Laughing Along With A Limerick

Here’s your Monday smile – it’s limerick time. Send in your own or here’s a prompt for you –

GLUE

Here are a few limericks to make you smile this Monday. The prompt was MAD:

Keith Channing:

They suggested I must be a chump

To admit that I’ve got a real hump

I said, “I’m not mad,

Just terribly sad.

At the thought of four more years of Trump.”

Paul Mastaglio:

Lockdown ain’t all bad,

Gives you time for a new fad,

It could even make you smile,

At least for a while,

Until you’re driven stark raving mad.

Christine Mallaband-brown:

The noise is incredibly bad

– they bought drums for the young lad.

The noise from next door

Is making my head sore!

And it’s absolutely driving me mad!

Trent’s World:

Reading the news makes me mad

Some of our leaders are awfully bad!

They haven’t a wit

Morals? Not one bit

The shape of our world is pretty sad.

*

She was mad as a March hare

Romping around without a care

Until, in her mirth

She was dressed as at birth

And was arrested for being bare.

*

My love for you is more than deep

Mad and passionate in a heap

But you care not

For my sorry lot

And seem to think I’m a creep…

Lyncrain:

Once there was a strange man who was mad

He may even have behaved quite bad

Rumors flew, like wildfire

the children he did sire

making his wife quite bitter and sad.

Ritu:

There was a young man from Baghdad

Who lived in fear of his dad

For girls weren’t his thing

Boys made his heart sing

His father would go totally mad!

Kim Smyth:

A girl always dressed for the fad

Which made her poor mom really mad

The girl wanted to wear black

Putting mom on the attack

So she burnt all her clothes, which was sad.

Geoff Le Pard:

‘My life’s so dull,’ said Sir Galahad,

‘Being seen as good is driving me mad.

All of this adulation,

Has given me constipation.

In future I will present as a cad.’

Rhen Laird:

Much as I applaud her beauty, Moon can drive me mad

And leave me lachrymose, despairing, oh so very sad…

But as a poet, I’m drawn to her penultimate allure

Compelled, yearning, piteous, begging silver’d tincture…

Thus, soonest she’s filled to brim, finished thrashing my mortal soul—I’m glad.

***

My First Time On A Podcast!

Last week, I was delighted to be interviewed by author, Sacha Black on her podcast, The Rebel Author Podcast. We spoke about how I was her writing tutor when she first started out many moons ago with The Writers Bureau, as well as about my new book and how writers can make money from readers’ letters, fillers, articles, short stories and competitions.

I have to admit I was very nervous. I’d not done anything like that before, and hoped I didn’t stumble over my words, but I needn’t have worried. I thoroughly enjoyed it and found it great fun! If you’d like to listen to it, you’ll find it here.

Guest Blog Post

Last week, I announced the results of my short story competition. To read the wonderful winning story, please click here. It got me thinking about my guest blog post slot I used to have a while ago, featuring stories and poems from fellow writers. I’d like to kick-start it again. So if anyone would like to be featured on my blog, with a story, poem or non-fiction piece, please contact me: estherchilton@gmail.com

I’m looking for stories and non-fiction pieces of up to 1500 words and poems of up to 40 lines. If you can also send me a photo and a little bit about yourself too, that would be great. I look forward to hearing from you!

Can You Tell A Story In…

It’s Thursday and your new five-word challenge is here. Last week, I wanted to know about your SLEEP. This week, I want to know about your EVENING. So can you tell a story in five words, using the word EVENING in it somewhere?

Here are your SLEEPY stories from last week:

Ritu:

Sleep seem elusive, some nights.

Can’t sleep in this heat.

All I need is sleep.

Christine Mallaband-Brown:

Shopping, food, eat then sleep…

Cats sleep all day long!

Sleep by an active volcano?!

I have sleep aponea now.

Sleep on that thought- sucker!

You sleep, I’ll drive home.

EDC Writing:

Sleep walking, wrong room excuse.

Sanjuna:

Sleep my tired mind orders.

Mindful calm sleep I need.

Rhen Laird:

Sleep…dangerous land unavoidably travelled.

Sarah Evans:

Sleep. I always need more!

Val Fish:

Sleep impossible with snoring spouse.

Counting sheep supposedly induces sleep.

Sleep, sleep, where art thou?

Tessa:

Sleep, what is the definition?

I sleep during the day.

I can’t sleep at night!

Sleep apnea keeps me awake!

Sleeping alone is the best!

Bharul Chhatbar:

Let all evils forever sleep.

No negativity, all in sleep.

Rejuvenating, relieving, refreshing, relaxing sleep.

Calm mind, good sleep, nirvana.

***

Book Review – Preposterous Tales From The Newbury Short Story Teller

I first became aware of The Newbury Short Story teller, aka Martin Strike, while I was editing my local Cats Protection magazine. His lovely wife wrote a piece about the cat they’d recently adopted from the charity. Martin emailed me to see if I’d be interested in using a story he’d written in the magazine as well. Unfortunately, I couldn’t use it in the magazine, but I loved the story so much I asked if I could use it on my blog. Since then, Martin’s entertaining stories have featured on my blog several times.

Martin decided to put together a number of his stories and to bring them out in a collection. Each story has some relevance to Newbury, the town we both live in. As I’m Newbury born and bred, and I love Martin’s writing, I was keen to read them. The blurb says:

‘Velvet Owl are proud to publish this trove of 16 humorous short stories set in an alternative Newbury where inhabitants are often bitter, twisted or just plain bonkers. Whether you are a Newburian or not, you are invited to read of debacles at the Newbury Model Train Enthusiasts Society, egg rivalries, the pratfalls of a hypochondriacal antique collector and the unlikely effects of drinking dishwater. It’s got more twists than the Kennet & Avon canal, not that that has any twists. Please note that 10% of books price will be donated to the Daisy Garland Charity – which supports children with drug-resistant epilepsy and their families.‘

If you’re looking for entertainment, then this book is it. Being a Newburian, the stories held special meaning for me, but you don’t need to know the slightest thing about Newbury to enjoy the stories. Martin has a way of thinking completely outside the box and then some! Several of the stories had me giggling away to myself. My favourite has to be The Turbothrob Triple-X, followed closely by Mobile Groans. A thoroughly recommended read.

Funny Of The Week

I think I’ll have the chocolate croissant rather than the bagel…

Laughing Along With A Limerick

It’s Monday! Again! It comes round so quickly. It’s also limerick time. Send in your own or here’s a prompt for you –

MAD

Here are a few limericks to make you smile this Monday. The prompt was SCREECH:

Keith Channing:

Whilst studying night-flying fowl

My gaze landed on a Screech Owl

I thought it a scoop

Till it started to poop

Can somebody pass me a towel?

Tales From The Mind of Kristian:

A lesson in weight loss I thought I’d teach,

But then I heard an almighty screech

I ran into the kitchen

And saw her cravings were itching

I’d put the chocolate up way out of reach.

Paul Mastaglio:

It was just out of reach,

It was enough to make you screech,

My favourite jar on the top shelf,

I was only trying to be kind to myself,

I said through gritted teeth.

Christine Mallaband-brown:

I went for a drive to the beach

And bought ice creams at one pound each.

I sat by the water

But then my young daughter

Dropped her lolly with one hell of a screech!

Kim Smyth:

Vacation may be out of reach

If we don’t go I will screech!

Hubs needs a break

And I need the lake

Or better yet, a lovely beach!

Lyncrain:

There were two men at the local beach

One of them made up his mind to screech

The other hung his head

There’s nothing to be said

When fools flock together for a speech.

Marsha:

A young woman on Tuesday did teach

But she wanted to get to the beach.

When she opened the door

A box fell to the floor,

“Kids, we caught her!” she started to screech.

Val Fish:

As they were picnicking on the beach

Mum suddenly let out a huge screech

From right out of the sky

A greedy gull swung by

And swiftly swooped off with her peach.

Rhen Laird:

Though she often felt zealous calling to preach

Pulpit-fright caused stress that her voice might well screech

Her message: ‘Have courage, be of good cheer’

But murmurs would rise, someone saying, “can’t hear”

Standing taller she’d begin fresh, to let God’s grace-words reach!

Geoff Le Pard:

They say if you can’t do, teach.

Which led them to ask of Ms Bleach

The question: ‘can she

really be a banshee

If she can’t scream let alone screech…?’

***

Writers Bureau Guest Blog Post

I was delighted to be featured as a guest writer on The Writers Bureau’s blog yesterday:

It was when one of my students had a reader’s letter published that the idea for my latest book started to take shape.

“It’s only a reader’s letter,” she said, “but it means the world to me. I’m published!”

For a few months, she’d been sending work out and either not heard back, or received a rejection. Understandably, she’d started to feel a little despondent and wondered if she was ever going to be published.

Then came that first moment of success. It was swiftly followed by a short filler being accepted. She emailed me a few weeks later to tell me she couldn’t believe the confidence that one reader’s letter had given her. She realised that she could write and now she’d had a few small successes, she wanted more and was going to work on some articles.

To read more of the post, click here.

And The Winner Is…

Thank you to everyone who entered my short story competition. I had some super entries, from a touching one about a mum, to a gripping one about the current pandemic. Then, there were humorous ones that made me laugh out loud, quirky ones that made me smile and several where the writer had thought outside the box.

But, my winner is Darlene Foster for her very atmospheric story, As the Crow Flies. Darlene has a way of taking you right to the scene so you feel as if you’re completely absorbed in the story, from beginning to end. Sit back and enjoy…

As the Crow Flies

By

Darlene Foster                                                                      

I didn’t know what had happened. Not at first. And then I knew.

Crows sprang from the misty marshland like bullets fired from a Winchester rifle. Their sorrowful caws sent shivers through my body. The smell of death rose with their nefarious wings as they vanished into the low-lying, ominous clouds.

I absently followed the familiar path. I could have walked it with my eyes closed like I did when I was a child. When I danced happily along the path, making up stories in my head and believing a handsome prince would come around a corner any minute.

That was before Mother went missing and Father went mad. Before my brothers went to college and my sister moved to the States. I remained on the home farm alone.

Someone had to be there in case Mother returned.

I glanced up at the darkening sky to see the crows swarming and ducked as they whooshed over me. Never before had I seen so many at one time. Trying to recall the collective term for crows, I stooped down again, holding my hands over my head as they zoomed by once more.

The crows flew into the marsh, landing in a cluster. I stared at the black mass with raised eyebrows. A whiff of decay drifted my way. I left the path and crept closer. 

Feeling my way in the soggy bog, my heart thundered and my breath caught in my throat. I was never allowed off the path. But the crows summoned me.  

They shrieked louder. The dank, fetid smell grew stronger. I drew nearer.

Images of that day flashed before me. Mother at the sink washing the breakfast dishes, so pretty in her red and white checked shirt-waist dress. I shook my head to erase the image. It hurt too much.

“I’m going for a walk,” I had shouted as I skipped out the door.

“Be careful and stay on the path,” Mother warned, as always.

“Don’t worry. I will.”

I got caught in a sudden rain shower and found refuge by a large rock. When I arrived home everyone was waiting for me. Everyone but Mother. My lovely mother who had gone to look for me but never came back.

I squeezed my eyes shut and brushed away a tear. When I opened my eyes, I saw it. A piece of red and white checked cloth in the beak of a snarling crow.

“Where did you get that?” I shouted as I stumbled after the pilferer, my water-laden hiking boots heavy and cumbersome.

I fell face first in the slimy mud and reached for the reeds to hoist myself up. They parted, revealing a myriad of crows. Crows resting on bones. Bones partially covered with a faded, ripped red and white dress.

I choked back a scream.                                                          

Then I knew what happened to Mother.

And then I remembered the term.

A murder of crows.

***

A copy of The Siege will be winging its way to you, Darlene. Thank you so much for your deliciously dark story!

Can You Tell A Story In…

It’s Thursday and your new five-word challenge is here. Last week, I wanted to know about your SHOPPING. This week, I want to know about your SLEEP. So can you tell a story in five words, using the word SLEEP in it somewhere?

Here are your SHOPPING stories from last week:

Ritu:

Yay! Shopping! Oh no! Queues!

I prefer online shopping now.

Shopping list full of chocolate.

My shopping bags are heavy.

Always forget my shopping bags…

Darlene:

When can we go shopping?

I need shopping therapy now!

Shopping used to be fun.

He hated shopping for clothes.

Paul Mastaglio:

You can now go shopping.

Really? Shopping’s so much fun!

Shopping heaven. Lots to buy!

Christine Mallaband-Brown:

Hubby shopping? Oh my gawd!

Cheese and wine shopping list?

My shopping needs washing now.

Her shopping order was late.

Shopping? Just get alcohol please.

Roberta Writes:

It lay among the shopping.

The shopping bag burst open.

The shopping bag smelled bad.

Sanandi-jacq:

Shopping? What’s that? Spending money!

Shopping? Can’t find plastic bags!

Can’t touch! No fun shopping.

Clothes shopping? Fumigation? No way!

Kim Smyth:

Not shopping wearing a mask!

No shopping til weight lost!

I love shopping for liquor!

EDC Writing:

Shopping male? Gender breaking typo.

Rhen Laird:

Shopping…the thrill is gone.

Deeply Shreded:

Crazy lad go shopping, Brain!!

Bharul Chhatbar:

Shopping in this pandamic? Really?

Shopping, once was an enjoyment.

Shopping, where should we go?

Chill, shrill, shopping all done!

Simon Farnell:

Shopping done – Now to eating!

A man shopping? Whatever next?

I think Kev’s hopping mad!

Tessa:

Shopping, mask, cough, weird looks!

Shopping? Six feet apart, please.

Shopping now a worse chore!

Shopping? Get away from me!

Shopping police, 6 feet apart!

No face mask, no shop!

***