Limerick: When Losing Brings New Beginnings

My Limerick

We got invited to a St. Paddy’s Day party.

“Bring a limerick,” the invitation said. “It’s a contest.”

A limerick contest!  Surely I could win.

Or come in second. Or third.

“Extra points for bawdy limericks.”

Hmm. A bawdy limerick.

I’d never written anything bawdy.

I pondered.

I let my menopausal mind wander.

A streak!

How funny to picture partygoers tossing off their clothes and streaking, especially since at least some guests would be OF A CERTAIN AGE.

I worked hard on my limerick. The words. The theme. The rhythm. The rhyme.

“May I illustrate it?” I asked our host a few days before the party.

“Sure,” she said.

I had never drawn a naked man before.

At least not an anatomically correct naked man.

On party night, I kept my limerick folded in my pocket until my turn came to step up to the mic.

Then with my best dramatic flair, I read the limerick.

When I finished, I handed my paper to the judges.

Handing over poem

Twenty minutes later…

Time to announce the winners!

After a Bailey’s Irish Cream shot to calm my nerves, I held my breath.

And then I let that breath out with a sigh.

I lost.

I didn’t really lose. I got Honorable Mention, along with a mess of other limerick-writers.


The booby prize I received for being the only partygoer to illustrate a limerick spurred me on to a new venture.

Bawdy cartoons!

Someone told me I didn’t have the boy parts right on my drawing. I’ll need to do some studying up.

Organize your own streak, Barbara!

For the life of me, I can’t get a man to write a post for Friend for the Ride.

Wonder if I can get any men to attend my streak?


Naked Men