CRIME Poem: NOIR LIMERICKS, by Gary Zenker Walter Lawn

She was caught with a gun in her hand.
The guy had bled out in the sand.
“It’s not me,” she exclaimed.
It’s another she blamed.
“The Beach Butler has done it again.”

There once was a man from Nantucket
Whose pump failed – with an ice pick she’d stuck it.
She’d snuck up in disguise . . .
But the biggest surprise?
A clean limerick – now you can go suck it.

’Twas a dark stormy night in Sin City.
At the end of the bar, she looked pretty.
Her gat did him in
Ere he’d finished his gin.
His tab was paid up, more’s the pity.

Author: poetryfest

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