The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Chel Owens

Howdy, young’uns. This here be the Terrible Poetry Contest. We been hostin’ y’all fer 55 rounds now.

If’n yer not sure a’ yerself, click here. Bad poetry’s about as tricky as kissin’ an ornery donkey that may jest be yer mother-in-law.

Here are yer ‘pecifics:

  1. I hear tell the Topic‘s a folk song ’bout heaven. You done heard ’bout “The Big Rock Candy Mountain?” Sing me where yer moun’ain is an’ where you’d be.
  2. I ain’t got all day, so’s a good verse an’ chorus’ll do me fer Length.
  3. And then there’s that Rhymin‘ business. You go’n ahead and do it if’n it’s there in yer heaven.
  4. I say to Make it terrible. Me an’ my boys will ‘termine to add you to our Mulligan Stew soon’s we hear it sung.
  5. Now, son: yer idea a’ the hereafter may just include some things more sensitive types shouldn’a read. Keep things under the PG belt, if’n you can.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (January 24, 2020) to submit a poem.

Use the form b’low to keep things a secret.

To share all ’round, go ‘head an’ post in those there comments. Let the judge know if’n you don’ see a pingback after sundown.

Y’all have fun now, ya hear!

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Photo credit:
Marko Mudrinic

31 thoughts on “The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest”

  1. Oh, I’m a Gonna Go!

    I’m a gonna go out where the wind durst blow
    Sand in my knickers and mud in my toes
    Where cow pies rightly disappear and the crickets eat them dangburned rusted bandoliers!
    Where the guns don’t get to shootin’,
    Where there’s no high brow falutin’
    And everyone dances ’till half past three…
    If you need me, why that there where’s I’ll be….l
    In the Land of Absolution…!

    Liked by 6 people

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  4. A haven or Heaven?

    It would be bliss on Earth here…
    (Hold on, I’ll be right there)
    Uhm, I like to sit in my chair
    (I said I was coming!!)
    Not really work, but, well, bumming…
    (Hold your horses)
    Uhm, bumming about, reading some sources
    (Darn it, I’m in the middle of a sentence!)
    Doing writing penitence
    (Not a story, a poem. What? No, I said I’m, writing poetry…)
    No one to bother me, even if it is three…
    (Just a minute!)
    Uhm, three AM and I’m really in t’ it
    (I don’t care if supper is getting cold)
    ‘Cause being disturbed while writing gets old
    (OK, OK, I give up)
    So heaven would be to write undisturbed from sundown to sun up…

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Heaven to be sung to the tune of “Waltzing Matilda” if it fits

    Heaven is like a suitcase in the
    luggage compartment of a train
    hopefully the owner
    is sitting down somewhere on the train
    and will claim the suitcase from the
    luggage compartment when the passenger wants to get off.

    Heaven is also like the toothbrush that’s in the
    suitcase along with some toothpaste
    and a flannel
    and some aftershave – to be bannal.
    I also like to think that Heaven is like mowing the lawn.

    Chorus: Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
    Heaven is on my mine
    Kumbaya Kumbaya
    Those who don’t want to get to Heaven
    can go to Hell
    but I’m sure ev’ryone who reads this
    will have a better idea whether or not they want to get there
    so Michael row your boat ashore.

    Liked by 2 people

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  13. Woot! I participated this time! Been a while, but I have no job and wanted to do something fun today.

    Hi, husband whose name I forget but think is Mark! Hope this one gets past your censorship. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  14. The Giant Mozzie of Kozzie

    I went searchin’ for the treasure
    The wealth beyond measure
    That would bring me great pleasure
    Up there in the blue azure.
    Atop the mount called Kozzie
    The dream of every Ozzie
    Lay hidden in a secret pozzie
    And guarded by a giant mozzie.

    Chorus
    Nobody knows the trouble I have seein’
    Since I’s bit on the eye
    While reachin’ for the sky
    By the mozzie of Kosciuszko.

    Liked by 1 person

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