiveté) would like to know what PROMPTuesday is all about, more information is here.

 

For an archive of past PROMPTs, go here.

 

p.s. I’m a little cranky today and apologize in advance to people who are nice.

 

33 thoughts on “PROMPTuesday #34: Bawdy Prose. Why? Because it’s the Holidays.”

  1. Twas biterly cold that xmas eve night
    Rudolphs red nose was particularly bright
    Santa thought “I’ll bet that nose gets hot”
    Maybe I’ll use it to warm up-this spot
    Down came his pants and out went the light

  2. There was a little duck called Marvin,
    On Christmas day he did all the carvin’
    But with a little slip
    He fell into the turkey (sorry)
    One of the guests complained it was movin’

  3. Holiday sounds are calling from the stores
    Buy me, buy me, Jingles Bells and more
    Not out of sight, I see an Elf run by
    As he throws a wink from his eye
    Merry Christmas to all, now buy, buy, buy…

  4. Santa asks with a wink in his eye, what I am wanting for him to fly by
    I ask for a good listener who takes interest and desire
    Considerate, and can set me on fire
    The present of touch, harmony and acceptance
    Then Santa fell off, saying I can never get any presents.

  5. Now, I’m a lousy poet, but I’ve been thinking with some trepidation about a holiday Open House we’re planning to throw here at Chez Doves. I’m not entirely sure my hostessing skills are going to be up to it. So here’s my limerick:

    “I’ll give it a try this December day
    And throw them a feast they’ll remember, hey –
    With holiday cheer.
    Someone’s bringing the beer!
    And I hope you will share in the memory.”

    http://www.doves2day.blogspot.com

  6. An obscene holiday limerick as ordered. Just so you know I love the tidbits of knowledge. Now I will always remember the true meaning of a limerick.

  7. A black-habited Catholic sister
    met a strapping young Father who kissed her
    He said “do not mourn He,
    cause you’ve never had me!”
    So she said “Then de-veil me, Mister!”

    (P.S. I wrote this before I realized that I had mis-read the instructions and didn’t write a Bawdy _Holiday_ limerick. So just insert Father Christmas into the role as the Father — and it should suffice.)

  8. Sorry, mistype. Should be:

    ‘Twas a lassie who lived in the city,
    That Santa had heard was quite pretty.
    As he stared at her bottom,
    She woke up and caught him,
    And offered to show him HER kitty.

  9. I’ll come up with something better as soon as this cloud of crank lifts, but for now:

    There once was an elf from Hoboken
    Who only made toys that were broken
    He made the kids cry
    With planes that din’t fly
    and bikes with tires de-spokin’

  10. Wow, these were all so much fun this week! And here I was calling you names behind your back when I first saw the prompt. I should have never doubted the merriment this would bring.

  11. Better late than never? Perhaps never is better:

    In this season of tinsel and holly,
    Santa brings cheer with his follies,
    For on cold winter nights,
    He sneaks out to get tight,
    And gets mommies to give him his jollies!

  12. Oh, you guys are good. You guys (I use the term loosely since most of you are girls) are reeeeaaalllll good. Is there not a PROMPT curveball I can throw?

    And G? Go ahead and groan. It’ll add to the collectivity of the groanness. Whatever that means.

  13. Ok, this is troublesome. I was driving to work and couldn’t get this out of my head.

    How about:

    The was a young elf named Rawls,
    A favorite of old Mrs. Claus,
    For when Santa leaves home,
    She gets Rawls all alone,
    And she plays with his big hairy b….

    I’m beginning to worry about myself:

    As I’m sipping my brandy and eggnog,
    I post dirty rhymes on my friend’s blog,
    Is she self-satiating
    To the rhymes I’m creating
    Or is it me who’s unclogging his backlog?

    I gotta stop. I need help.

  14. I had to have Last Place Finisher bound and gagged. He left me no choice.

    p.s. I think he deserves an Oscar (or an Oscar Wilde?) for outstanding limerickism, don’t you all think?

    p.p.s. But everybody’s limericks shined (shone?) in this PROMPT.

    Thanks for playing, you writers, you.

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