There’s something about Christmas that sets our Scrooge-like minds to soft, sentimental musings.
Such has been the state of my mind, in absence of an annual tradition no home should be without: the Terrible Poetry Contest.
Inspired by Greg, the cousin of Jacob Marley*, I’ve decided to unearth my Ghost of Christmases Past for just one week. Not sure to which phantoms I refer? Click here, Ebenezer. Not sure what a terrible poem might be? Look here, Mr. Scrooge.
Welcome to the Terrible Poetry Contest, Holiday Edition 2021.
- Topic: A parody of a Christmas song. You’ve been listening to them since November 1st, whether you wanted to or not. Now, show those Christmas shoes and Dashers/Dancers and 12 Days of headache just how you feel.
- Length: A couple stanzas. Or, just one. You choose. (If you choose every. single. verse. of 12 Days, however, you shall be boiled with your own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through your heart.)
- Rhyming: Obviously. These are song parodies. You’d better rhyme!
- Oh; for the love –Make it terrible! Mismatch the song’s meter. Schmaltz up the message to the extreme. Cliché the heck out of it. If you aren’t visited by all three of the Christmas spirits, plus Michael Bublé’s record label lawyers -pleading with you to just stop, for the love of all that’s holly and ivy; just stop!– then you’re not trying hard enough.
- Rating: PG or cleaner. The children are listening!
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Monday (December 20) 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. Please let me know if your pingback or poem do not show up within a day.
As always, have fun. Spread the word. Spread the joy.
Sung to the tune of We Three Kings
We three drunks of the neighborhood bar
Pounding shots we daren’t drive the car
Bloody Mary, beer and brandy
Oh my gosh, I’m seeing stars
Bourbon, I love you, high as a kite
Bar with a mirror lit up so bright
To the gutter leading, hope I’m not bleeding
Guide us to thy Michelob Light
Chicken wings, my mouth is on fire
Give me a pint to douse the hot pyre
Drunks forever, barfing never
Karaoke carols join the choir
Oh-ohhhh, bar of wonder, bar of blight
Bar of cocktails, blurry-eyed sight
Olives and cherries, I’m feeling merry
Cheers to a tipsy Christmas night!
©2021 Chelsea Owens
*Greg is not actually Jacob Marley’s cousin.