My friend @opinionatedgeek wanted a limerick about Libya.  He got one about Gaddafi instead : D


Geoff journeyed to Libya far,
To see mosques and the Med and bazaars,
He was rather happy,
Spotting Colonel Gaddafi,
And his full Amazonian Guard.

The orange faced ladies of Belfast.

A poem by request for @swmcc who wanted one about the poor orange faced ladies of Belfast.

Your face is all orange and sticky,
Your makeup applied far too thickly,
That tangerine glow,
From your head to your toes,
Makes you look like your liver is sickly.

Get back to triahtlon!

Lots of sporty requests recently, good to see everyone keeping their training up in winter not least of all @igglepiggle2 who needs encouragement to get back to triathlon!

Julie, get back to your training,
Your drive is seemingly waning,
It’s even more fun
Now winter’s begun
In the cold and the dark while it’s raining!

Your schedule will look so inciting
Now we’re lacking in natural lighting,
A’ running you’ll go
In a half foot of snow
And a cycle through storms, how exciting!


A limerick about them pesky students for the wonderful @kyleflanigan, by request.

Students please go to your classes,
Stop holding those riotous clashes,
Those hours spent in marching,
The government’s charging-
Are paid for by everyone’s taxes.

Arsenic based DNA

For the usually sporty @brianhc who wanted a sciencey poem on arsenic based DNA.  I demand you read some of my other science poems here here and here.

Poor arsenic he felt it unfair,
Electrons, he had but three spare,
He was soon turned away,
When god made DNA,
From carbon’s four lovely lone pairs.


Lisa does Cyclocross

A poem by request for the lovely @lisami75 about her branch into cyclocross.

Her cycling gets ever bolder,
Now the winter is wetter and colder
Forsaking the wheels,
To run through the fields
With her bike slung out over her shoulder

If she’s looking for mud well she’s got it
If you’re looking the bike she’s just bought it.
This sport is confusing,
What rules are they using?
If she’s looking for reason, she’s lost it.



Mark’s bike stunt.

A three verse one for Mark, who spent a lunch-break planning how to take his bike to the skies.

Mark had developed a plan
To cycle as fast as he can
The roads were too slow
To the sky he would go
Belfast’s airborne, cycling man.

His bike would be towed by a car,
To seventy-plus miles per hour,
The subject released,
His speed would increase,
With pedals providing the power.

A rocket propelling his flight,
His helmet so flat and so light,
He’d ride at mach 5,
‘Til barely alive,
Fit an oxygen tank to his bike!

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.