Gift wrapping I don’t understand.
Nothing turns out the way that I planned.
The paper looks bunched.
The ribbon’s all scrunched.
Perhaps I just need a third hand.

—Bette Killion, Greencastle, Indiana

Congratulations to Bette Killion! For her poem describing the illustration by Dick Sargent, Bette wins $100—and our gratitude for a job well done. If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, you can submit your limerick via the entry form here.

Of course, Bette’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked! Here are some of our favorite runners-up, in no particular order:

It’s becoming abundantly clear
That the deadline for Christmas is near.
Anxiety grows
As he’s still tying bows.
He’ll give smaller presents next year.

—Timothy Cannon, Osceola, Iowa

Thought shopping was the worst of my woes.
Now I’m fumbling with ribbons and bows!
I groan and I sigh
These wrappings to tie
I’m tangled from mustache to toes!

—Marlene B. Larson, Larimore, North Dakota

When told by the clerk at the store,
“Wrapping is five dollars more.”
This frugal old elf
Said, “I’ll do it myself!”
Now this chore has him sore to the core.

—Ben Griffin, Weleetka, Oklahoma

He tried to be quiet as a mouse
While wrapping the gift for his spouse.
But ribbons and bows
Got wrapped ’round his clothes,
And paper all over the house.

—H. Earl Martin, Laurens, South Carolina

The holiday season is bright
But not for this fellow tonight.
He’s sitting there trapped,
Trying to get this gift wrapped.
What an awkward and frustrating sight.

—Neal Levin, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan

This chore makes him feel trapped,
But with paper and bows he’ll adapt.
You have to adore him
Like many before him
Into his projects he tends to get wrapped.

—D. Brown, Buffalo, Wyoming

Joe Jones was doing his best.
To wrap up the gift was a test.
But that stubborn red ribbon
Was not very forgivin’,
So Joe ended up with a mess.

—Amory Minear, Dover, Delaware

Wrapping can be such a chore;
It’s something I’ve come to abhor.
I’m up to my nose
In ribbons and bows,
And forgot to buy tape at the store.

—Andrew Murphy, Frackville, Pennsylvania

The Christmas season seems great!
It’s the trials of wrapping some hate.
Our hero is trying
But inwardly crying,
“I’ll never get done at this rate!”

—Beverly J. Brouwers, Middlebury, Indiana

Limerick Laughs Contest Winner and Runners-Up for Nov/Dec 2012 The Saturday Evening Post

His doctor of feminine gender
May offer a manner quite tender.
But why, he did muse,
Would she purposely choose
A field that is fraught with rear-enders.

—James Carpenter, Miami, Florida

Congratulations to James Carpenter! For his poem describing The Saturday Evening Post cover illustration by Roberto Parada, James wins $100—and our gratitude for a job well done.

If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our upcoming issue, you can submit your limerick via the entry form here.

Of course, James’ limerick wasn’t the only one we liked! Here are some of our favorite runners-up, in no particular order:

I’m going to convince my mind
That her diploma is properly signed.
‘Til then, if you please,
I’m keeping the breeze
From blowing across my behind.

—Marlene Klopp, Iowa City, Iowa

When seeing a doc or a nurse
For a shot or perhaps something worse,
First tend to essentials
And check their credentials.
Or you might end up in a hearse.

—Cornelius R. Jonker, Grand Rapids, Michigan

Our man George had a bit of a frown,
As he stood in his barely closed gown,
He checked the diploma,
Of young Doctor Roma,
He surely did miss old Doc Brown.

—Randy Imwalle, Hilliard, Ohio

A fine time for me to take stock
As to whether I picked the right doc
Now that she’s about
To check inside and out.
I hope I’m not in for a shock.

—Billy N. Davis, Milton, Florida

There once was a man called Bill
Had a doctor in old Melville.
But she was a fake
And sly as a snake,
She’d bought her “degree” from Goodwill.

—Tesa Aguilar, Tampa, Florida

There once was a company exec,
Who went for his annual check.
The procedure he got
In a sensitive spot
Was unlike a pain in the neck.

—Edward F. Haas, Rolla, Missouri

He thinks his exam should entail
A doctor whose gender is male.
The degree that he’s eyed
Shows Doc’s certified
To handle the rest of his … tale.

—Merlene R. Hill, Downey, California

He thinks that the doctor’s too young,
And can’t wait ‘til this torture’s all done.
Her knowledge is great,
But this medical date
Makes him just want to turn quick and run.

—Ruth Porter, Albany, Oregon

His pants weren’t just down; they were off
When he heard, “Please bend over and cough.”
He inquired, “For a shot?”
She replied, “No it’s not.”
He felt trapped like a bug in a trough.

—Ben Lightfoot, Hanston, Kansas

Limerick Laughs Contest Winner and Runners-Up for Sep/Oct 2012 The Saturday Evening Post

The morning commute is a maze,
Confusing in so many ways.
When parking is tight,
Then nothing goes right.
It’s gonna be one of those days.

—Timothy Cannon, Osceola, Iowa

Congratulations to Timothy Cannon! For his poem describing the illustration by Richard Sargent, Timothy wins $100—and our gratitude for a job well done.

If you’d like to enter the Limerick Laughs Contest for our Nov/Dec 2012 issue, you can submit your limerick via the entry form here.

Of course, Timothy’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked! Here are some of our favorite runners-up, in no particular order:

The width of the car doesn’t change,
Nor the girth of this guy’s middle range,
But the neighboring parker
Ignores the lot’s marker,
And causes contortions so strange.

—Carol S. LeClerq, Rhinelander, Wisconsin

After searching a while I’d guess,
Circling and suffering distress,
When finding a spot
That’s right on the dot,
An exit takes limbo finesse.

—Sue Hieber, Wichita, Kansas

How did this happen to me?
I can’t get out, don’t you see?
I’ve sucked in my gut,
Still caught is my butt,
Just one more huff and I’m free.

—Jo Nixon, Fort Scott, Kansas

While commuters prepare for their trips,
This latecomer must first come to grips
With the problem he got
From too narrow a slot
That, combined with his un-narrow hips.

—Ben Lightfoot, Hanston, Kansas

Running late to the station, car roared,
Crammed between an old Chevy and Ford,
As I struggle and strain,
To at last catch my train,
The conductor now shouts, “All aboard!”

—Constance Jones, Brockton, Massachusetts

A parking spot close by, he spied.
But couldn’t get out—though he tried.
And because he was portly,
With his train leaving shortly,
He was sadly squeezed out of his ride.

—Cornelius Jonker, Grand Rapids, Michigan

He knew that he couldn’t be late.
The train was still parked at the gate.
So he picked a close spot,
But it wasn’t so hot
Getting squeezed and stuck with his fate.

—Nancy Rutar, Grand Island, Nebraska

It wasn’t that he was too tall.
The space was simply too small.
So try as he might,
It was going to be tight
And he never may get there at all.

—Betty Wood, Minot, North Dakota

The man in the car is in pain,
And wishes he booked on a plane;
For the lot was quite full,
So his groin he did pull,
Then completely missed out on his train.

—Ed Hoffman, Mesa, Arizona

Limerick Laughs Contest Winner and Runners-Up for Jul/Aug 2012 The Saturday Evening Post

Classic Art: Dog Wanted The Saturday Evening Post

The turkey on top of the crate
Cared not that delivery was late.
Though his daring escape
Caused the townsfolk to gape,
He refused to end up on a plate!

Of course, Gayla’s limerick wasn’t the only one that tickled our fancy! Here are a few of our favorite runners-up, in no particular order:

Thanksgiving Day is just ahead.
It’s a time that all turkeys dread.
But this Tom found a way
To escape from the fray
By using—not losing—his head!

—Claire Levitt, Lawrence Twp., NJ

He broke free, but his friends raised a clatter.
The boss came to see what was the matter.
In the midst of the city
He could not raise much pity.
He still graced someone’s Thanksgiving platter.

—Bette Killion, Greencastle, IN

This old Tom won’t take the bait.
He has an inkling of his fate.
Thanksgiving is near
It brings out his fear.
He’s afraid he’ll end up on the plate!

—Jean Muyskens, Au Gres, MI

When they said they would have her for dinner
The hen turkey felt like a winner.
But learning the truth,
She flew from the coop,
And did her best to look thinner.

—Ms. D. L. Brown, Buffalo, WY

Tom turkey looked at the bait,
Aware of his predestined fate.
He was all set to fly;
He did not want to die
Like his fellow fowls in the crate.

—James Faucette, Durham, NC

While everyone gaped at the sight,
The turkey prepared for a fight.
The scared driver drew near;
He had only one fear—
What if that birdie should bite?

—Dorothy Iseral, Burnside, KY

A stubborn old turkey named Max
Had a dreadful fear of the axe.
So he broke loose and fled,
Became road kill instead
After several more years to relax.

—Gerald R. Seifert, North Manchester, IN

It looked more than a little absurd;
As folks stopped to watch man-versus-bird.
The scene was so graphic,
It tied up the traffic,
While a truckload of gobbling was heard.

—B. A. Lightfoot, Hanston, KS

My feathers are ruffled—oh, gee!
’Twas a scuffle, but now I am free.
I’m on top of the crate
That you said was my fate.
I dare you, “Just try to catch me.”

—Susie Swaim, Fairbanks, AK

Limerick Laughs Contest Winner and Runners-Up for Nov/Dec 2011 The Saturday Evening Post

The boy is quite good at concealing
The way that he’s privately feeling.
But when the door’s closed
And the lad’s unopposed,
His actions are truly revealing.

Of course, Neal’s limerick wasn’t the only one we liked! Here are a few of our favorite runners-up, in no particular order:

My principal stood very tall
As I passed with a wave in the hall.
When he left for the day
I had nothing to say
So I gave him my tongue, and that’s all.

—Paul E. Rikert, White Plains, NY

My principal’s seen me before.
The library’s on the same floor.
Though he’s really quite tall—
Doesn’t scare me at all—
As long as he’s behind that closed door!

—Nancy Kirbo, Rockwall, TX

This principal thinks he’s just great,
And his student’s would rank him first rate.
Why has he not learned
When his big back is turned
Some pretend to befriend whom they “hate.”

—Karen Snead, Dale City, VA

The man couldn’t possibly know
Just how fake was the friendly hello.
But surveillance soon caught
What the boy really thought
When he stuck out his tongue down below.

—Joyce Petrichek, Finleyville, PA

School rules can be so exacting.
Yet, on cue, the boy’s manner’s not lacking.
A fine gesture he’s made,
But it’s all a charade.
This lad has a future in acting!

—Karla Cooper, Midland, MI

There once was a fellow quite young,
Came to class when the school bell hand rung.
He seemed so polite
In the principal’s sight,
But when not, he would stick out his tongue!

—Elsie H. Wietzke, Camano Island, WA

Johnnie waves to old Principal Jones,
Smiling face hiding all of his groans.
But when no one is there
He soon takes up a dare
And starts mentally throwing his stones.

—Ruth Porter, Albany, OR

He really did look like a saint,
Not at all like he had a complaint.
The boy vented his spleen
Where he couldn’t be seen
Because stupid he certainly ain’t.

—Ralph D. Block, Warrington, PA

Thanks, Mr. Principal, for the advice.
You were really very nice.
Now, after a short detention
And the possibility of suspension,
I hope your remaining hair is full of lice.

—Edward Gottlieb, Detroit, MI

Limerick Laughs Contest Winner and Runners-Up for Sep/Oct 2011 The Saturday Evening Post

October 29, 1955, The Saturday Evening Post

Halloween Visitor The Saturday Evening Post