At long last, we long for the last winner of the Terrible Poetry Contest.
That winner is:
In the Can
Parting is such sweet sorrow
I wished to keep you
Till the morrow
But I ate what you held
Now is quelled
So you have no use
And I dare not set
For you’ll end up in a tree
Or worse yet
In the sea
You might kill a turtle or a fish
Or bird might think
You’re a tasty dish
I will mourn you gone, it’s true
I really, really
Really wanted to keep you
But the problem is, by far
I ate your innards
The candy bar
And since your fabric I tore
(My self-restraint went out the door)
I have no use for you
Congratulations, Trent! You are the most terrible poet of the week!
I chose Trent’s poem after narrowing entries down to three or four that followed the prompt and made me cringe. After reading through those, his won for its awful reminders of the free-verse poems that just quite don’t make poetic sense.
Thank you for all the laments and well-wishes. You are lovely people and clever terrible poets.
Oh Cap’n! My Cap’n
Must we say goodbye?
Just a year after we said hi?
Oh Cap’n! My Cap’n
This game gave me intellectual game
Makin me smart and stuff, ya know
But now, to whom shall my game I show
Things will never be the same
Good times we did share
Of laughs and more laughter
They made me merry and smarter
Friends did hug and care
But alas, ‘tis time to sit on the rafter
And say, “Oh Cap’n, ‘tis an end to chatter.”
*Sad violins play in the distance while the sky turns crimson, and motes of dust circle the bed. It’s lonely here on the rafter*
Maybe we’ll meet again some sunny day
You never know your luck
I must mosey along
Fare Thee Well 😭😭😭
by Heather Dawn
Oh the heartbreak that is inside my heart
A song of mourning as we part…
Mourning all the better things,
The things that life used to bring(s)…
Fare thee well!
My good memories of times meeting with friends and family and people, in groups larger than ten.
Fare thee well!
Also to soap and cleaners…
Oh how I smell!
Also farewell to buses, and haircuts and my favorite pair of pants which now fits far too snug. (Because of all the food I’ve eaten).
Fare thee well. To the hug. (Which I never loved in the first place, but now I think I could face)
Fare thee well to the world I once knew,
The one where we could find wipes by the loo,
Where shoppers could walk two by two,
Where kids could go to and from the zoo,
The one that didn’t feel quite as blue,
And I didn’t have to eat roadkill stew,
Or have to speak two meters away from you,
Wow lots of words to rhyme with “ooo”!!!
And fare thee well to a contest I never did win,
For poetry terribleness was not within,
But I give thee one last try,
Before I have to say good bye.
And on and on and on life goes
Ever changing, keeping me on my toes….
Fare thee well, to really bad poems.
by Ian Kay
Tai Kwon Doo
The fat lady sings
Who brought an opera singer
to the martial arts?
call an ambulance
(but nothing rhymes with ambulance)
well then call a dentist
(you’re not making this easy)
how about an MD?
by Matt Snyder
that time i fell
scraped my knee
cut my finger deep
using that damn peeler
when i tripped on the edge of the pool
tore off my toenail
you were there
love you BAND-AID hate to see you go
the brown crusty blood remnants that covered up my woes
BAND-AID come in every size, even covered that boil on my thigh
love you BAND-AID for all you have done
sure beats that time i used some ABC gum
A Canned Goodbye
Sad shell of lesser metal,
you once had something vital,
an elixir envied by the sweetness
gods, tinged with carbonated bliss.
Orange-like flavors once wrapped my tongue,
but now, your delicious tune has been sung.
I sit here now, in silent dejection, with your tiny skeleton,
carved by emptiness, a misshapened tin.
Now, it is time, that I cast your being into a bin
where all things disappear. It should be a sin,
but you’ve lived-out your usefulness,
I can’t say the same for the rest.
I will always cherish this warm night,
but the hour is turning into light
where thirst thrives. Don’t fret,
your memory has placed a net
across my acidified canines,
where a corrosion opines
deeper than love’s design.
The Last One!
Farewell! Thou art too ripe for my whiffing,
And alas alas, thou can’t thyself sniffing,
The perfume of thy boudoir gives little easing;
When my love for thee is nose deceasing.
And of that odor, why am I deserving?
Your fair halitosis has left me unnerving,
And so my face turned away is breathing.
Tell me, how do I hold thee while wheezing
Thou gavest thy kiss with exhaling and blowing,
Oh me, my mistaking, I must be going;
AN ODE TO THE ANODYNE MS. O
Bring a ring o’ poeters,
A pocket full of poseurs,
A tissue (of terribility) at issue
And we all fell down.
A bunch of us numpties, with almighty gall,
Us proletarian-lumpy had a great fail
All Chelsea’s exhortations to fracture our pens
Ended in the dumpster time and again.
But the fighter inside ‘er will eventually out
Back will come her brain and give the spiders
Gout from the sun-dried tomatoes that on her pizza reign,
And, Owen to her zeitgeist, she’ll re-rack us once again.
The Last Gasp
Whatever will I do?
Without a forum for,
Terrible verse that wells up
Within and must get out
’cause its too awful to keep
Alas, poor poems, I knew them well
Perhaps a few belonged in hell
Far too many made angels LOL
When people tried to be bad, and very short fell…
AN ODE TO GIANT TURDS
Look how ye curl
Above the water’s surface
You big, sassy turd, source of my pride.
Rare is the whorl
Which rises enough to lance
Through soft, golden expanse, brave height.
But now, brown pearl,
I must take the flushing stance
And send you away, unforgotten but affright.
Thou doth swirl
In a porcelain water-dance
Amidst ribbons and twills of white.
Gone! Flushed, hurled!
My mind is blown, in a trance,
That I couldn’t share your largess and might.
The joy of my innards
When you escaped by chance
During a bowel movement after midnight!
I’ll never unfurl
Our secret toilet stance
That created you, the biggest turd of my life.
The End of Something Great
Holy moly chicken man
All I want is a grand
I will be your friend for a long time
Until of course, I lose my mind
Oh my goodness
Oh my gosh
I would love some mackintosh
As I’m as hungry as a bear
Look at my cute underwear
There is a moose upon my roof
Trying to catch a silly goose
There’s a dog in the tree
He’s laughing, he’s full of glee
There’s a mouse chasing a cat
I’m going to get you, you dirty rat
Look and you will find
All of those you have left behind
Dust bunnies under the chair
Mixed all in with the dog’s hair
You think I don’t care? Beware.
You are a silly goat
I think you’ve lost my rope
I’m such a dope
I don’t know how to cope
Without my rope
Before I go there’s one more thing
I really wish that I could sing
I for one will miss your contests
A weekly terrible but the best
It was fun
I wish that I’d been here when it begun
Is there anything we could do
So many of us are feeling blue
Please change your mind
and keep it going
If you do we’ll all be glowing
An Ode to the Bald
Oh, Woe is me, Alas and Alack
Oh how I wish I could have my hair back
Now my poor head is shiny and bald
My comb is redundant, my crown feels the cold
It’s the one thing for which I would pray, steal or beg,
If I could no longer be as bald as an egg.
Through the Looking Glass, Revisited
Ever been too high?
no? Neither have I
I once took a header
through a rabbit hole though.
I met no queens, I met no hatters
nor albino bunnies, if that even matters.
At a long wooden table, all set for tea
was a dapper transvestite, looking at me.
He peered through specs, with really thick glass
in disbelief he glanced askance.
He, you see; was impeccably dressed
I on the other hand looked quite the mess
I didn’t smoke hookahs, saw no smiling cats,
but I saw something almost as int’resting as that.
At dawn there were birds and two fat boys;
with a friendly sensei.
who spoke at me – to my surprise;
taught me to use mushrooms, for controlling my size.
When I woke, I had a knot on my head
I felt horrible, wished I was dead
I recalled a walrus named Paul, a carpenter too
I remember the face of a singer named Grace.
Ever been too high?
no? Neither have I.
A Farewell Cha cha
Chelsea says: Remember everything I taught cha
Even though it’s torture.
Cha cha cha.
She’ll tell you how to write a terrible poem
Even if you’re a gnome.
Cha cha cha.
We’ve had a lot of fun along the way,
With Chelsea giving her decision every Friday.
Cha cha cha.
Over the year I’ve tried to make every poem suck
But sometimes I find it well-nigh impossible to be dreadful. Like now.
Cha cha cha.
You made us dance our way in and dance out way out.
I don’t have a clue what this poem’s about?
Cha cha cha.
So thank you Chelsea, farewell to the terrible,
I’m doing my best to make this poem absolutely horrible.
Cha cha cha.
Cha cha cha.
Cha cha cha.
A Failure To Communicate
All my giddy plans for more overseas travel
Have begun to chafe and fray and unravel,
It’s a quiet cruisy life here in the South Pacific
Where sometimes ‘quiet’ borders on the soporific.
When you’re stuck down in the Shaky Isles
A month of lonely lockdown has its trials,
Here, we’re so far from the madding crowd,
Here, straying from our bubble is not allowed.
Netflix only goes so far in breaking the tedium
And I’ve wearied of the always Right medium
So I tuned out news of the ever-present Covid,
Turned off the big screen and gone off the grid.
But then my trusty Hewlett-Packard packed up
And how quickly my un-spammed mail backed up,
Now its a lonely planet to be stuck in on my own
And I’m slowly losing friends thanks to a fading i-phone.
So I found it timely to clean out the e-mails-
Those casual offers to meet consenting females-
One-off deals guaranteed to double your income-
Offers to collect a share of a Nigerian’s Princely sum.
So I trawled my way manfully through my spam,
I deleted every charitable plea and cheap scam,
Finally the the excremental electronic dumping was done,
Then came my first message… would it be a welcome one?
Qantas called, said my frequent flier miles, set to expire
Could be honorably exchanged, should I so desire
For a once in a lifetime trip on a luxury cruise ship-
I deleted THAT with one indignant finger flip.
there are some things
that I’m not sad to see go
like mrs bryntin’s habit
of chewing tobacco
or that odd pair
of novelty slippers
gifted last christmas
(they’re in the shape of some kippers)
or that strange pen
with invisible ink
can’t see what I wrote
so no chance to rethink
got shot of that cat
some pet that wasn’t ours
shat in the borders
now pushing up flowers
goodbye excruciating couplets
deliberately lacking rhythm
and purposefully lacking
goodbye terrible poetry contest
a shame it won’t be there
but my best wishes go to chelsea
and the family in her care
Oh Boris isn’t it time you went away
Surely it’s time for another holiday
Its only a few months since your last Caribbean jolly
How you must miss drinking all that expensive bolly
Your country is deep in crisis and finds itself in such a terrible mess
So many mistakes and lapses of judgement, yet you find it impossible to confess
It’s always someone else’s fault and never your own
You haven’t managed this pandemic preferring to blame the Eurozone
You don’t listen to reason, facts are just ignored
But you do listen to Cummings, Britains very own evil Sith Lord
You only had one aim and that was hard Brexit
Your getting your way leaving us deep in the shit
Because of your privileged upbringing you are entitled to rule
You lead by example, bluffing and acting the fool
You like all the trappings which goes with being the top man
Sadly hard work and emergency meetings is not part of your plan
So for the good of your country please take your leave
Go back to your mansion, don’t worry we won’t grieve
So I long for the day when you pack your bags and wish No10 a fond farewell
Go back to your lovely life, do nothing and watch your bank account swell.
Scratching and clawing
With nails of a macaw 🦜
Mama said–these nails must GO!
Toddler went running around to and fro
Screaming like a me–me was out
To get him good
His fingers would be maimed
Shorn in pieces
How would he protect himself
From the wild wild feme-ale
Mom caught him and dragged him
Into the bathroom and chained him
The house echoed with screams
As she engaged in the operation
Mama removed the offending weapons
Right into the toilet
Round and round they went
Goodbye whimpered the boy-let
My talons are gone!
This is Ze End
A quiet stage, dark and dusty
Velvet backdrops, rusted tin cans
Buzzing of flies, folded gloves
Last week’s newspaper, all wrong.
And then a swine in hooves and a tux
meanders out to center stage and breathes in a huff:
“Ba-dee, ba-dee, That’s all, Folks!”
The Terrible Poetry Contest is done.
And now life has no fun.
No, I’m only joking,
although my voice is kind of choking.
And even though this news has left me feeling a little blue,
I’m a better Terrible Poet because of you.
I hope everything with you is OK,
and that you just need to step away.
Thank you, Chelsea Ann.
From, Michael Fishman
I will miss you..!
Yes, I will miss you
I still remember the day
I bought you, so rosy and pretty
It felt terrible to ruin your virginity
By brushing my yellow teeth..!
Your predecessors lasted just a month..
Yet, I had you for over four months..!
Till you looked as bald as an oldie..!
Though, I bought another
I kept you inside my brush holder
Was happy to watch you every morning and night
But nothing lasts forever
And it’s time for you to leave..!
As I found to my dismay,
My two year old grabbing and chewing you today.!
How dare he..!? You belongs to me only..!
With a heavy heart, am throwing you in the trash bin..
But am quite positive,
That your tooth brushy soul will find a way back..
Through the next brush, you will buy..!!
Thank you all so very very very very very berry very much! Parting from bad poetry is such sweet, satisfying sorrow.
Come back ’round here tomorrow to see what the new weekly contest will be.
Trent: Here’s a badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:
©2020 The poets, and their respective poems.