#1
help me pit, i need a limerick.

edit: i also need an ode
Quote by RU Experienced?
See the FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUU- thread, he's a God amongst men.

^^ about me


Confucius once say: "Women is like jazz music, 3/4 jazz time, 1/4 ragtime."

This is my sig, get over it. ಠ_ಠ
#2
one day i bought a guitar
i thought it would get me far
but instead of practicing i lurked the Pit
and now i live in my car
#3
i told you, give me a topic and ill give you a limerick. i dont feel like thinking of a topic.
.
..
...
I have no opinion on this matter.
#5
There once was a man from Bonaire
Who was doing his wife on the stair
When the banister broke
He doubled his stroke
And finished her off in midair
#7
Quote by jmilli2
There once was a man from Bel-Air
Who was doing his wife on the stair
When the banister broke
He doubled his stroke
And finished her off in midair

Fixed.
#8
Quote by tyler_j
There once was a man from Nantucket


The stories about him are greatly exaggerated

way to steal, you big stealer you

but then again.. I stole from the Simpsons as well
#9
Quote by Zugunruhe
i told you, give me a topic and ill give you a limerick. i dont feel like thinking of a topic.



anything as long as its funny.


uhh here's a challenge, make one about being rickrolled or rick astley or sumthing? lol
then if my teacher asks me about it, i can rickroll her, hahaha
Quote by RU Experienced?
See the FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUU- thread, he's a God amongst men.

^^ about me


Confucius once say: "Women is like jazz music, 3/4 jazz time, 1/4 ragtime."

This is my sig, get over it. ಠ_ಠ
#10
the one was a soldier named edso
he spent most time at bedso
one morning at 1
someone fired their gun
and edso in bedso was deadso
#11
NOOOOOOOOWWWW

this is a story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down now i'd like to take a minuet, just sit right there i'll tell you how i became the prince of a town called bel air...


...good?
#12
Quote by dragoo-mon
the one was a soldier named edso
he spent most time at bedso
one morning at 1
someone fired their gun
and edso in bedso was deadso


that's ****
#13
Dave spent his life trying to rhyme.
He did it for hours at a time.
He got sick of it.
And threw a fit.
And then he stopped.
#14
The limerick packs laughs anatomical
In space that is quite economical,
But the good ones I've seen
So seldom are clean,
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

*cough*
#16
Quote by dragoo-mon
the one was a soldier named edso
he spent most time at bedso
one morning at 1
someone fired their gun
and edso in bedso was deadso

As pathetic as that was, it made me laugh pretty hard.
#17
There once was a man named Nate,
The lack of Gatorade made him dehydrate
He went the store
and bought some more
so dehydrated no more was my mate
grok it.

SKREAM!

Listen to jazz, it's good for you...
Last edited by dubstar92 at Nov 26, 2008,
#18
Quote by my_lemonade_tap
one day i bought a guitar
i thought it would get me far
but instead of practicing i lurked the Pit
and now i live in my car



This makes me lol.
wen i ask they say that they fall into the habit smhw ........but nyways i think there is a connection smwhere. Now i being a teetollar will not give into this habit nyhw

FOR JUST £2 A WEEK, YOU CAN PREVENT THIS.
#19
Now, this is a story all about how
My life got flipped-turned upside down
And I liked to take a minute
Just sit right there
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air
#20
Quote by Tommy Walker
Now, this is a story all about how
My life got flipped-turned upside down
And I liked to take a minute
Just sit right there
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air


...i said that


but nice
#21
In west Philadelphia born and raised
On the playground was where I spent most of my days
Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool
And all shootin some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys
#22
Quote by Tommy Walker
In west Philadelphia born and raised
On the playground was where I spent most of my days
Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool
And all shootin some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys

already beaten to it
grok it.

SKREAM!

Listen to jazz, it's good for you...
#23
I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror
If anything I can say this cab is rare
But I thought 'Now forget it' - 'Yo homes to Bel Air'
#25
There was a man in Alabama,
Who tried to make love to his grandma.
He begged and pleaded, but all she said,
"Go **** yer younger sister instead."
#26
haha, i see no one has tried to do an ode D:
Quote by RU Experienced?
See the FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUU- thread, he's a God amongst men.

^^ about me


Confucius once say: "Women is like jazz music, 3/4 jazz time, 1/4 ragtime."

This is my sig, get over it. ಠ_ಠ
#28
Quote by Anonymous9001
The limerick packs laughs anatomical
In space that is quite economical,
But the good ones I've seen
So seldom are clean,
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

That's quite good. It's so good I suspect copypasta.

A limerick I need, he said to me.
A limerick indeed! said I to he.
So I wrote down five lines,
And in just a short time--
I can't conclude this well. So sue me.

SHEdit: What are the characteristics of an ode?

[IN PHIL WE TRUST]


Quote by Trowzaa
I only play bots. Bots never abandon me. (´・ω・`)

#29
Quote by xyz66
haha, i see no one has tried to do an ode D:


I'll do one... I wrote this yesterday. It's called Ode to a Nightingale

MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,
That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South!
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stainèd mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs;
Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast-fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that ofttimes hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep?