Welcome to The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest, #33.
Our contest is about crafting the sort of poems only amateurs love. It’s about the cringe of the professionals. Sometimes it’s even a work of the most deplorably flowery adjectives coupled with way too many rhymes.
Read my brief how-to for more information, then follow the specifics for this week:
- Topic: Unusual ways to make money.
(No, prostitution is not that unusual. Thanks, Certain-Regulars-Who-Know-Who-You-Are, for wondering.) - Keep the Length as short or long as your muse needs, with an upper limit of 250 words.
- If you want to Rhyme, go ahead. If not, I won’t stop you either. As always, playing with rhymes is a great way to screw up a potentially lovely poem.
- Most of all, make it terrible! Elon Musk, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Warren Buffet, and even the POTUS himself need to take a full five seconds of their precious time to stop, look at you, and shake their head in disbelief.
- Rating? PG or nicer, as usual.
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (July 12) to submit a poem.
Use the form below if you want to be anonymous for a week.
If not, and for a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments.
Have fun!
Photo credit:
Sam Truong Dan
I’ll just collect tips!
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🙂 Ah, c’mon.
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😉
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In dire need
Wendy wanted to make some dough
So she could go to the show
If she didn’t make it to the show you know
It would be the second year in a row.
Wendy stood at her front gate
With a notice, written on slate,
“I need to make dough!
I need to make dough!”
Wendy realized that it was a waste of time.
She might as well have gone to war and been on the front line.
Then a kind man came up, rather haughty
And said making dough was his forte.
“I’ll show you how to make dough,” he said.
Wendy though he was light in the head.
She said “I know how to make dough, but at the very least
I can’t make dough without yeast.”
The man said “What the hell!
I realize now you can’t spell.”
You don’t need dough,
You knead dough before taking it to the Bakers’ Show.
When that was sorted
Everyone danced and cavorted
They sang “Dough is what she kneads!
Dough is what she kneads!
Fa la la la la! Dough is what she kneads!”
Wendy’s chances increased
of winning the bread-making feast
once she got some yeast.
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Of course you wrote this, Bruce. 😀
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I think I’m starting to feel like I’m stuck in a groove!
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😀 Are you feeling type-cast?
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At times I feel like the Gutenberg printer.
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You compose in German?
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My household deals in 82 languages co-ordinating translation of chemical documents. I alone am monolingual so I do the formatting!
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Take a Bow, Entropy
Hey here, look at me
The name is Entropy
I’m the flibber-gee-wibbit, the whoosit, the what’s it
That wears, corrodes, splinters, breaks, splits and frays all the things you own, from your patience to your very home.
I’m the thing that makes your pipes leak right before company is due.
I’m the squeaky wheel during a bike ride that echoes in the light of the moon.
I’m the rust that erodes at your swing
I’m the darling who ruins and breaks everything.
Even a no risk home owners insurance policy.
But for a fee? Never I.
But it’s my living just the same.
I collect your bad tempers, harsh words and examine your scowls
And then I make merry while the whole deck of cards comes tumbling down.
I’m havoc, I’m free, I’m powerful, I’m me.
I’m Entropy and I keep the flow of the economy, hee hee.
Free trade, capitalism, the green buck, oh oui
I’m kept in the front pocket of every crook who wants to make money. 💰
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Entropy is the worst! I guess I ought to cash in on its devastation.
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If you do, you might have to add in a few pennies to make up the difference after Entropy decreases the value of your dollar bills. 😉☺️
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I had fun today
It’s the month of May
I slept on a cot
I ate a lot
I listened to Sir Lancelot
I broke a pot
I’m in love
I have a glove
I like my rat
I play cricket with a bat
I have a ball
I am small
I like you
You like me too
I am good
I like food
I ate sweets
And meats
I drank wine
The sun shine
Oh yeah oh yeah
Oh yeah oh yeah
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😀 This is terrible, Nitin.
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Thank you. I was hoping I’d win, but when you’re competing against Bruce, it’s like trying to win the Wimbledon against Federer (in his prime)
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😀 I think it’s possible.
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I’m no Nadal 😂
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I wasn’t going to do one but my brain had other ideas:
Blood Money
When I yet again start running out of money
To the blood bank I go to sell off my red honey
It’s a rare type so they’re always in need of some
If only I could produce more I wouldn’t have to be a bum
I even offered to sell my mucus dripping out of my nose
Or the copious earwax or what I find between my toes
Or any other of my bodily secretions I would quite happily sell
But they weren’t so interested in those as far as I could tell
Joanne Fisher
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Just interested in how the earwax got between you toes. Uhm, on second thought, please, please don’t tell me!
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The line is “Or the copious earwax or what I find between my toes”. How do you reckon the earwax is between the toes???
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OK, I missed the “or” and was really wondering how it got there….
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Lol 😂
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Chelsea if you’re not going to let me defend my work could you please remove my poem from the competition?
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I’m sorry; did I miss some drama? I don’t ever read the poems till Friday and didn’t get time to approve comments till late this evening.
Is it all showing now?
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I really liked this one! Maybe I wasn’t supposed to like it ’cause it’s terrible. 😀
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Knee deep in the marsh
Still as a stump
Hear the trill of a Warbler
Imagine it is plump
Got the special quill
At the ready
Ready to aim
Hands held steady
Several in the bush
Most likely two
I get one in hand
Sure that it will do
Paint brush held tight
Microscope-like specs
Without a quiver
I write the tiny text
I let the little birdy go
It will fly away soon
And act like nothing’s wrong
Whistling it’s tune
But some birder will see
Written on it’s belly
An ad for the store
Where they sell raspberry jelly
And other delights
You can’t live without
All are guaranteed
To put a smile on your snout
You see I make my living
By writing words
Tiny advertisements
On the bellies of birds
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You had me snickering at the two in a bush bit… 😀 Good job, Trent!
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I had to sneak that two in the bush bit in 😉 Thanks.
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It nearly won it for you. 🙂
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https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2019/07/10/a-truly-terrible-rhyme/
Here you go, a truly terrible rhyme, that hopefully makes all my other poetry look a bit better. 🙂
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I’m looking forward to reading it!!
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It was really terrible, Kristian. Definitely a contender.
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Thank you. The chosen winner’s entry was absolutely brilliant and awful. 🙂
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‘Twas a difficult choice. 🙂
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Rupert likes to make shed loads of money.
Not bad for a lad who comes from a land which is so sunny
A man who set up his own news corporation
Who still had time to build a TV station
Making so much dosh he thinks he owns your nation
So how does our Rupert make his cash
Promoting fake stories with panache
Filling his TV channels with balderdash
Getting you to watch TV shows filled with advert trash
Rupert also likes to control the news
He wants you to sign up to this perverted views
Making sure his political buddies get friendly interviews
His opponents suffer as fake news spews
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I’m sensing that theme again. 🙂 It’s all true, though.
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