John Suprenant

Here’s to the girl with the matching tattoo.
You left without leaving a clue.
You went far away.
I just wanted to say,
The one who lost out was you!

Claire Selman

Conversing once gave me a high,
But it seems something's gone quite awry.
If “lol” or “ok”
is all you can say,
I’d rather you just not reply.

Tom Causey

Bloom's day, his wife Molly, is spoilin'.
But he sighs and resumes his day's toilin'.
He frets about life
And regrets that his wife
Needs Blazes to get her blood Boylan.

Patrick McKeon

Ulysses gave Joyce a headache,
Since he wrote it with hardly a break,
He then started drinking
To deaden his thinking
Resulting in Finnegans Wake

Darrel Wanamaker

There once was a day called Blooms.
About flowers you'd be wrong to presume.
But, to Ulysses and Joyce,
We'll all give a voice
At O’Brien's on the 16th of June!

Henry Rosen

Anniversary dinner sounds nice.
I would take you out in a thrice;
But our children are here,
So I won't interfere.
God be willing, next year we'll go twice.

Jeff Sklut

"Setima" once was the star,
Now "Septima" took its place on the spar.
I'm rather perplexed,
Trying to figure what's next
How about changing YBOR to YBAR?

Steve Garbee

Writing lim'ricks is often great fun,
And a thrill when at last you are done.
But the problem, you see
That plagues you and me
Is rhyming with line number one

Samantha Ashley

Enjoyin’ a Ginnis at the bar of O’Brien,
I’m lookin’ hot, you know I aint lyin’
The guy to my right,
Is outa sight,
All my drinks tonight he’ll be buyin’

Darrel Wanamaker

This Sunday is the Day for all Mothers.
Mine's the best, no disrespect to others.
Since conception and birth,
She's always put me first...
Could be ‘cause I don’t have a Brother!

Samantha Ashley

A proud Floridian I may be,
A little into myself, maybe.
But I got a man,
And I got a tan,
So it’s OK to wish you were me.

John Suprenant

A man and a woman went drinking.
They drank and drank without thinking.
A beer and a shot
Got both of them hot.
They were lovers without even blinking.

There once was a girl who could sing

And her voice she did think a fine thing.

She hit a high “c,”

Which she sang with great glee,

‘Til the ears of her listeners did sting.

There once was a writer named Joyce

Whose consciousness had its own voice.

His novel was banned,

And oftentimes canned,

But seldom read more than twoice.

There once was a sad dinosaur

Who thought his whole life was a bore.

No fun would he see,

No Books or TV

For six hundred million years more.

A young psychic midget named Marge


Went to jail with the most heinous charge
.

But despite lock and key
,

The next day she broke free


And the headlines read "Small Medium at Large"

There was a young lady of Niger

Who smiled as she rode on a tiger.

They returned from the ride

With the lady inside,

And the smile on the face of the tiger.

The limerick is furtive and mean

You must keep her in close quarantine

Or she sneaks to the slums

And promptly becomes

Disorderly, drunk and obscene.