Oh resolution
Grasping at glimmers of hope
Pain of weigh in day

How is the diet going?
Oh resolution
Grasping at glimmers of hope
Pain of weigh in day
Do my creative pursuits know no bounds?
Gym kit malfunction
who’d ever have imagined
hidden in small shorts
I know I am a grown man and that I should know better. I know I can produce things of a more edifying nature. I know should be a better example to my children and generally a better human being but alas I am not.
Look what dad made boys! Don’t tell mum!
It’s that time again
Once a virginal lassie from Bury
To her boyfriend she offered her cherry
“Damn wrong hole” she did cry
“You’re two inches too high!”
“Does it hurt?” he asked, she replied “Very!”
A lesson in the importance of being sensitive
She, orphaned at birth
Revealed, he comforts with sex
Moderate language
A dirty one about putting people in one’s mouth.
Astute mathematician, Horatio
Pythagarus Fan, loved fellatio
He could tell at first sight
If it’d fit or be tight
Could guess length, girth, and shaft to mouth ratio
Ruining Japanese poetry one drawing at a time
Time marches forward
Hearts once one, separated
Distance between us
One about everyone’s favourite racist
A piss coloured POTUS of note
Lost his job, is protesting the vote
With the loss of his powers
It’s back to golden showers
With hookers, be kind though, don’t gloat
Defiling the ancient beauty of Haiku one poem at a time!
Self isolating
Husbands false expectation
wife contacts HR
A warning to try on your jeans once a week
Self Isolating
Mere metres from the fridge
Unrelenting growth
With a flacid whimper
Christmas excess calls
There in the shade does not grow
what was once in light
It’s that time again
Once a virginal lassie from Bury
To her boyfriend she offered her cherry
“Damn wrong hole” she did cry
“You’re two inches too high!”
“Does it hurt?” he asked, she replied “Very!”
.
.
.
I had to do a wee but of research on this to get the imperial measurements as I am very much metric born and raised. Oh and yes I know, position matters here in the general up and down of things. Look you’ll work it out I am sure…Now my browser needs clearing. See the lengths I go to for your limericky pleasure!
Another one of these. Art all by my fair hands!
Crisp autumnal days
Filled with rage out on the streets
Dog shit ‘neath the leaves
Shall we? Been sooo long since we did.
Autumn Leaves appear
At last Moobs will stop sweating
Fattie hates summer
It’s that time again
A young cow hand alone on the range
Felt a stirring, peculiar and strange
Watched steers evening till dawn
Loved their rumps, and the horn
Well lets just say that it made him deranged
You’d think I would have given up by now wouldn’t you…
Once this bloke I know works in a kitchen
Sausage got his aroused, he was itching
For a night of rough sex
But by morn was most vexed
As his anus was torn and needs stitching.
Shall we?
Though chasms divide
Hearts long, sweet caress do crave
Such needs unfulfilled
More than 600 limericks and first time I have used ‘front bum’.
Yeah I know, surprised me too.
Woman, goodstanding of the judiciary
had a front bum that smelled like a fishery
She would hand down decrees,
Judgements, consider pleas
But if upwind then that was true misery.
Friday baby yeah!
Scant inhibitions
Do not neglect your hygiene
And scotch guard your couch
Hygiene. It matters.
Angles and filters
Perfect image does portray
Time the truth reveals
A Monday quickie for you
Broadband connected
God’s child once had no wifi
innocence stolen
Hey look leah I found my pen!
asbestos taste buds
faal, hot as satan’s anus
cooling yoghurt dip
Still not sure about these. Harder than they seem I tell ya!
Bright days end furnace
Crimson red and burnished gold
Quenched ‘neath horizon
Still not sure about these. Harder than they seem I tell ya!
silvery mistress
cold caress then turns away
always to return
god I need to work on these…
Just a normal haiku. Makes me feel a little dirty to be honest with you.
Rains turn autmn rust
and withering falll from bough
under foot to die
Oh I really don’t know about that. I even had to google ‘bough’. I mean I had to sit and consider the beauty of nature, how it made me feel, what emotions it evokes. That’s a lot of effort.
Far easier just rhyming Cock, sock and rock for a dirty limerick I reckon.
And screw you Monday too!
Sweet hyperbole
In pursuit of fair romance
oft on deaf ears falls