Here be groans

Here's a smattering of limericks I've submitted to the OEDILF over the past couple of weeks. They're not all groaners.

Acrid (a prediction for C. J. Strolin's future)

As the Limerick Enlightenment grew
Dostoevsky was versified too.
There was venting of spleen.
Strolin should have foreseen
Rhyme and Pun-ishment's acrid review.


Ankyloglossia

"I got angry last night and we fought
'Cause she told me my frenum's too short.
I tried and I tried,
But I'm always tongue-tied."
"You've got ankyloglossia, sport."


Australian shepherd

As a sheep dog, I'll give 'im 'is due;
This Orstraylian shepherd's me crew.
But inside, when 'e's smellin',
You'll still 'ear me yellin',
"Just get the flock outta 'ere, Blue!"


Access (a fit of intense feeling)

The quack said, "This back-session's aim—"
As his wild, whacking tactics became
An access climactic
Of rage chiropractic,
"—Is either to cure or to maim."


Apart

He was rapt in his ice-painting art;
She in starting an arctic ice-mart.
You can guess how it goes,
What with life's ebbs and floes,
How they gradually drifted apart.