Anthology of Nonsense Verse

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Reading Time: 13 minutes

The Significant League (TSL) and Different Truths (DT) together offer nonsense verse, 73 limericks, and nine other poems, one be each poet, featuring 82 poets. This anthology of the TSL has been put together by two eminent poets, Shabir Ahmad Mir & Ampat V. Koshy. The editors of this anthology include two other renowned poets, Fatima Afshan and Santosh Bakaya. TSL and DT wish you a wonderful Sunday.

                                                    Shabir Ahmad Mir & Ampat V. Koshy

National Poetry Writing Month injected a fresh vigour into our Facebook poetry group, The Significant League (TSL). The wall of this group suddenly saw a huge increase in the poetry being posted, both qualitatively and quantitatively. An interesting development was writing and posting poems based on specific prompts, other than unprompted poetry. The prompts were selected from the suggestions made by the members of the group.

For April 15, the prompt selected was ‘Limericks’ as suggested by a prominent poet, Santosh Bakaya. People could post any number of limericks on that day, said the founder Ampat V. Koshy. Such was the allure of Limericks that even before the selected day (April 15) various members of TSL began to post limericks. And quite a variety of limericks we had, slapstick, bawdy, satirical, farcical, witty, screwball, so forth and so on.

There was structural variety as well. Besides the traditional 5-line, ‘aabba’ rhyming limericks there were lot of innovative ones posted as well (rhyming differently from the aabba scheme). These were non-rhyming ones with multiple stanzas; non 5-liners, etc. In short, it was a carnival and burlesque.

Such was the impact of this ‘limericky’ gaiety that soon Different Truths (DT) agreed to publish a collection of the limericks. Since the number of limericks posted in TSL was huge, it was decided that a single Limerick from each contributing member would be selected, besides preference would be given to such limericks that would be without personal references (the humour, pun or satire would be lost to the readers in such cases) and those adhering to traditional format (for its mellifluousness).

Thus, here we are, presenting to you, Anthology of Nonsense Verse, in continuance with the tradition of Edward Lear. Have a merry time reading them in all their variety of form and content, including ones that are not ‘limericks,’ except by an adroit leap of the imagination! There are 72 limericks that more or less fit into the pattern and nine that do not. But all are amazing as due to the prompt not having a theme, the content is amazingly varied, dealing with topics as varied as sex, love, politics, satire, scatology, a mysterious character called Inca Write etc., making the collection or compilation which, we have playfully titled an Anthology of Nonsense Verse, therefore, an enchanting read; light and serious by turns but mostly extremely enjoyable.

            Editors: Shabir Ahmad Mir, Fatima Afshan, Santosh Bakaya & Ampat V. Koshy



There was a short, lusty man who lived in Dale.
He wagged his tail after every gorgeous female.
He once wanted to make out;
Too bad his woman found out.
She got pretty mad and threw him in the jail!


© Urooj Murtaza



There was a poet, oh! What a creature!
Goggled eyes, bulbous nose, funny features!
The King asked him to recite
But he had sat on a pot of Dendrite!
Got stuck, cried buckets, & blamed a trickster!

 © Mallika Bhowmik



The VLC played ‘The Jungle Book.’
My child-like curiosities shook.
It was over,
I clicked another folder-
Tarzan opened the hook.

© Daipayan Nair



There was a girl named Sally,
Who smoked weed in the alley.
Had hallucinations so colourful,
Thought life was so wonderful.
She didn’t know she was doing dilly dally!

© Sreemathi Ravi



My words were meant to weave magic,
Sadly though they retired sick
And fell flat
On my iPad.
Now, I am stuck with a Limerick.

© Ananya Chatterjee



They say move on and be brave,
Smiling! I am not a slave.
Restricted and forced,
Handcuffed and Coerced.
Love is love, not a game of slave and enslave!

© Perveiz Ali



She scowled; he smiled.
It made her mad and even wild.
She pulled a face.
He ran a race,
With a rose and ring to the finishing line.

© Shruti Goswami



In a faraway town called Cacophony,
Resided a symphonist named Marcony.
He dreamt of becoming Mozart;
Composed a mellifluous fart.
Swollen noses lauded his symphony.

© Rahul Ahuja



You call me a dirty girl.
The lizard ticks in the dining hall,
I cry, oh cry!
The wry crow sighs!
Just then you come in a flash and do my undone curls.

© Ritamvara Bhatacharya



A self-styled God man – Baba Ramdev,
Teaches tummy tricks night and day.
In Yoga lessons he warns,
“You might lose your charm
If you don’t chant regularly Bharat Mata ki Jay.”

© Pushpa Moorjani



The iceberg of death,
Tried his hands at meth.
Looking for some heat,
He got beat.
And got robbed, out of his breath.

© Gauri Dixit



Mr & Mrs Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
From where they saw a shopping mall.
Mrs Humpty wailed.
He got nailed,
Pushed her down and let her fall.

© Deepti Singh.



I know a Chatterjee who’s a game.
And on her I do put this blame,
She does not chatter
When it does matter,
And can’t justify her surname.

©Amit Shankar Saha



And so it goes, love laughter limerick.
It meanders on in, oh! So many styles- maverick!
It’s been such fun,
And hearts were won.
All together, it’s been just terrific!

© Ipsita Ganguli



There was an abusive man from Hindoncity.
His vocabulary a masterpiece of profanity.
He called a dog a dog,
Which with ire was agog.
In retaliation, it bit him with canine ferocity.

©Santosh Bakaya



My toddler wants to say, “Applesauce.”
But ends up saying a sweet, “Applause.”
I give her an apple,
And she calls it people.
I am left wondering which is gross.

©Hamna Labeeb



She was one of many, juddering and shaking, the belly dancer.
With a bucket-mouth, water leaking, he sat like a narcissistic panther.
Above her skin she wore only the pearl.
His frog-tongue stretched out with a curl.
A certain chandelier fell, poked the tongue, and winked the enchanter.

© Sarala Ram Kamal.



I read the most celebrated book of Gibran,
‘The Prophet,’ and I burst like beer from a can.
I think of the malicious manipulation
Orchestrated by sophisticated calculation.
And say, ‘What is your brand, O man?’

© Pramila Khadun



There was an Inca named Write,
Who wrote beautiful poems at night.
The current once failed,
The poetess railed.
And God said, “For Write’s sake, let there be light!”

© Vijay Nair



An obese lad was hiking the wrecked brick wall,
To hop on the patch to fetch his playing ball.
He thumped on the muck.
His tummy got stuck.
I boast of the solitary phrase ‘LOL’ to all.

© Rajdeep Chowdhury



There lived a man upon the hill.
Who died and left a simple will,
“Let at my funeral
There be a carnival,
And my son will pay up the bill.”

© Shabir Ahmad Mir



The desire was wetting his eyes.
The darkness was on the rise.
I became a summer cloud,
Clearing his mind full of doubt
And prose slept in those silent cries.

© Bobby Bains



Planned an overnight stay.
She joined me after the play.
Packed house.
Disturbed spouse.
Shifted the location, to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

© Chiranjeevi Gandikota



Something strange occurred that day.
Unsure of whether it would stay,
I grabbed a paper lying near me.
Before I could capture, thoughts did flee.
I was abandoned midway.

© Sana Tamreen Mohammed



Locked in an A.C flat, looked he on a tattered man
Puffing smoke from his balcony, he tried to scan,
How wretched life is for the poor!
Poetically, booked every wrong doer.
And light hearted, to his cushioned bed he ran !


© Swati Chandra Shivki



Old man Marlow once brought a car,
But sadly he could not drive it too far.
For when he sat on the driving seat,
He realized he was only three feet.
Yet he still sat there to enjoy his jam and caviar.

© Meetu Nadir



Time for literature is not so greatest
When I share a poet’s corner with the best.
I know nothing about Limerick,
Yet to master the ‘copy ’n paste’ trick.
My poetry is poor without a Leg and a Breast.

© Ambika Mahapatra



There was an old man living in New Delhi,
Who had a really round, big belly.
He stole some pigs
And hid them in his wig.
And sat down to watch the news on telly.

© Sunita Jugran



Flirting today with anyone.
Love tomorrow with someone.
Many a villain , many a crook
In this world of Facebook .
How can you be, oh so fast, oh so shallow, this is so doggone!

© Minal Nadgir Lokapur



There once was a dog from Chandigarh.
His lady love was from Dibrugarh.
He ate up all her bones.
Now night long she mourns.
Falling in love with that dog from Chandigarh!

©Lily Swarn



Stuck in my head
Are verses that don’t bread.
Coloured eggs that hatch
Into portraits, I sketch.
Yet I sharpen the lead.

© Rahul Mall



Life is an adventurous imagination.
Faith on God is the determination.
Smile and give happiness,
Let people think it’s madness,
You are gonna be the reason for this inception.

© Sha Azam Siddiqui



There were poets, who cared for accolades and prizes,
Forgetting that with every decade, another generation rises;
To claim their fame, wipe out their name,
Forgetting they too had been players in this game,
Oh! The poor poets who care for accolades and prizes….

© Joie Bose




It’s easy to hurt from far but near,
Rather than walking in the shoes that belong to her,
Who is real, who is the loser?
Behaviour shows better!
But blind people can’t figure out the truth from rumour.

© Dew Drop



Life is a patchwork of lights and shadow.
Light cannot filter in when we leave our souls fallow.
hadow too has its indomitable place,
Without shadow light loses its grace
Open your souls and let it both follow.

© Paromita Mukherjee



He saw her locking lips,
His heart crumpled like chips.
Why she hurried to the other first?
Did he think love is out of lust?
Until she binds, his heart drips.

© Raj Babu Gandham



A batty cat
Or a catty bat?
What does it matter,
When you’re mad as a hatter.
It’s all in your head.

© Vineetha Mekkoth



Days pass by, then a month, then a year.
Come what may, don’t shed a tear.
Autumn leaves may dwindle to the ground
Don’t regret, wait for the next round.
Bear this in mind and just you cheer.

© Kuchobhotla Sarada



This gem in a pod, glossy ruby red,
Dazzles in the curves of neighbouring hills thoroughbred.
Loving hands pick them to brew its wine.
My elixir I’m addicted to is a decoction called caffeine,
When he makes it for me, wow, I’ll never be dead!

© Geethanjali Dilip



There was a babe in a mother’s arms.
On being fed and cuddled, she felt warm.
A lizard ran past,
Mother got up fast.
She forgot the babe in her arms.

© Sunila Khemchandani



Oh, how you implore the habit to explore,
Telling it’s the only escape in the Kingdom of bore.
Yet, as I mention sex,
You dismiss, bring up your ex.
Curiouser and Curiouser, I’ll be patient no-more.

© Pallavi Tripathi



There was a curious man full of curiosity.
He ran away to Bombay, to see the big city.
He saw filth all around,
People shitting on the ground
And the stench made him jump into the sea.

© Satbir Chadha



The man sat in a dark shadow,
In the Castle left hollow.
Air chanted through the curtain,
‘Look how people Sustain.’
In retrospect He buried his fate.

© Sanober Fatima



I have a friend with initials R R K.,
Who moves her nose in a strange way.
Thus she incites in me fear,
When its tip reaches her ear,
And I wish there it should forever stay…!

© Waseem A Malla



She looked at the mirror,
To admire her beautiful figure.
Then came a big mosquito
Hoarding the limelight, the pudgy Bonito
She spanked hard breaking the mirror!

©Elvira Lobo



I love my hair and their twirls,
And the shady shade and the curls.
Once mine were long enough,
Before they became too tough.
Then I cut them to keep them safe like pearls.

© Nalini Srivastava



I plucked the golden sun from the indigo sky,
The microwave fried it oily and set it to dry.
I sprinkled some pepper;
Look what I now discover
A map of Sicily hidden in a speckled butterfly!

© Rituparna Majumder



Crystal or Smokescreen?
World certainly turns keen!
To meet the Pauper and the Queen,
To learn who is munificent and who is mean,
To realise the Unsaid, the Unseen!

© Richi Simon



There was a jungle in Benghazi,
Made the city look strange in Tripoli.
When the Revolution came,
Both looked the same.
City became jungle and jungle, city.

© Koshy A.V.



There once was a man who lied a lot.
He even made maidens at court cry a lot.
He once told a fib so big,
The duke threw down his wig
He got knighted as Sir Liealot.

© Precious Chilongozi



I met a handsome man
Who is my besotted fan.
Wants to marry me,
Ready to carry me.
I approved to him that he can.

© Rubeena Hameed



There was a girl named Clove,
Who hopelessly believed in love.
One day she met a sweet boy
Playing with a funny toy.
Who pushed her away with a shove.

©Princess Lubna



In an avian land called Cawbook,
There were plenty of poetic rooks.
When they sat down to write
Some crooks started a fight,
Now Cawbook is full of black-eyed looks.

© Reena Prasad



There was once a shy, shimmering boulder.
In the mines of Andhra, lonely as the Loch Ness Monster.
Kohinoor was its name,
Gifted to the Queen of Britain.
It is now bolder as a devout Royal beholder.

© Malkeet Kaur



In life our actions may not hoarded be,
Kept out to share only selectively,
Time is fleeting here, for me, for you,
Days, years, turn to decades quickly through,
Though each choice may take us an eternity

© Michele Baron



A soul gets moulded brick by brick
Flame aflame, remains the wick
Life, a pseudo sea, karma serves the oar
You reap your deeds, sweet and sour
Beware Manu! Maya does play the trick.

© Neha Kumari



These four wheelers bring forth an idiot.
Shutting the door, when the key I forget.
Neighbours are unkind,
Wify dear gives her mind.
“Thank God! Not inside, my dear Eliot”

©Tribhawan Kaul



Why don’t you like and comment on posts of mine,
Laments grudgingly a few of my friendly asinines.
Should I tell them to buzz off,
Or I will just cut them off,
Or play safe with, “Dear, last week I was really short of time!”

© Mou Majumdar Sarkar



We call our Doves de la mancha
And shame every sober Sancho Panza.
Our world has come to this,
It can’t tell honey from piss,
Yet we gloat over wisdom’s bonanza…!

©Nivedita Dey



The beautiful lies on my canvas, do behold!
Each lie is a truth echoing eight-fold,
Amidst the vast vacuums of madness –
The clouds of deceit enveloping earth’s fondness,
Reaching the reaches, where truth cannot hold.

© Niladri Ranjit Chakraborty



Her beauty lies on the lines I write.
She, who takes me on a magical ride-
Open hair and dark brown eyes,
Like darkness with flying fireflies.
Beautiful dream!! And I am back at site!

©Rishabh Tulsayan



Little Miss Muffet dreamt to own the spiders’ city.
She ruled, scolded, shouted; oh, what a pity!
And then the oldest spider thought it was time
To pour on her, a greenish orange slime!
All the spiders danced and sang a happy ditty…

©Anindita Bose



There was a girl, the daughter of a sergeant.
Before marriage she got pregnant.
The sergeant was angry and brought his gun,
To kill the guy who was having fun.
To his surprise, the guy was his tenant!

© Megha Sumant Sharma



There was a naughty boy named Nick
He realised that he was badly sick
Doctor arrived
Pills prescribed
Nick paid the doctor with a kick.

© Fatima Afshan



There was a young lady from Brisbane,
Who thought that her bust needed building,
So she went to a doctor
About her parts upper,
Now she’s married to him with ten children.

© John Anthony Fingleton



There was a lean man, wafer-liked.
The hair on his head was all spiked.
He danced on fours to get spaced.
Drank water all day, bitterly laced.
On a rainbow day, a bear licked him and biked.

© Himali Narang



He was sure, it was Tiffin,
That to the boy, he had given,
The boy was amused,
Today, he wasn’t abused,
For it was a pickle jar, not that Tiffin.

©Ravinder Kaur



A dreaming Toad in an ink pot
Complained about summer being hot
Tried a vodka shot
Tasty toad or not
Under the fire he was cooked hot.

© Sufia Khatoon



A wise man wanted to reach the sun.
World was chasing the nerd,
He was seriously, on the run.
His dying heart wanted to have fun,
He desired to kill the herd.

©Shalini Samuel



There was a young fellow from Calcutta
Who found out the heart of the matter
The two things in life
Were his mobike and his wife
When he didn’t ride the first he rode the latter

©Soumya Mukherjee



Inca Write cajoles her words.
Not to huddle like uninspired herds
With a wave of her magic wand
And the whiff of her wispy command
They sing and flutter like birds!

© Zeenath Ibrahim



There was once a man from Murch.
Who was the postmaster in town
He played a game with the patrons
Of who am I?
For his twin would never leave him in a lurch.

©Lucette C. Bailliet





Women voters, powered their vote:
A decree for a dry state
When loitering was logged-off
Around the on shop bar
For a pint of rum

All loiters were stacked,
Decked by parabolic lines
Playing rummy.

© Tapeshwar Prasad



Ron of Ponda,
Rode his Honda,
To land Gondwana.
Where? Near Republic Banana
To serenade
Miss Lemonade
And bowl over
Her father, Baron Sugar
What did he get as dowry?
A beachful of cowries
And her pet panda!

© Pratima Apte



He did his best
He won the match
He met her dad
He wished to wed
The girl he met.

© Kalpana Shah



When you write about a her, or
A she, and paint a picture of pieces
So meticulously broken, that art
Fails to compare, you’re not writing
Poetry, you’re writing a manual on
How to pander your creative wares.

© Harnidh Kaur



She pervades my world making me scared.
Really wide-spread even on bed.
A little movement of her body,
I am on the floor in a thud.
With bleeding tooth and face

© Anita Sahoo



In midsummer’s hot
Lion set for a hair cut
Seated on the Barber’s chair,
Ordered a cut hottest ever
And lost to snore
Under the cooler.

When job was over,
Balded the lion
Thundered at barber,
“You …Rascal….!!!”

Hid behind mirror,
Said the barber,
“Me …!? …..nope ..,.sir
It’s the scalpel’s pleasure ..!”

© Bidyutprabha Gantayat



Count the ride of devil’s.
What makes you count the riddle ?
Trying, trying, trying, I am trying !
Dumb mind of yours is frying on the dumbness of this rhyme?

©Binod Bastola Joshi



I find it queer for the Denizens to see
Cloned drones in motorcades flee
Some stay put
Some in traffic pee
Cars, temper, motions
In traffic beat
Even or odd?
Piqued in summer heat!

© Jai Prakash Kallikkal



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