There once was a masseur so bold,
Whose fingers would wander and fold.
With sheets tucked in tight,
He’d claim “all is right,”
But his stories grew sordid when told.
A gent on the table declared,
“My testicles felt rather snared!
One hand went adrift,
As though playing a rift,
And frankly I felt quite impaired.”
The ladies spoke up with a frown,
Of breasts where his hands lingered down.
And with noises of trains,
He rehearsed his refrains,
Like a creep in a carnival gown.
The bosses took notes of the crime,
Complaints stacking higher each time.
The verdict was clear,
“Your license stops here,
For your conduct’s both lewd and a slime.”
So heed now this cautionary song,
A masseur who went gravely wrong:
When trust is betrayed,
Reputation decayed,
And the journey was short, though too long.
-
Author:
Randy Carter (
Offline) - Published: August 19th, 2025 10:25
- Comment from author about the poem: A massage therapist was falsely accused by the Iowa State Board of Massage. I took the completely fabricated nonsense and made a poem. enjoy!
- Category: Fantasy
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments3
Love limericks and this one fits the bill. A most fun read about a sordid type of fellow
Absolutely! To clarify though, the claims are false and the State Investigator is the sordid fellow lmao
Even better fuel for a follow up
You wrote it delightfully well, despite attempts few hiccups in beat and rhythm. It's too fun to read, delivered with poetic flair. Thank you so very much for sharing!
Hey Randy, welcome to MPS 🕊️🙏🏻
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