My Weekly Writing Challenge

Well, some of you certainly enjoyed last week’s writing challenge – Keith Channing! Scroll down to read some simply brilliant limericks.

This week’s writing challenge will gradually wean Keith off the limericks – it’s for a rhyming poem. Not every line has to rhyme, but they can if you like. It can be as short or as long as you like. Have fun!

Now you’re in for a treat:

Here are limerick king, Keith Channing‘s superb entries:

A feisty young female Etruscan
Wants to visit her cousin, a Tuscan
The rail line has blocks
From the fall of some rocks
So the train can’t get through; but a bus can.


I really did not have a clue
When asked for a lim’rick or two
So just as before
I started with four
And ended up with quite a few


The first to come out was okay
Though its content was really quite fey
Lines three and four rhyme
Well they do most the time
And that’s what is needed today


The next needed oodles of planning
As the poetic flames we were fanning
I pored o’er the metre
Drinking wine by the litre
I’ve forgotten my name; is it Channing?


I’m trying to write these for Esther
Whose home is in Berkshire, not Leicester
When she asks for this stuff
I go off in a huff
Like the Chester investor, Sylvester


I was hoping to find that hypnosis
Could help to relieve my psychosis
I asked Doc, “Will it work?”
He said, “Don’t be a jerk,
I can’t even give a prognosis.”


Un jeune auvergnat, je crois
A construit une maison en bois.
Quand l’hiver était dur
Il a brûlé les murs
Aujourd’hui il ne reste qu’un toit


Writing a lim’rick in French
Has a bit of a pretentious stench
Although it was tough
I think one was enough
Any more would prove too much a wrench.


Though most of my friends are conniving
To spend the whole evening jiving
I’ll have to write
For the rest of the night
Or I’ll be accused of skiving


So in front of my laptop I’ll sit
And edit my book bit by bit
Revising this draft
Is driving me daft
But I hope it will end up well writ


The news that I wanted a BAFTA
Prompted derogatory laughter
My film about Tosca
Was up for an Oscar
But that wasn’t what I was after.


Melanie went paragliding
While Jim Reeves sang about worlds colliding
The papers said Melanie
Had committed a felony
So she had to go into hiding.


The limerick moves with the times
While committing poetical crimes
But don’t count the cost
Or the meaning that’s lost
As long as the bloody thing rhymes


We started with something quite smelly
Followed by tinned fruit and jelly
Now both of the dogs
Are sleeping like logs
So we can sit back and watch telly


I once tried to eat andouillette
An experience I’d rather forget
It’s not haute cuisine
Tasting mid-way between
Tripe and something that died at the vet


When writing a lim’rick on cooking
I suddenly found myself looking
For a word to rhyme kitchen
Not bitchin’ or Hitchin
But something a little more hooking


When dealing with things theoretical
Don’t stray into regions heretical
You’ll anger the purists
While tickling the tourists
With expressions apologetical


If you find your beliefs disrespected
Don’t say that you just not affected
But sit round the table
As far as you’re able
And show we are interconnected


An overweight parliamentarian
Was reputedly disciplinarian
But it gave him some pause
When his favourite clause
Was described as completely barbarian


An eminent Harvard historian
While speaking in tones stentorian
Announced in a holler
“Why, I’m such a scholar,
They made me the valedictorian”


A priest who was octogenarian
Felt a calling to be vegetarian
He stopped eating meats
Lived on veggies and beets
And on various products agrarian

Naomi Harvey took up the challenge with a very entertaining limerick:

There once was a girl from the Shire
Whose writing practice was quite dire
She got quite a kick
Writing a Lymerick
Now her imagination’s on fire!

I’ll let Geoff Le Pard explain for himself:

Some of my father’s own or favourites (you will understand the man from these)

‘Fresh nose pickings,’ said Mrs McGroar
‘Can have practical uses galore
Fr’instance by folding
And carefully moulding
You can make condoms, cheap, for the poor.’

A non rhymer and non scanner…

There was a young lady from Bude
Who went for a swim in the lake
A man in a punt
Stuck a pole in her ear
And said, ‘You can’t swim here; it’s private

Jasdeep Kaur started with an ode to Keith and then soon found herself addicted:

Keith is definitely a limerick king,
whose limericks made me smile and sing.
I wonder though
where did he go
to fetch his magical golden ring!


Something mysterious held me back,
but now I’ve unbound my sack;
hope to never fail
or lose my trail.
It’s so difficult to keep our life on track.


Roses are red and violets are blue.
It’s so wonderful if the love is true.
But keep my warning.
It made Prince Charming
run in his palace carrying Cinderella’s shoe.


There’s no limerick without a pun,
rhyming trios and the element of fun,
the Duos with subtlety
placed within trinity
and the finale like a bullet from a gun.

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16 Responses to My Weekly Writing Challenge

  1. TanGental says:

    I only wish my dad and Keith could have met; he’d have loved it. These are all excellent

  2. jmsabbagh says:

    Splendid expressions.J.M

  3. I don’t generally do poetry, but here’s my effort anyway. I call it “Three times”.

    Three times I ascended that bluff.
    Three times. But it wasn’t enough.
    Three times in an hour
    From basement to tower.
    I tried not to cower
    When I came to the bower
    And sensed the great power
    Of the rare orchid’s flower.
    Three times.

    Three times the old man I espied.
    Three times. But he still nearly died.
    Three times in a week.
    As he started to speak
    My interest he’d pique
    Then descend to a squeak
    As his magic he’d wreak
    And I knew I was weak.
    Three times.

    Three times I passed under the waves
    Three times to he long-buried caves.
    Three times in a year
    I faced up to my fear,
    Stared into the sphere,
    Till the picture came clear,
    And the face did appear
    Of my late father dear.
    Three times.

  4. What was it you said about checking before posting? Verse three, line two, “he” should read “the” – although on my site I changed it to “those”, which I think, on reflection, is better.

  5. morganreedwriter says:

    Hi Esther,

    I was a student of yours at the Writers Bureau. Hope you’re well. I’m trying my hand at poetry and would like to submit some under my pen name, Morgan Reed.

    Silent Pain

    Reading was an escape Into a world of dreams. A way to run from life To hide from all the screams.

    Too many nights spent hiding From the fighting and the tears. Blood and shadows, shouting Dancing dreams and all fears.

    Darkness closes in, stifling No solace to be found. A happy home, a farce Pain is a silent sound.

    Frozen Fear

    Those icy fingers of fear consume And fill my soul with doom Anytime a person comes close I remember how I froze. The things that he did to me And how he ignored my plea As his hands closed around my throat Hope was all that kept me afloat. Each and every slap broke me down And left me in a sea of tears to drown Rivulets of blood ran down my leg The sting of shame from having to beg. Ignoring my cries, he still had his way Fear for my life, cause enough to pray That moment will always stay with me And a future alone is all I can see.

    Silent Whispers

    Whispers of the past echo through her, Fading memories of things that were. She bites her tongue, wanting to scream, Hiding in an endless daydream.

    Reality is too hard to swallow, Her soul broken, ever more hollow. Feeling empty, losing her mind, Nowhere to run, no help to find.

    She longs for her sadness to fade, And no longer to be afraid. Clinging to hope like early frost, To be found and no longer lost.

    Fragile Heart

    She rides the stars and dances upon moonlight, Searching in vain for love and hope in dreams. Darkness creeps in, stealing the warm sunlight, Shadows embrace and love is lost forever.

    Nightmares overwhelm and fear, her heart hardens, Romance and love have long been forgotten. She breathes lies till there are no more pardons, Till no solace or light is to be found.

    Fleeting glimpses of what she could have been, Leave her feeling empty, alone, broken. A life once lived, lost, and again unseen, Fragile pieces of the shell she’s become.

    Thank you and all the best!


    Regards, Elizabeth R.M Reed

    • Hi Liz, it’s great to hear from you again! I’m very well thank you. I’m thrilled you’ve taken up the challenge. Thank you for these lovely poems. How is everything going for you?

      • morganreedwriter says:

        Hi Esther,

        Things are good thanks. I’m doing a poetry course and have started working on a novel too.
        Have a great week and I’m glad you like the poems.


      • Brilliant. It sounds like the writing is going well. You have a great week too and please have a go at the challenge again 🙂

  6. JasonMoody77 says:

    Did you say poem? Oh, go on then.

    When I’m writing for fun, or writing at all
    There’s one thing that I must remember
    Grammar is tight, and spelling is write
    Or the whole thing starts to dismember

    Now I’m no Shakespeare, I’m a novice you see
    So forgive me, if my sentences drone
    It’s a long long road of learning you see
    And this craft I am trying to hone

    But in the end it’s all rather fun
    To simply let my mind wander
    To conceive new worlds and gentle folk
    To discover what marvels lie yonder

  7. Jasdeep Kaur says:

    Valentine’s Gift

    Bouquets of red roses
    the heart melting proposes
    overwhelming love cards
    poetic expressions of bards
    burning desire of proximity
    the air’s sizzling in the city.

    Valentine is the time
    to say, ‘You’re mine’.
    and look into the eyes,
    where all hatred dies,
    which always want to see
    your face glowing with glee.

    Hold the hand and share
    the love, admiration and care
    that brought you so near
    and wiped off all fear,
    and submerge in the embrace
    that effaces time and space.

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