The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Chel Owens

Good day, fellow poetmasters (or somesuch)! May I be the first to welcome you to Week 35 of the Terrible Poetry Contest?

If you’re seeking directions, read my how-to about terrible poetry. Specifically for this week, I also recommend reviewing limericks over at contest nine.

Because:

  1. The Topic is a limerick about poets who take themselves way too seriously.
  2. One limerick’s Length is five lines long; an anapaest meter. Double it up for ten, if you wish.
  3. Limericks rhyme …or, at least, they get really really close.
  4. The most important rule of thumb is to make it terrible! You need anarchist beatniks in coffee shops the world over to raise themselves from a backlit Apple, scowl over something besides the injustice of everything, and slowly sip their organic latte in pure distaste for what you have done.
  5. As usual, keep the rating PGish or kinder.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (July 26) to submit a poem.

Use the form below in order to be anonymous for a week.

If you want immediate internet attention and possible comments, however, include your poem or a link to it in the comments below.

I do not read entries until the deadline and always do so with names removed.

Have fun!

 

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Photo credit:
abi ismail

24 thoughts on “The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest”

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  4. Heat is hot and I’m told not very cold
    ’tis known she’s got the pot and the gold
    she’s got the hot dress on
    that she’ll not long don
    and befuddled and muddled a fortune foretold

    Liked by 2 people

  5. There once was an old man named Stan
    Who won the Poet Laureate, upper hand
    He was celebrated all over, was featured in a Doodle;
    He held five hour lectures in Tucson, Dover and Vancouver
    And Google decided to replace his day with an Homage to Poodles.

    🐩 Arf.

    Liked by 2 people

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  8. In praise of Shakespeare making up words

    There once was a poet from Stratford
    Who regarded himself as absolutely confabulatfid
    He wrote many a sonnet
    And then said Oh! Donnit!
    I didn’t mean to be so desderpolygnatfid.

    P.S. I hope that the fact I live in Stratford means extra points.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Lugubrious University

    Darkness descends in the night of mourning
    Glory be, I shall write sunrise in dew-mornings
    Profundity in me is profuse
    So for pomp I use
    my lucubrations with candles at night for taunting

    Liked by 1 person

  10. There once was a poet named “Peter”
    Who said, when set up with a nice wholesome intelligent and attractive girl who couldn’t have been any sweeter,
    “I must write a poem
    I have to rush home
    and, then I’ll be pleased to meter”

    Liked by 1 person

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  12. There once was a Boris who wanted to be a Poet

    He thought he was better than us that’s why he only drunk Moët
    
He thought it was ok to lie, cheat and bluff it all the way to the top

    He even had his hairstyled like his best friend Donald’s flop

    Unbelievably one day he became a poet wouldn’t you ******** know it


    As this is PG of course ********* means just. In no way does it mean effing.


    Liked by 1 person

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