It’s time for our annual Fantasy Limerick contest!
Your task is to create an original limerick that has something to do with speculative fiction. It could be about a character, a series, an author, or whatever fits the theme. Here are the rules for creating a good limerick (quoting from this source). A limerick:
- is five lines long
- is based on the rhythm “da-da-DAH” (anapest meter)
- has two different rhymes
Lines 1, 2, and 5 have three of those da-da-DAH “feet,” and rhyme with each other.- Lines 3 and 4 have two, and rhyme with each other.
- You can break the meter rules if there’s a good reason. You may
- drop the first “da” in a line, changing that foot to da-DAH
- add an extra “da” or two at the end of a line IF it’s used for an extended rhyme, such as cannibal and Hannibal
- The best limericks are funny or witty or clever.
So, the meter goes like this:
da da DAH / da da DAH / da da BING
da da DAH / da da DAH / da da DING
da da DAH / da da BAM
da da DAH / da da WHAM
da da DAH / da da DAH / da da PING
As examples, here are some previous winners:
(Your name could be in this spot next year!)
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There are some brilliant limericks in our previous columns. We encourage you to go back and read them (use the links in the limericks above).
Now it’s your turn. We can’t wait to read what you create! If it’s not obvious what your limerick is a tribute to, please mention it in your comment. And if you want us to give you credit on Twitter, include your Twitter handle.
The author of the limerick we like best wins a book from our stacks or a FanLit T-shirt (sizes avail are M,L, XL) or a $7 Amazon gift card. If you live outside the US, we’ll send the gift card.
We’re updating our theme, so things may be a little messy or slow until we’re finished. Thank you for being patient with us!
Night doctor captured the victims soul
Being secretive has taken it’s toll
Using the spirit bottle with soul inside
Made his crime difficult to hide
Now he’s captured and strung on a pole.
There once was a journey to Mordor
That happened with eight hale supporters
If only the eagles
Had helped just like Smeagol
The trip would have been much much shorter
I haven’t really studied the meter above or below, so this is probably technically very inept, but I saw a reference today to a fun, well-known fantasy novel that is probably a great read, and that made me think of doing something like the following:
A zombie hellacious,
She was not voracious.
She fought for the power
That lived in the tower
And was all too predacious.
Necromancer wearing a spirit mask
Using rituals, potions, staying on task
Ancestral voodoo drums speak during ring shout
Rhythmic dancers chasing the evil out
Healing bereaved hearts, unanswered questions asked.
Oh, this microbe’s not good for the grass
for it threatens to kill us en masse
can one man find a cure
many lightyears from here?
Can he complete the Hail Mary Pass?
(you need a very specific accent to make the middle rhyme work, but I like it anyways)
Seeking vengeance against Chandrian
Kvothe’s war with Ambrose had no end
Though he played the lute well
Ambrose made his life hell
Til he cried out the name of the wind
A man of renown has returned.
both daemons and angels he’s spurned
for the love of his life-
Miguel, not a wife –
and their Nefilim spurs are well earned
The farm lad, they said, had been Chose
For armour, instead of his clothes
To fight to the Tower
And bring down the power,
To stand tall, among the Heroes
I’ve loved books ever since I was five;
Reading always made me feel alive.
But there’s no time to read
Between work and kids to feed,
So now I ljust lsten while I drive.
It’s more obvious every year
The future we’ve gotten is queer:
Bezos, Branson, and Musk’s
Rockets are just empty husks
Against the spacer’s dreams of yesteryear
A farmboy whose village got leveled
With a prophecy soon was bedeviled;
His group of supporters
Were drawn from all quarters,
And his Sword was attractively beveled.
I’ve been told in classrooms and bars
SF’s just elves and flying cars.
I feel bad for those folks,
Who can’t see past the tropes,
To the wonder and joy that is ours
There once was a very odd farmer
Who wore a strange clock and some armor
If not now, then when?
If not cow, then hen?
Control over time would soon harm her
A lowda who hailed from the Belt
had grown, in low-G, tall and svelte
She did not visit Mars,
preferring the stars,
And Earth’s gravity just made her melt.
There once was a lass who was seated
On a dragon who spat air much heated.
While the show’s come and gone,
Mr Martin’s not done,
And his last book is still not completed.
There once was a doctor at Mayo
Whose genius approached Galileo’s.
When men said “Commence
To cure my impotence!”
He showed paintings by Boris Vallejo.
There once was a young man called Rand.
He said, “See the lovely sand!”
It was rather new,
But not very blue,
He just couldn’t say no to the forearm band.
As king, he would come to be known
After pulling a sword from a stone
But he soon would discover
(for his wife loved another)
That power can keep you alone
¬¬¬Ergative Absolute,if you live in the USA, you win a book of your choice from our stacks. If you live outside the USA you are entitled to a $5 Amazon gift card.
Please contact me (Marion) with your choice and a US address. Happy reading!
A lot of these are very clever! Thanks for the smiles!