Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Welcome to the very first Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. I am your host, Chelsea Owens.

Your first contest has the following rules:

  1. The topic is elective surgery.
  2. It’s short. Keep your poem below 200 words but above 4. That means anywhere from 5-199 words.
  3. To rhyme, or not this day? Up to you.
  4. And remember: the poem needs to be awful. I want to cringe. I want to scrub my eyes and go lick something to clear my artistic palate. -though, G-Rated.

Think you can do it? You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (November 16, 2018) to submit. Post your poem or the specific link to it in the comments.


8 thoughts on “Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

  1. Bruce Goodman November 10, 2018 / 9:47 am

    Elective surgery

    I hop to God no one has to go through what I went through:
    having a leg cut off.
    And having both arms surgically removed might look ‘armless
    but I’m not applauding.
    I don’t see why it was necessary to remove both eyes
    when one was already blind.
    All I asked the plastic surgeon for my elective surgery was to
    “Make me like a painting.”
    I never meant Picasso.

    Liked by 6 people

  2. Bladud Fleas November 10, 2018 / 10:40 am

    Elective Surgery

    “Two men to push a gurney?”
    Enquired the recumbent Ernie
    Only one to push him back,
    And another with his bits in a sack.

    Liked by 4 people

  3. Bladud Fleas November 10, 2018 / 11:49 am

    Elective Sugary

    I know you can’t cure dyslexia with a knife.
    So why, you ask, am I lying here?
    About to go under and risk life,
    T’was for something I hold much more dear:
    It’s chocolate! and candy! and cake!
    Well, anyone can make a mistake!

    Liked by 3 people

  4. D. Avery @shiftnshake November 10, 2018 / 12:03 pm

    I decided to have my nose removed to spite my face
    Now had to decide on just the right place
    To have this delicate procedure done
    that my nose might smell but never run
    This must be the place, everyone dressed in white
    but then those cleavers gave me a fright
    These weren’t doctors, they were butchers of meat
    And it was too late for me to retreat
    There went my nose, thrown into a pile
    And then my lips, with a bloody smile
    One by one I wholly became parts
    It is true to say that I had lost heart.

    Liked by 4 people

  5. Karen November 10, 2018 / 2:47 pm

    Boob Job…

    I always knew I’d go under the knife
    For a bigger chest, it was worth the strife
    My meagre A cups are not what I want
    But something much bigger that I can flaunt
    Should I stop at a D or maybe an F
    Or go even larger and really impress?

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Jon November 15, 2018 / 8:26 pm

    Nip, tuck
    Trust to luck
    mirror says yuck
    Nip, tuck
    try it again?
    third time’s the charm?
    what’s the harm?
    mirror’s alarmed

    Liked by 1 person

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