Limericks for Annual Conference

Legendary science fiction writer Isaac Asimov, in his memoirs, wrote an entire chapter about the genesis of his limerick books (he wrote three).  He noted that, once he began writing limericks, he could not stop.  "It was like a fever," he said, and he would spend hours at a time, sometimes entire days, writing page after page of them.

I can identify.  I felt like that once I began writing these limericks for Annual Conference, though I can write a limerick, usually, in a couple of minutes.  (I'll have two installments:  this one, and another later in the week).

Anyway . . . I do hope you'll take offense at these!  I put my heart into them, and my wit (what little I have). 

Enjoy these during the conference plenary session . . . if you dare!

There once was a pastor from Clark
Who could not find a place she could park
But it rained and it blew
And she said, "Yes, I knew
That I should have arrived in the ark."

Ten pastors became rather giddy
When they conferenced uptown in the city
But as Methodists
Their conscience insists
They create yet another committee.

John Wesley conducted research
While eating red beans and fried perch
It was after this meal
History would reveal
That he journaled and belched out a church.

An old fart from Kalamazoo
Was ordained after years of review
But he died just before
His first sermon could score
And he gave 'em the old switcheroo.

Some pastors who met over lunch
Felt pinched by a financial crunch
So to lighten the mood
They fasted from food
And decided to spike the church punch.

Some pastors who shall go un-named
Believe that these poems are lame
But they never will laugh
At a joke or a gaff
So they'll go back the way that they came.