Welcome to the second Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. I am your hostess, Chelsea Owens.
Please, please read my wonderful blog post, How To Write Terrible Poetry, then note the following rules:
- The topic is sour grapes.
- It’s shorter than the last contest. Keep your poem below 150 words but above 5. That means anywhere from 6-149 words.
- To rhyme, or not this thyme? Again, up to you.
- And remember: the poem needs to be terrible. I want your high school poetry club teacher to pat you on the back for how many ways you failed to write the word ‘love’ or ‘agony.’ (Please do not literally use ‘love’ and ‘agony’ 50 times, assuming it’s a requirement.)
- Keep it PG-Rated.
Think you can do it? You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (November 23, 2018) to submit. Write it early ’cause I don’t want to see anyone coming here instead of to their family’s house for Thanksgiving.
Post your poem or the specific link to it in the comments.
Chel Owens 
No innuendo? Just ‘hardcore’ PG? The word grapes
does rhyme with drapes, you know!
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Did I SAY it has to rhyme? You poets are going to make me say the prompt is Purple and Orange next week!! 🙂
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Sour Grapes
A bunch of your finest my good woman
if you don’t mind
O, your last lot left me little lips a bit puckered
Nope, no probs! assuredly
Honestly,
I didn’t want them anyhow.
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Okay here’s one:
Those grapes are sour
I cannot reach them
O Alas! O Alas! O Sigh!
Death O Death grows nigh!
And my need grows by
the daily hour
I said, ‘So, the curtain
doesn’t match them drapes,’
And for that this,
This punishment! This poverty!
O Star! O heavens! O clouds!
My freedom! My liberty!
Gone!
Taken and now as I’m tied to these
Bedposts
I writhe! I writhe! I writhe!
Them who said ‘Ginger’s have no soul,’ were talking no myth!
O Alas! O Alas! O beautiful star!
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Sour Grapes
O the grape has a pip you know
known as a seed sometimes
and the sourest grape
has the sourest indeed
one that can even make a grown man’s lips bleed
into a conveniently placed hankerchief
if he has one
not all men carry them these days
the apes
Neanderthals
with their grapey palate
like being stuck on the mouth with a great huge wooden mallet
those grapes.
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It Follows
Sour grapes
Bitter fruit
Ingratitude
Vomited heavenward
Raining down
Staining, rude
Creasing frown
Crass, crude
Ugly festering
Attitude
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THE SOUR GRAPES OF WRATH
There are green ones
And red ones
But sometimes they are so dark that they are pretty much
Black
Oh, so black.
And dark.
Like my heart.
Since you’ve been gone.
You peeled grapes for me.
Which was jolly nice
Because
I really didn’t like the skins
Which
Used to get stuck in my teeth
In the gaps
And underneath
My tongue.
Somehow. Don’t ask me how.
I’m not a dentist.
And now the skins
Are giving me grief again.
Such grief.
Beyond belief.
And they’re not very sweet.
I would have said bitter
And thrown them in the litter
bin
But actually they’re probably really
Just sour.
Like my mood.
Unpleasant food.
And it’s because of you.
That I’m sour.
Like these grapes.
And I hate
You.
So there.
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When I’m lying in my hospital bed
don’t bring me grapes!
O bring me pineapples, melons and avocados instead
and apples red (and strawberries because they’re also red)
And lemons and bananas from the capes
(O and I just remembered raspberries are red too)
bring those
But not more grapes
Can you pull those drapes for me?
That’s better, now I can see
O no, are those for me?
Take
them
away
Come back
another day with some other fruit
or a carrot yeah I really don’t mind vegetables
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I lost the race
but that’s okay because the trophy had a stupid face
and the meager prize purse
was even worse…
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https://rhscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/11/18/sour-grapes/
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Sour Grapes
I refuse to obey rules –
especially for bad poetry.
Some might think it’s really cool
to have a rule
but personally I think it’s a load of bull
Some might think this excellent (some might say brilliant)
poem is revenge
for not winning last week’s poetry-that-sux competition.
But I refuse to obey rules
even when I’m driving a car
Ha ha ha
(I would’ve put “sux” at the end of the line but couldn’t think of anything that rhymed with it).
This could be construed as being sour grapes
but the expression “sour grapes” is a cliché.
But hey!
Hang loose.
Bruce
can screw up his face just as well with lemon juice.
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But… but, you were the reason behind this week’s prompt! 🙂
And, you’re still too pretty of a poet. 😉
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Sour Grapes
Sour Grapes
Oh God
This was a mistake.
Gag my mouth with duct tape
But now it’s too late
I’ve entered the contest
My poem is a right mess.
Sour Grapes
Sour Grapes
Grapes which are not sweet
Are usually sour.
Fin
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Yay for entering!!
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“Why am I not married?”
Some complain, and in an attempt to drain the pain, they exclaim,
“It’s caused by a culture of rapes!”
But I know that’s just sour grapes.
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