Welcome to The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest, Week Seventeen. I went back and counted.
If you’re new, confused, and/or need directions; read the how-to about terrible poetry. Here, at The Terrible Poetry Contest, we strive to make the best of the best shudder and crawl back under a blanket of Shakespeare. We aim to offend, but in a very high-minded way.
Here are the rules for this week’s prompt:
- The topic is Under-the-Table Deals.
- For length, keep your poem greater than or equal to a haiku but less than Beowulf.
- Should you rhyme? Up to you this occasion.
- Most importantly, make it terrible. I want the back-alley agents of disreputable deals to turn themselves in, sobbing, just to get away from what you write.
- Keep it PG-rating or lower. You can do it.
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (March 15, 2019) to submit a poem. Hey; it’s The Ides of March and my wedding anniversary. We just might make it to sixteen years.
If you are shy, use the form and I’ll get an e-mail. Leave me a comment saying that you did, so we cover our bases.
For a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments.
Also, please tell your friends. You can use your mouth, your phone, your blog; whatever. Let’s get the word out! The world needs more terrible poetry!
Have fun!
Photo credit:
Rosalind Chang
Under-the-Table Deal.
Get up from under the table, dude!
Said the guy whose shoes I was buying
I haven’t got them on, right now, he said
Though I think he was lying. See
I was too quick to agree on the price
he’d selected and once on my knees
he rejected but I, quick as a flash,
produced the cash and removing his
shoes, stuck a rolled up note between his toes
and the deal was completed and he was defeated,
as were his shoes, no pun intended,
for a fair price and money well spended.
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My favorite part of this was the rhyme of “intended” with “spended.” Thanks for the terrible contribution!
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It happens in restaurants
I suspect there’s a great deal more
going on under that table over there
than meets the eye.
They not simply eating ice cream and blueberry pie.
I bet they’re playing hanky-panky with their knees.
I’ve a good mind to go over and whip the table cloth
off
to expose their chicanery for all to sees
if you please.
I think it only fair to surmise –
and I wouldn’t be at all surprised –
if before long they were both under the table smooching away,
for every dog has its day.
Next thing he’ll be feeding her custard
with his own spoon. Shucks.
What’s going on under that table over there is yuk.
I hate going out to restaurants.
My wife is such a flirt.
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😂
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Not bad, Bruce! 🙂
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A Poem So Terrible It Can’t Be Named
Oh my, oh me
I dearly have to pee.
But alas, the Labrador fell asleep on me.
So cute, so adorable, her face all wrinkled
She lets out a stinky and my nose truly krinkles.
Twenty minutes later, the air is fresh and new.
My breathing and vitals back to normal, phew!
“Dear,” I coo, wanting to get up.
“Do you want a treat, my little duck?”
Her amber eyes open and I’m up like a flash
I nearly walk on water to the toilet in my dash.
“Sorry, dear,” I call from the throne. “You’ll get a treat on the morrow–no interest on that loan.”
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😀 I may have had personal experience with this one!
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😁😁😁
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Pingback: Dinner Table Gambit (Terrible Poetry Contest) | Michaelsfishbowl
Happy Anniversary week! Here’s mine:
https://michaelsfishbowl.com/2019/03/11/dinner-table-gambit-terrible-poetry-contest/
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Thanks! 🙂
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Pingback: Secret Agent Man – Let Me Tell You the Story of…
Somehow I missed this in my reader.. Hmmmm this might be a toughy…..
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I’m not sure about that… 🙂 You know, for YOU.
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Deal
Under the table
blood drips onto the crackpots there under
making a deal for blood-proof umbrella heirlooms
with a star chart marking the space alien’s location
Blood drips on the undercover policeman’s head.
He says, “The poker deal is dead. I want hence
grenades under an umbrella, and incense for ten cents.”
But you have to bribe the dealer for a deal
and the dealer was dead.
The deal blew up in their faces, and
they couldn’t save face with Adam Smith
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I have to say that I thought this one was truly terrible. I perked up with “space alien’s” and “incense” but other than that I had no idea what I was reading! 🙂
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Welcome to the contest, Doug! This was an impressive bit of terribleness! I appreciate your references; very clever.
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Pingback: Leave it to Amelia | Thru Violet's Lentz
Here is the direct link to mine.
https://violetslentz.home.blog/2019/03/15/leave-it-to-amelia/
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Oy. Trying. Happy anniversary
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Thanks! Don’t worry -I’ll divert the judge while submit an entry!
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Done. It’s terrible but well..
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Pingback: The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest-What’s the Deal – Ruth Scribbles