Groundhog Limerick Contest

Faithful readers will remember that five (five!) years ago, I ran a groundhog Haiku contest here on my blog. It was well received, with a big campaign effort by some of the contestants. It came right down to the wire, and I had a  lot of fun with it.

For this year’s Groundhog Day party, I decided to bring back the poetry, but to keep things lively, I switched the poetry format. That’s right, folks: limericks!

I made the stipulation that they had to be clean. No dirty groundhog limericks on my watch, people. But other than that, the sky was the limit. I wasn’t sure how many of my party goers would enter, but I was really happy to get 10 entries in the space of about 15 minutes. Limerick’s aren’t the easiest things to write off the cuff. Harder than haikus, at least.

So once again, let’s have a contest. I’m going to follow the pattern I set five years ago. This post will collect all entries for the contest. You can enter as many times as you like. I’m going to leave this open for a week. A week from now, I’ll select the top 5 entries and create a new post just for them. At that point, you all get to vote for which one you like the most.

But a contest wouldn’t be a contest without a prize. I gave away naming rights in my latest novel last time (TARNHELM, for those of you playing along at home.) So I’ll do the same thing this time. The winner can name a character in my current work in progress, which is top secret for now, but which will hopefully not be top secret in the very near future. Simple and straightforward. Win the contest. Have your name (or a name of your choosing) in my book. (I reserve the right to veto any names, assuming they’re not your legal name . . .)

For a refresher for those of you aspiring poets, here’s a quick rundown of what a limerick is. And without further ado, I present to you the entries so far:

Here we are at the house of Bryce

To celebrate groundhog on ice

Hit by the big truck

Head off like a puck

This poem is not very nice.

When pulling me out of a log

Let’s hope there’s not much of a fog

Shadow, I may see

Lest you pay a fee

I’m February’s fat star hog

Groundhog groundhog groundhog groundHOG

Groundhog groundhog groundhog groundBOG

Shadow shadow GROUND

Shadow shadow ROUND

Groundhog groundhog groundhog groundlOG.

Fateful day this groundhog delay

Groundhogs keep winter at bay

Blinded by the light

Of shadows in sight

For his shadow was seen at midday.

There’s an animal hogging the news

And casting shadows on views

It’s the groundhog, of course

Our annual source

Of featherbrained seasonal clues

Once an old groundhog from PA

Snuck into the garden to pray

While there on a stump

He just thought of Trump

And gave up and moved to Bombay.

There once was a groundhog with a beard

Who said “it is just as I feared!

Two owls and a hen

4 larks and a wren

Have all built their nest in my beard!”

In days of old, when Grandpa Jack was not old,

And hunting laws were not invented,

The groundhog would die,

And on his stove they would fry,

And Jack’s stomach would be most contented.

There once was a groundhog from Spain

Who stepped in a trap and had pain

His shadow he saw

Six more weeks for pa,

Unless it was starting to rain.

There once was a groundhog named Phil

Who lived in a hole in a hill.

He ate and he ate

Until he felt great,

But Denisa wanted to kill.