Jest for Pun logo Vacation Limericks By Kirk Miller
Virginia / Roller Coasters

Jul 3, 2003. I was in Virginia recently, primarily to ride roller coasters at my roller coaster club's convention. As long as we were in Virginia, my wife and I decided to spend a couple of days on the beach (before riding coasters), and about a week in the mountains (after riding coasters). A LOT of limericks came to me while on vacation. Here are just SOME of them (over 60 - still a lot).

There's a lesson the ocean does teach,
As we stroll on the shore out of reach
Of the waves that roll in.
I will say with a grin,
It is true that for us life's a beach.

The reflection of moonlight on ocean
Seems to shimmer on top with the motion
Of the water at sea.
It's appealing to me,
And can mesmerize just like a potion.

On the coast of Virginia, a bloke
Calls the people and city a joke.
Naval city he'll bash,
And the people he'll trash.
He likes neither the people Norfolk.

For vacation, decided to go a
Thousand miles to Virginia. We know a
Bunch of mountains are there
Which should have some fresh air
In the park that is called Shenandoah.

"Why Virginia?" my wife wants to know.
Her suspicion is starting to grow.
I thought I did mention
My coaster convention,
An event to which ACEers will go.

My coaster club's acronym's ACE,
And Virginia this year is the place
Where we'll meet and discuss
What's important to us:
Riding coasters, a thing we embrace!

All the ACEers from various towns
Say that coasters have ups and their downs.
They are on the right track,
So they keep coming back,
And their faces wear smiles, never frowns.

To the top of a hill we do climb,
And the feeling we get is sublime.
We go up and then down
On this ride of renown,
While the coaster delivers air time.

I ride Hypersonic, then boast
That the pleasure derived is the most
That I've had in a while,
Riding many a mile,
And I've ridden a lot, "coast" to "coast."

Down the lift hill we drop in a fog,
With expressions of awe, all agog.
When my ride is all done,
To the entrance I run.
Many rides all day long I will log.

On a coaster, my eyes get a gleam.
When I ride with my wife, it does seem
As we speed on pell-mell,
She will shriek, screech, and yell.
Riding coasters with her is a scream!

Poison oak on my skin cramps my style,
Yet my face wears a big, toothy smile.
Though my body has ails,
Satisfaction prevails.
I've been itching to ride for a while!

We ACEers are certainly blessed
To give coasters our rigorous test.
The park's warmth is grade A,
And we'd just like to say
"Thanks" to Paramount, really the best!

We arrived at the park, got a guide,
And my wife quickly read what's inside.
She had started to drool
When she reached the last rule.
"There's no rule against rockhounds," she sighed.

When she hikes, lots of rocks my wife gets
. About which ones are keepers, she frets.
To our home she does haul
Lots of rocks that are small.
Since they're tiny, I call them Rockettes.

As we wend our way back to the car,
I inquire of my wife, "While up thar,
What's the number of rocks
That you got on your walks?"
"Only two," then she added, "so far."

Her rock-finding skills she has honed;
There are zillions of rocks that she's owned
. And she said with a sigh,
"It's a natural high,
When I go on a hike and get stoned."

Her rock-hounding skills never cease,
But some she won't keep; she'll just lease.
Like the fishermen do,
There's a code she clings to.
It's a program called "Catch and Release."

There's a saying my wife always mocks
When she's out in the woods on her walks.
Do not, she supposes,
Stop and smell the roses.
You should stop and examine the rocks!

"When I'm dreaming at night in a bed,
I envision neat rocks," my wife said.
Then she gave me "The Look."
What I asked, she mistook:
"Does that mean you have rocks in your head?"

It is rainy and foggy all day,
From Front Royal clear down to Luray.
We've encountered some woes
Far as sightseeing goes,
Which has taken a major delay.

Thought the scenery'd leave us agog,
But the rain left terrain like a bog.
And each overlook here
Is occluded, not clear,
By ubiquitous, thick, smoky fog.

The fog is so thick it's like smoke.
It envelopes the park like a cloak.
The steam is arising,
Its thickness surprising.
That's the image this fog does evoke.

All the fog is a shroud blocking light.
It abounds and surrounds like the night.
We continue to wail
At the mist, ghostly pale.
All the scenery here's out of sight!

For days, rain and fog both persist.
We don't like it; we're getting quite pissed.
A bright, cheery sun,
We happen upun,
And we know that the mist won't be missed.

For a change, there's a blue, cloudless sky
In the morn, so our spirits run high.
We've had days of much rain;
Nearly drove us insane,
So it's time to be sunny and dry.

As we hike Little Stony Man Trail,
Sun peeks out from behind the clouds' veil.
The sweet song of a bird
Is repeatedly heard.
It's a bonus the hike does entail.

The birds flit around, tree to tree.
Their coloring's good, hard to see.
They chirp and they sing.
Their songs seem to bring
A light-hearted feeling to me.

Here I sit on the cliff and I gaze
At the valley and mountains through haze.
A cool, gentle breeze
Does waft through the trees,
And my feeling of awe does amaze.

The winds whip around, start to swirl,
As the day down below does unfurl.
Shards of shadows and sun
Across treetops do run.
Mother Nature's a beautiful girl.

As I look at the valley below,
A big updraft of wind starts to blow.
The gust spreads a chill;
The view gives a thrill.
My contentment with nature does grow.

At the peak of the mountain we stop
And enjoy a nice view from the top.
O'er the cliffs, oh so sheer,
Sev'ral men disappear.
They rappel down a very steep drop.

The view from the top is quite stunning.
I feel great, like I do after running.
And in fact, it is true,
The incredible view
Is a rush like a bout of good punning.

Shenandoah's great sights are our quarry,
And each day is a different story.
In woods we frolic
With views bucolic.
Mother Nature abounds in her glory.

Through the droughts and the storms, trees survive,
And the insects and animals thrive.
After noises are stirred,
A cacophony's heard.
Sit and listen. The woods come alive.

As I stroll through the forest with ease,
I am nestled among all the trees.
My spirit soars high
As birds in the sky.
"Just appreciate," whispers the breeze.

Is that water or wind that I hear
In the distance? The sound's not too clear.
It's a babbling brook,
Where some pictures get took.
And then back to the path we do veer.

As I walk by the stream on the shore,
Mother Nature unfolds even more.
This pastoral place,
Imbued with such grace,
Is a setting I simply adore.

As the water cascades o'er the falls,
Mother Nature, she beckons and calls.
As I eat and I drink
Through the day, you would think
I would have many more "nature calls."

As the water comes thundering down,
I see why it's a spot of renown.
Water's graceful, yet strong.
As it courses along,
It elicits a smile from a frown.

My emotions I cannot reveal,
'Cause mere words can't express how I feel.
Since photos can't convey
What more is there to say?
An experience rather surreal.

O'er the rocks 'neath the falls I do creep,
Climbing boulders both slick and quite steep.
I do not want to go
In the river below,
Ending up soaking wet in heap.

'Cross the river is where I can be
If I balance atop fallen tree.
People's eyes are agog
As I walk 'cross the log,
Prob'ly thinking: A hoser is he!

As I got part way out, I did think,
"One misstep, I'll end up in the drink."
I inched further out;
My conscience did shout,
"You know this idea does stink!"

I crept 'long the tree getting pensive.
My brain then became quite defensive.
Core emotion for me
As I walked o'er the tree?
I admit that I felt apprehensive.

Of much luck I did not have a lack,
So I made it across with my pack.
After shooting some pics,
I was still in a fix;
Had to walk on the log going back!

Because of the way I did fare,
I think that an angel was there
To help me across
Without any loss.
I'm thankful he saved my derriere.

This hike's a rewarding endeavor.
Like to stay in the forest forever.
But alas, I can't stay,
So I go on my way.
Ties to nature aren't easy to sever.

The weather was clear all day long.
There was nothing at all to find wrong.
The sky, a deep blue,
A magnificent hue.
In the woods you can't help but feel strong.

The pollution's a haze like a ghost
That enshrouds tops of mountains (well, most).
And Sequoia, last year,
Was polluted. I fear
We're polluting our land coast to coast.

All the views from the overlooks: hazy.
We've become too complacent and lazy.
We're destroying this land
And the views, oh so grand.
This pollution is driving me crazy!

I hope you don't think I'm obsessing
'Bout the beauty this park is possessing.
But the views are reduced
By emissions unloosed.
The result is acutely depressing.

On the trail I'm a lim'ricking fool.
A recorder's my trustiest tool.
As I hike and I rhyme,
I still learn all the time
In the forest, a wonderful school.

My lim'rick ability I choose
To ascribe to a spirited muse.
It's her nature, you see,
To inspire words in me,
And her purpose, of course, to a-muse!

At an OVERlook, stop for the view.
There's another word spelled that way, too.
OverLOOK: to not see.
Though the spellings agree,
Not the meanings, because there are two.

We relax and enjoy a light snack.
Bottled water returns to my pack.
But the cap isn't tight,
So my wife takes delight
At cold water that runs down my back.

Was accused of defacing a tree,
But the charge was a false one, you see.
A couple of cubs
Were digging for grubs,
And agreed to bear witness for me.

All the walls of the cabins are thin;
They reveal conversations within.
So unfortunately,
For my wife and for me,
A long sleep-deprived night it has been.

At 5:30 our quiet's defiled
By the cries of a one year old child.
Thoughts of mayhem and doom
For the folks in that room,
In my now-awake mind do run wild.

There once was a man from Virginia
Who said to his wife, "Ya won't win ya
Many friends when ya play
Cards so nasty that way.
The players will all be agin' ya."

In Staunton we made a wild guess.
Did we make a good choice? I'd say yes.
The locale: Mrs. Rowe's,
Where desserts earn big "Wows!"
'Cause her food is a Rowe's-ing success!

The mountains of Blue Ridge evoke
A lesson they say is no joke:
If a boat you should row,
Use a hardwood, you know,
'Stead of rowing a pine, Roanoke.

Hiking mountainous trails on vacation
I enjoy. It results in elation.
Gorgeous sights we did see.
We were happy, carefree,
In Virginia's acclaimed Appalachian.
Copyright Kirk Miller.

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