Brian Allgar: A Singular Sin
My goal I may need to adjust;
The target was “Seven or bust” –
For one week, I would sin,
Giving each one a spin,
But I never got further than Lust.
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Martin Parker: Evelyn Revisited
Waugh’s Brideshead, I seem to recall,
Is a warning to Catholics all
Of the endless succession
Of guilt and repression
In store for those under Rome’s thrall.
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Julia Griffin: Clerical Conviction
The policemen might bluster and bicker:
Father Brown’s calculations were quicker.
“It’s a matter of faith,” he hissed,
“That the culprit’s an atheist,
Or a Jew, or an Anglican vicar.”
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Michael R. Burch: Flu Fly Flew
A fly with the flu foully flew
up my nose – thought I’d die – had to sue!
Was the small villain fined?
An abrupt judge declined
my case, since I’d “failed to achoo!”
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Martin Parker: Aftermath
The scar from my swift appendectomy
Is not right, there are those who object to me.
The surgeon’s dropped stitches
Have left me with itches
And a hole which looks just a bit rectumy.
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L. A. Mereoie: The Sound Of His Drum?
A Hunt let a rich volunteer
Pay to "carry the horn” for a year.
He found that his lip
Wouldn’t stay the whole trip
So now . . . he just plays it by ear.
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Martin Parker: Awful Eyeful
The thought of a quick iridotomy
Made my buttocks feel quite squeaky-bottomy.
Then the pain of the laser
Felt more like a Taser
And the sheer bloody fright really got to me.
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Brian Allgar: Guidelines
A clean limerick’s rather absurd;
Smutty anecdotes should be preferred.
Sex is what they’re about,
Though scatology’s out –
They should be obscene, but not turd.
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Jerome Betts: Flash Landing
An enthusiast, up with the lark
In a hot air balloon called The Spark,
Saw some pylons, lost height,
Caused a great burst of light,
But left hundreds of homes in the dark.
