Welcome to The 28th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest.
Buckle your safety belts, keep your arms and legs inside, and review the manual if you’re worried about how to operate a terrible poem. We encourage mis-meter, almost-rhymes, and intentional clichés on this rocket ship.
Here are the specifics for this week:
- Topic: The excitement of summer vacation (or winter, if you’re down South).
- Length: Postcard-sized. If you write rather small, you can fit more in your poem.
- Rhyme if you wish; grandma probably won’t be able to read your handwriting anyway.
- Make it terrible. Not only will granny not know if you crossed your t’s but might also misconstrue a few of your words for some she thought she heard her favorite news anchor warn about the young’uns using these days.
- Rating: PG or more decent. We’re having good, clean fun this summer.
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (June 7) to submit a poem.
Use the form if’n you don’t want yours up till next week.
For immediate fame and gratification from your peers, include your poem or a link to it in the comments below.
Tell your friends, your TwoFacebook crowd, your Tweeters; whatever. Spread the word and share the love.
Most of all, have fun!
Photo credit:
Vicko Mozara
The perils of camping
We’re leaving town to go on summer vacation.
The traffic heading out is like a conflagration.
We’ve got the three kids in the back of the car.
We’re going to a lonely camping spot with no shops other than very far.
Arrive we have! now to erect the tents;
One for the kids and one, you know what is meant,
for me and the Missus.
Already she’s flooded me with kisses.
Well here we are getting down to business.
The kids are all fed and have washed up their dishes.
Oh oh… oh Honey, we’re safe in our tents
but I forgot to bring the condiments.
Chorus: Heigh ho! Heigh ho! Is it off back home we go
because Daddy forgot to bring his condiments?
Who wants stuff heated up around the camp fire
when eating a sausage without condiments is dire?
Heigh ho! Heigh ho! Is it off back home we go
because Daddy forgot to bring his condiments?
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Wow, I’m blown away, Bruce!
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Holy mustard, Batman. We need to ketch-up. I relish this.
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Oh dear, Bruce! I do believe your granny might be able to read quite a bit of the meaning of this one!
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If either of my grannies were able to read a meaning into this poem one would be 133 and the other 123!
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Well, Capt. Literal, maybe they’re rolling in their clouds!
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They also had very clean minds (I would imagine, never having known them!)
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No offense meant, Capt.
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I get it now, Chelsea! Forget my previous comment on your other post…
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😀 Sorry. I take them in order. No worries!
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You’re good ☺ thanks!
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Don’t worry, read the entire thing. It is PG. Really. I swear (well, I don’t cuss!), it is teen safe.. 😉
Time for the two of us
To be where we’re not
For privacy take long
treks
We’ll get all sweaty
And deliciously hot
While engaging in rigorous
Hikes
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This was quite good, Trent! A definite runner-up!
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Thanks! Nice to be a runner up in terrible 😉
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I do what I can!
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Oi’, Summah!
Lemunade and sugahs
Butterflies and sands
My dear, look at my toes
They’ve been completely eaten by crabs.
Oi, get yer feet off my beach blanket
Tide, do yer worst
For I’m a sun crisped lobster
A blue eyed, Caucasian curse.
Tantamount to the joyous degrees and aspects of the tiny filigreed hairs of a baby tarantula from Spain.
But never, ever with a yellow umbrella on Tuesday, for shame.
Is how much I enjoy my summer rain.
Drip. Drip. Drip…
….
….
….
Zazzle.
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I think I may have made a masterpiece.
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I just think you may have.
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Mine: https://jedigirlblog.wordpress.com/2019/06/05/i-really-wish-you-were-here-instead-of-me-terrible-poetry-contest/
I Really Wish You Were Here, Instead Of Me
Here I am just soaking in the brine
I really wish I was having a good time
It would be really nice if someone else was here
If only I had won a totally different tier
I am at this wonderful summer resort
All because one day I bought a torte
The prize was a holiday in the midst of winter
All I’m hoping is this isn’t going to make me bitter
I better go as I’m running out of space
I long to soon be back in an aeroplane’s carapace
By the time I get home I’ll be full of joy
but for now I should let go of this freezing buoy
Joanne Fisher
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