First, I wish to pay tribute to a longtime contributor to poetry contests of the past: Hobbo. May your family receive comfort and may your sons publish your works posthumously. You will be missed.
Seems like a case of bad luck to me
In agony, needs appendectomy
Flash of the blade
Incision is made
Surgeon thinks it’s a vasectomy.
Now, we’re off to a new start with the Terrible Poetry Contest! This month’s challenge was to write a poem in any form, about accidental love. So, after a month of deliberation, WHO wrote our winning poem?
Love of Mishap
Some love to complain
But all are attentive
to a train
Congratulations, Jon! You are the most terrible poet this month! Let me know what theme and form we’re to use next time.
Wow. Just wow. I read through all the entrants and hadn’t a clue which to pick. There was humor, there were awful subjects, there was such cleverness! -but what we always aim for in terrible poem-ing is a mockery of overused poetry elements. These include trying to sound mysterious, breaking lines in odd places, rhyming incessantly with novice vocabulary, utilizing poor spelling and grammar, and trying for free-verse or haiku whilst butchering the effort.
Jon’s poem is short, broken, and surprisingly complete. It spoke to me as terrible because it checks the boxes but is wholly disappointing. Well done, Jon.
Truly, though, you must read all the poems. This month’s collection is highly entertaining:
by John W. Howell
We never meant it,
But somehow it came to be . . .
My braces her gum.
I Only Wanted Her for Her Brain
It started mundane
The usual Earthly pain
The doctor wanted meat
Whole, from head to feet
Taking a body from a grave is boring
I can do it even while snoring
But then he said he wanted a brain
That could think really, really profane
Well, he said profound
But I misheard that sound
So I stalked a naughty lass
Who smoked a lotta grass
Often spoke really crass
And had a very nice
But then I fell
Right in front of Ms. Jezebel
And to my surprise
She looked at me with dewy eyes
OK, they were bloodshot from the pot
But they watered a lot
As she laughed her head off
Until she started to cough
With no time to think
I asked her out for a drink
And I bet you can guess
My surprise when she actually said
“That’s a joke, right?”
Drat, I was out of luck
So I pushed her in front of a speeding truck
But with that shove
She fell in love!
As she passed, she said she’d always love me
So I had to do something, you see?
Trying my hardest I did all I could
If not what I morally should
So although her body is gone
She will always live on
Always at my side
Try as I might, I can’t hide
She constantly says she loves me, quite the feature
This endearment coming from the lips of Dr. F’s 8 foot tall, male creature
by Frank Hubeny
One moonless, dreary, dismal night
I accidentally fell in love.
A mermaid using starry light
bewitched me from above.
I loved her true and she loved me
enough to eat me whole.
Now I am dead and she’s well fed.
I guess this tale’s been told.
by Brian Keith Mino
Failure has become accepted,
and mediocrity praised, while greatness is
Despised, as the masses grope around,
Yo soy Diego y esta es Frida
I first wed the girl – nineteen twenty nine
her hair was dark, loosely curled
she was fairest in the world
she gave me a shove so I pulled her hair,
accidentally fell in love
fit together, hand in glove
married now, at least a couple of times
love we’ll sometimes disavow
me, Frida, her unibrow
But, I’m not a homosexual
How do love her ?
BY NEAR, bye far
counting ways to stars
I count curves
and long eye lasses
I count to ten
with pen I wrote this love knote, I’m am no timid mouse
folded as such
and; dropped it
Mail slot, I lover here oh so muchly
shit! Wrong house!
Bus stop dreaming
by Doug Jacquier
I did but see her
through the glass darkly
of the sliding doors of the train to nowhere
but I knew I had to make her mine, make her mine, make her mine.
I raced along the platform,
past the compulsory dwarf and mardi gras dancers,
knocking over old ladies
and trampling on children
until I could leap onto the train
as it left the Stations of the Cross.
On the train
we ran through fields of wildflowers
as if in slow motion
until she leapt into my arms
heels in the air
and we kissed with the heat of the night
until the conductor asked me for my ticket
and I woke up at the bus stop.
Dick And Jane In A Spot
See Dick trundling ’round Walmart,
See Jane selecting a shopping cart,
See dick searching for a parking slot?
Does Dick see Jane in his blind spot?
See Jane hear her phone go ‘bing?’
Well, now Jane won’t see anything,
See Dick’s head turn side to side,
See Dick’s patience being tried?
See Jane gaze raptly at her screen?
Hear Dick mutter something obscene!
See Dick’s head all but swivel ’round?
Not an accursed park to be found.
See Jane cross behind Dick?
See Dick’s cheek start to tic?
See Dick see a most welcome sight?
Ahead, a Dodgy Neon’s reversing light!
See the smile on Dick’s face!
Dick has found his happy space!
See Dick’s foot hit the Jeep’s brake!
Let’s see, which path Jane will take?
See Jane talking and walking,
Concentrating on talking, not walking,
Dick has stopped, Jane’s not slowing…
Can we see where this is going?
The Neon vacates the parking bay,
Dick’s at the wheel, sawing away,
Dick can’t get his Compass aligned,
Dick reverses without glancing behind.
The VERY FIRST day at Drivers Ed
What do they drive into your head?
Chapter One in their good book-
‘Before going forth, first LOOK.’
But Dick does not remember Jack;
With Dick there’s no looking back,
Backing back out into the lane,
‘Dick in Jeep, meet Chatterbox Jane.’
Jane, holding wobbly wheeled trolley
Perfectly placed to compound Dick’s folly,
See Jane, lost in a world of her own
Rattling away, eyes on her iPhone.
What a moving sight they both fail to see!
See Jane’s trolley! See Dick’s truncated Cherokee!
Dicks not-so-tuff plastic bumper, mangled,
His Jeep and her trolley, sorrily entangled.
Dolt Dick agreed it’s all his fault,
Luckily Jane suffered just the jolt,
One broken fingernail, no broken bones,
And Dick’s insurance covers cracked phones.
So, after names and details were taken
Dick discerned Jane looked pale and shaken,
Said he’d treat her to a hot sweet latte;
Today they marry, a year to the day.
See Dick and Jane say their nuptial vows!
Though the venue raises actual eyebrows!
A Walmart wedding might sound perverse?
If you know their journey, quite the Reverse.
So, what’s up mutha?
by Deb Whittam
She was so hot, she set me alight,
Soldier stood to attention, ho, man what a delight.
She was sweet like cream, I ain’t leavin til I get a bite
Ho, you dudes can dream, she’s going home with me tonite.
Yo, I’m bad ass, I can make chocolate melt on a cold ass day
But your so fine mutha, you and me we could so, like, play
Me and my bling, you with your tight ass thing
We could go horizontal, ho, you know what I mean?
Your such a fine mutha, you got it going on
You and me, back at my place, now don’t get me wrong
This ain’t no one night fling, I could see you wearin’ my bling
You and me, doin’ it morning and night
Boys tongues hanging, you just so fly
C’mon on mutha, I’m gonna be your guy.
Ain’t no time to waste, this ain’t no accidental love,
C’mon on, let me have a taste.*
there she stood
unkempt and crude
her family lines
a sickly brood
her sweats all stained
with God knows what
brown and smudged
across her butt
but in the light
of twilight time
hot damn, my Lord
she looked so fine
through the years
and many a stain
she stole my heart
my love she’d Gain
She elbowed my nose
Trying to make sourdough.
It broke. My nose, that is.
‘It’s just a dent…’
She took the car
To test her new glasses.
‘The tree came out of nowhere.
It’s a little bent.’
The nice man with the moustache
Sold her a shiny bond
And cleared us out.
‘Every flaming cent.’
We got it back on insurance.
She lent it to her brother
To start a platypus farm
With a former Love Island contestant
They don’t return her calls.
I love her for her baking, her resilience, her openness and her family loyalty.
They say I’m mental.
I say it’s an accimental love.
Thank you, terrible poets. Come back at the beginning of November to learn what the new prompt will be!
Jon: Here’s your slightly-inaccurate badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:
©2022 The poets, and their respective poems.