The Woman with the Extra Leg

Photo by Anderson Guerra on

The woman with the extra leg stepped ineptly from the train.
The op on her had worked, but weirded out her brain.
Her eyes were white, her neck was green, her nose a pretty blue:
Once she had an even tone, now her skin showed every hue.
The purple bag she toted clashed acutely with her hair:
An orange-cream confection, which had once been long and fair.
The crowd pretended not to notice, but there arose a hum;
I pushed my way right through them all to hug my gorgeous Mum.
Her arms are square, her fingers fat, her stomach inside out,
But without the operation, she’d have suffered, I’ve no doubt.
It made her well and I am glad to think it a success;
Though how I wish that there had been fewer side-effects.

Today Is World Limerick Day

Photo by Luciann Photography on Pexels.comI’m guessing this is the actual town of Limerick, Ireland

They say on the twelfth of May
It will be World Limerick Day
If the whole world would write
Five fun lines, I’d bite
But read 7 billion? No way!

Dear Reader, I’m challenging you
I hope that you won’t misconstrue
Won’t you please have a go?
If you didn’t know
Limericks are such fun to do


They’re a doddle to write:

  • Five lines
  • Lines 1+2+5 rhyme
  • Lines 3+4 rhyme
  • Usually funny, but no pressure here (you read mine, didn’t you?)

May the Fourth

May the fourth be with you
From all the Thtar Warth crew


Having fun with an old pun 😉

I mutht thay, in my one-thided date war againtht the UEthA, I wath delighted to learn that the firtht offithial uthe of May the Fourth actually occurred in the UK!

Read more here.

May the Fourth be with you!

Of course, being wise, old and wrinkly, Yoda would say it the British way:

Fourth the May with you be!

But A Dream

This one is more Brit-centric, I’m afraid.

I stood upon a burning ship
Bedecked in frills and lace.
An anchor hit me in the head
Leaving unmarked my face.

I turned and spied a lurking pack
Encased in silver thread.
One waved out with abandon,
Holding a knife and slice of bread.

He padded close to me and smiled,
Arrh! This is the country life.
I have hunted long for Kerry gold
And a beauty for a wife

Now I’ve fallen into clover,
And with that he stalked away.
Clover? thought I. There’s no flora here.
What a most peculiar day!

Beauty? thought I. That I am not.
Why is nothing as it seems?

And then I had the answer:
Ah, yes! This is butter dream!


I love writing nonsense poems and I love writing poems where the reader has to figure something out…can you figure out how many brands of butter and margarine are included in this poem?


by Rijksmuseum is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0

Another palindrome date!
Don’t yank my chain, dear colonists;
don’t give me calendar politics:
the day comes first and then the month.
One goes behind; one stays in front.
Whatever you think, I reckon
it’s said April twenty-second

…oh, wait…


For more on my one-sided feud with America, see these posts:




Her Guy

If her guy thought he had sunshine on what was – by his own admission – a cloudy day; and believes May was indoors (say what?); had a swarm of bees on his tail; reckoned his wailing sounded better than the birds in the trees (at least they were outside); and didn’t even have any money or fortune (or grasp of tautology) and no fame to his name (though that was clearly a lie; a little disingenuous, don’t you think?), then I submit his girl was probably better off without him. I know I wouldn’t be tempted.

How Does A Pope Cope?

Photo by Alena Darmel on

How does a pope cope with being Pope?
I hope he does not smoke dope
or mope around
or grope the cardinals
or lope about, laughing aloud or lashing out –
so undignified for he who aspired to lead billions.
I do hope he’s nice to his minions.

Does he ever reach the end of his rope
and wonder whether to sever the tether?
But he can’t resign; he can only die
and that’s not a good sign
for enjoying the rest of his life.
He can’t even marry a wife.

He might shout, Nope! I’m done as pope!
I slithered down the slippery slope
and believed the hype
and now I find I’m
not the pope type.
I have no time to tarry.
Do not be shocked when I elope
with a defrocked nun.
I’m just so very done.