(the limericks here were originally posted on the tfc forums starting on 12/3/03 and ending 12/19/03. Authors are noted before the ones that they did. In a few cases they're slightly out of the original order.)
The man from Midgaard
There once was a man from Midgaard
Who was beaten and scarred
He woke one day
Seeking a fido to slay
But all he found was a dog
The elf from Malenest
There once was an elf from Malenest
Who liked to lay in an Aara's nest
He'd roll and he'd play
In the place that he'd stay
And considered it one of the best
The mayor and Slue
"The city is closed" the mayor did delare
His voice carried through Midgaard's air
He walked passed Slue
With his face turning blue
For Slue's bottom was bare
The mayor he did marry
And kept his wife in solitary
His wife he wouldn't miss
For he'd steal a quick kiss
From his one and only secretary
There once was a giant from Skor'lanis
He had a triangular head like a mantis
He wandered down the mountain
And stumbled upon a fountain
He drank until he could drink no more
He drank until his insides were sore
And his head exploded all around us
Stealing is just like an attack
That allows thieves to talk smack
"Ha ha! What was yours is now mine"
Is what it says on the thief's sign
'cause now he's going through your sack
There once was a gnome from Thistlerock
Who wore on his foot one old sock
Outside he would go
In the rain or in the snow
To look for parts for his clock
The peacekeeper from Safehaven
didn't know what he was savin'
But it came to him one day
That a pesky demon he must slay
And make the demon soup he'd been cravin'
There once was a quartermaster from Midgaard
Who in a fight with Merrick had become scarred
Cloaked in an aura the color of blue
He stands as big and as bad as Slue
To this very day
You can hear Borlan say
"To hell with you, Merrick,
I will make YOU pay!"
There once was a halfling named Took
who nobody knew was a crook.
He'd steal all the weed
out of pure stoner greed
and off to the hill he would book.
He found a stash by the healer
that looked a little familiar.
To the plantation he went.
A long time he spent
growing crops to become a dealer.
All those limericks wouldn't fit in a carriage,
but by no means am I trying to disparage.
Now prepare for the birth
of a thread of high worth
and, remember kiddies, no Zeks before marriage.
(and in response to edge stating "i'd make a limerick
if i could only remember the rules for em... *sigh*")
There's really no trick to it, Edge,
so back away now from that ledge.
Limericks have five lines
and a meter that shines.
The flow is the key, I allege.
While reading the work of DarkClaw,
I admit that I was in awe.
The attempts, they were great,
but it sure wasn't fate.
Part bliss, and part George Bernard Shaw.
In the kitchen stands the renowned chef, Tynian.
TFC is the banquet, epicurean.
I get famished for more
of what he has in store
for everyone, both immortal and plebeian.
Mind not the Head Mirthie's pun
We get this on ftell a ton
I can't say they're bad
He really gets quite mad
And trust me, there's nowhere to run!
Discussing our ftell on this forum, dear Schwartz?
Let us find out how your mortal body contorts
when you're hit with a rift.
You'll thank me for the gift.
Should I also mention the random teleports?
Well, now I've gone and done it
I've offended the Mirthiful pundit
Know this, my friend
I've caused my own end
Guess I'll just grin and guild-sit!
all these puns are too much for my head
can't you write epic poems instead?
it's a disgrace to the pen
is that out of your ken?
I'd kill myself if I weren't already dead!
Thank you Coleman and Schwartzie and more
Bringing humor, not threads full of gore
Or stooping to sling
an insult with zing
You're gentlemen, both, to the core.
Its hard to restrain, I admit
When everyone's throwing a fit
With a mouth full of bile,
they love to revile,
But you're always above all that .... *cough*.
Ink and pen, wit and word, always glee
Sharing humor, and laughter with me
My respect for you grows
with each line of prose
So thank you, fine lads and Okkie!
(And at this point i post, "not a limerick, but...
does anyone who put one here object if i post these
to my timeline? pm me if so")
Now Marisa, why would we be mad?
The rhymes themselves are terribly bad
But as you're aware
You, too, must share
To keep us from being offended and sad...
I'm going to get rifted for sure
Despite being suave and demure
See, puns are the thing
To Mirth, they're 'bling-bling'
And we get punished if they smell like manure.
You only live once, as they say
If you want to keep playing, you pay
Pay for these limericks I will
As Coleman refines his spellcasting skill
Don't make me keep doing this, okay?
Well now I guess I can't stop
Despite my limericks, they're a flop
It's just too much fun
A MIRTHIE MUST PUN!
(just brown-nosing the guy at the top!)
tsk, tsk to you, young elven lass
your one-liner is simply too crass
this thread's only for rhymes
perforce, post one more time
and mayhap then I'll hear what you ask
thanks Sabella for the kind things you said
and the authors of what I just read
there's been too much mudslinging
(all the good that that's bringing)
only humor will get us ahead!
Aw Schwartz, who knows why people'd get mad?
I only feel sad
When they rant and they rave
And they dance on my grave
And stand staring, as if I am bad.
But it's a crime you know,
To stand up and show
That you want to preserve -
Without ANY reserve
All these fine words as they glow.
Hm, perhaps "fine words" is too strong?
I don't know, it could be I'm wrong!
But ah the taste, and the flavor
Of bad puns I must savor
As we continue reading along.
Still, twenty years from now
When Khore's gone off to Kung-Pao
With his most favoritest vampris
A champ, like Pete Sampras
Here the words'll be, still up like the Dow
You ogre, you rock!
Calling my question crass!
I can't believe that, you MUST have meant grass.
I'm still so deeply in shock.
It must just be the rhyme
Or the effect of green slime
On such a literate ogre - and eloquent too!
Who'd have thought an ever-hungry creature like you
Could write poetry and limericks with great meter and time?
But now it is time for me to respond
'Fore anyone else fishes my pond
For I'm not sure I could ever compete
With limericks so great and so neat
I must sign off, your ever so fond
Marisa the Enchanted
The one who was granted
Charter member, chocaholics anonymous
With those have have canted.
I couldn't help but become sentimental
seeing an ogre with powers quite mental.
Then I thought to myself
"Possibly from an elf,
but from him, it must have been Okk-cidental."
Hi, my name is DarkClaw, and I'm a Limerist.
I lay awake in my bed
with these words in my head!
It's simply a crime
when you can't keep the time.
Limerick! I wish you'd never said!
Not necessarily better, you see,
when you rhyme like me,
with your foot a-tap
as you look at the map
and your hand patting your knee.
It's quite addictive to us.
It raises quite a fuss.
When your words do not match,
drink another, down the hatch!
And say a thing or two in cuss!
It's no wonder, you see,
that this we became to be,
with the bards and they're singing
and their drums and lutes ringing.
Which is better, keeping time or being on-key?
Perhaps I need a lesson or two
from Mylk, or from Oook, when he's eating Elf stew.
They could teach me to sing
and perhaps show me something,
and I could repay them with a limerick or few.
Alas, I am left
with this very same mess.
Oh, what do I do
with these words that I queue?
Share them with you all I guess!
Your Chocolate or Your Life!
There lives this Goddess named Bliss
who gives off the sweetest kiss.
Covered in chocolate, her lips,
from the cocoa she sips.
When she's gone the candy comes up amiss!
We can hardly get by
without our big sugar high.
When it comes to partaking
we're all in the making.
For a chocolate or two we would lie!
It comes down to this.
Do you get the jist?
If you don't have sweets,
better hustle your feets,
cause you'll be put on the big hex list!
ah Marisa, I heard you this time
when you posted with rhymes in your lines
it's so fun to converse--
all this talking in verse
and of course you may post what you find
Ode to the Imms
Ladislaw was much in distress
when he found his shop robbed and a mess
his store will not last long
with his chocolate all gone
by the greed of the Chocolate Goddess!
Ode to the Imms
dutiful Weaver is she
weaving the world's tapestry
the Chosen she leads
always help those in need
ever serving the will of the Three
Ode to the Imms
he likes to hang out in a crypt
with dragonscale he is equipped
always spreading the word
of Lord Nash with the sword
his Conclave will thank you for the gift
Ode to the Imms
armed with a helmet and lance
on delicate threads did she dance
she took a gamble and lost
and quite dear was the cost
what an end for the Goddess of Chance
Ode to the Imms
his ebon hand tortures his soul
and he stared too long into a sigil
spreading dark secrets seen
just beyond sanity
shadowed by the powers of old
Ode to the Imms
although he's incredibly short
his size does not show you his worth
writing code in all day
just so that we can play
implementing our world is this dwarf
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