The A Mused Poetry Contest 11/07 – 11/13/2020

Chel Owens

Laughter is the best medicine, right after an appropriate prescription from a licensed physician. Most of us are freelance writers, so we’ll take what we can get.

Here are the rules for this week:

  1. In light of our lucky end date of Friday the 13th, the Theme is Bad Luck.
  2. Length: 113 words or fewer.
  3. Rhyming is optional, but recommended.
  4. There’s not much risqué about superstition, so keep the Rating at PG.
  5. The goal is LAUGHTER. Make black cats funny, Karma amusing, and ill-timed fate hilarious.

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next Friday (November 13) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to chance anonymity for a week.

Otherwise, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Leave me a comment if your link-back doesn’t show up by midnight of the day you create it.

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Best of luck to you!

Photo by David Bartus on Pexels.com

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©2020 Chel Owens

18 thoughts on “The A Mused Poetry Contest 11/07 – 11/13/2020”

  1. Pingback: Thirteen Demons Sitting on the Wall – Poetry, Short Prose and Walking

  2. Riding your bad luck

    Harry didn’t whinge about the flies
    that crawled up his nose and in his eyes.
    Townies might, like Tom, and Dick and Jim
    but Harry would never have that said of him.

    Out here, a man who couldn’t fix
    a snapped axle (he knew all the tricks),
    on a mail truck in a dry creek bed,
    wouldn’t be worth bein’ bloody fed.

    As for thinking you could hear a train,
    you’d have to be born without a brain
    or be a mental case escaped detention,
    so he paid it not the least attention.

    Well, he was right about the train
    but what he heard was a wall of rain;
    the flash flood took the mail and the truck
    and Harry cursed but rode his luck.

    Liked by 4 people

  4. A Shaggy Cats Tale.

    We had a big black cat,
    Grumpy, greedy, weigh too fat,
    On Duckpond Bridge he was often sat;
    Everything was ducky.

    One big bad duck had enough of that,
    Feathers flew, one bloody cat lost that spat,
    Ran into the path of a passing Dodge Diplomat;
    Flat out unlucky.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. The Unlucky Date
    By Heather Bergen

    Jerry was unlucky,
    His life was really sucky.
    He couldn’t find love on account of his gas,
    But finally, one day, he found a young lass.
    He asked her out and set the date,
    Though Friday 13, it couldn’t wait.
    Though warned to postpone,
    Jerry would not be alone!
    But alas, he did leave broken hearted,
    For as they sat down to dine he wet farted.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Pingback: The A Mused Poetry Contest 11/07 – 11/13/2020 – Twenty Four
  7. Pingback: Terrible Poetry – A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent.
  8. Pingback: I Suck at Luck – Relax, It's all Write

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