To end my Julymericks (July + limericks) posts, we have two slightly surreal stories about a woman with a health condition impacting her work, and a boy who has a strange experience in a park.
The Woman Who Lit All the Lamps
The woman who lit all the lamps
Was plagued in her ankles by cramps
So with barely a cough
She lopped them both off
And she clung to the ladder with clamps
The Boy in the Park
There was a young boy in the park
Who shrank to the size of a quark
He fell down a hole
Made a trade for his soul
With the creature he met in the dark
Unfortunately, electricity meant that the woman’s surgery was just needless self-mutilation.
Here is the third Julymericks (July + Limericks) post. Here we discover a golden book that is not all that it seems, and a wroggle named Wrag which I hardly need to explain.
The Book Made of Gold
There was a big book made of gold
That was thought to be terribly old
But the stamp on the leaf
Said Made in Tenerife
So, for not very much, it was sold
The Wroggle Named Wrag
There once was a wroggle named Wrag
Who lived in a white plastic bag
He ate pickled skrig
With the juice of a fig
Til his small eyes both started to sag
A book made of comedy gold
My second week of Julymericks (July + Limericks) features a cup of tea and a rat. Need I say more? Probably. Will I say more? No.
The Hot Cup of Tea
There once was a hot cup of tea
That sat on a grandfather’s knee
It spilled on his lap
So he started to flap
And he made a new life in the sea
The Unfortunate Rat
There was an unfortunate rat
Who trod on a daydreaming cat
The cat’s paw turned blue
He decided to sue
So the rat had to sell his old flat
Histeary repeats itself
It’s time for Julymericks! These are Limericks that I post in July! Woohoo! For the first two limericks, I present the tales of two women. One who has a really rough time and isn’t understood by her friends and family, and another who has a great time but ends up dead anyway.
The Woman from Crewe
There once was a woman from Crewe
Who couldn’t say yellow or blue
When all her friends said
You buy everything red
She responded Please help me, I need support with my unique neurological condition that continues to baffle doctors and scientists everywhere
The Woman from Crete
There once was a woman from Crete
Who glued both her hands to her feet
She rolled on the ground
With a terrible sound
Then disappeared into the peat
Fortunately, semi skimmed comes with a green top. Crisis averted.
This is a poem about crazy future medicine. We already use animal parts for some medical procedures, such as heart valves and stuff, but what if we could replace internal organs with entire animals that functioned as a second miniature body to support our own?
In this limerick, a man has had a life-saving operation that replaced his failing heart with a fish. However, it is not just the heart of the fish that becomes part of the man. It’s mind, it’s instincts, and it’s innermost desires begin to manifest themselves in his behaviour with strange results.
The Man With A Fish For A Heart
The man with a fish for a heart
Awoke in the night with a start
And started to crave
Salty water to bathe
But his bed was too warm to depart
This can’t end whale
I don’t really have a good explanation for this poem. It’s nearly a love story but the whole thing is a bit ambiguous. There’s a lonely boy whose legs are actually lemon trees. He thinks he’s a freak who nobody will ever love but he is met by a kindred spirit who makes a request. It’s not made clear what happens next but you may speculate as to your own ending.
Lemon Tree Legs
The boy with the lemon tree legs
Was hanging his clothes out on pegs
His manner was dour
And his gait, it was sour
With little hope left, only dregs
But the girl with the apple tree eyes
Took lemon tree legs by surprise
She asked ‘Could I please
Take a fruit from your knees?
I’ve an order for leg lemon pies!’
Next time, we’ll meet his cousin. The boy with the willow tree w… Actually never mind.
This limerick is dedicated to my dog Floyd. It’s a nostalgic nod to his time as a puppy. He turned four this year but the scars of his youth remain. It’s a little known fact that puppies, like young humans, have baby teeth. These baby teeth are razors that slice through flesh like a hot knife through butter. I speak from experience. Painful, painful experience.
I love Floyd dearly, but he was a nightmare.
There once was a puppy called Floyd
Who men with bare feet would avoid
Or else feel the pangs
Of his sharp, puppy fangs
As the heels of their feet he destroyed
Grown in years…
…but not in wisdom