The Terrible Poetry Contest 5/5/22

Welcome (welcome! welcome!) to the biweekly Terrible Poetry Contest!

Everyone starts out terrible; some poets never move on from there! This ‘contest’ is about embracing the bad, letting go of inhibitions, and poking fun of those stodgy writers who can’t see the farce for the poetries. I’ve typed up a map in case you’re still lost. For the rest of you, here are the specifics:

  1. Geoff Le Pard’s poem won last time‘s contest, so he’s set our Theme and Form:
    Take the first line of a famous poem and then rewrite the rest as [the poet] see(s) fit. Bonus points if [you] use the original meter and rhyming scheme.
  2. I believe the Length is entirely up to you.
  3. Rhyme? If you feel inclined.
  4. Don’t take it from me. Take it from Maya Angelou, Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, John Keats, Sylvia Plath, William Blake, William Wordsworth, and the immortal Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz. Seriously; take it from them and make it terrible.
  5. Rating: PG or cleaner.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MDT on Thursday, May 19 to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous for a week. It hasn’t gone through unless you see a message saying it has.

For a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Please alert me if your pingback or poem does not show up within a day.

The winner gains bragging rights, a badge, and the option to choose the next iteration’s topic and type of poem.

Photo by Mike on


©2022 Chel Owens

12 thoughts on “The Terrible Poetry Contest 5/5/22

  1. “A Psalm of Life” stolen from Longfellow

    Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
    That someone has used all the cream.
    For an idiot so wonton makes for wonders,
    Of why we let it on the team.

    Coffee is real! Coffee is earnest!
    And true black is not our goal;
    Thief thou art, and best returnest,
    That half and half in its bowl.

    Liked by 4 people

  2. Mary had a little lamb
    She had a goat as well
    She had a cat, a dog, a skunk
    (with it’s distinctive smell)
    She had some tigers and some bears
    She had some lions too
    With elephants and a giraffe
    She had a private zoo
    She took them all to school one day
    So that teachers could be met
    She was a very charming girl
    She was the teachers’ pet
    But the teachers they became alarmed
    To hear the lion roar
    They ran into the classroom
    And they locked the classroom door
    To Mary this was hurtful
    So she left in some dismay
    She gathered up her animals
    And led her flock away
    She went in search of somewhere else
    To let her creatures roam
    And came upon another spot
    Her Nan’s retirement home
    She found a room where all looked bored
    Called ‘Geriatric Care’
    So she pushed her pets right through the door
    And let them loose in there.

    Liked by 4 people

  3. The first line comes from Robert Frost’s “Fire and Ice”.

    Fiery Ice

    Some say the world will end in fire.
    That sounds nice.
    For veggies burning ever higher
    It’s best to use a roaring fire.
    Beans I hear you should fry twice
    Though why one would I would debate.
    Crispy, fully charred is nice
    And now I wait
    For fresh-burnt rice.

    Liked by 3 people

    (First line by Pablo Neruda)

    (I do not love you except because I love you)
    because if I love you, then I love that I love you ?
    Because love is what is considered
    the opposite of hate & I’d hate to deeply hate you with the hatred of hate that you can only find within what is deemed love!
    The love of hate of the hate that I love is my soul desire,such a fool for love & hate.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Taking a pot shot at the Master of Woe, Poe’s ‘The Raven.’

    The Unshaven.

    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
    After many a gin sunken I’m found slumpen ‘pon the floor
    Dryly heaving, stomach clenching, regretting my night out wenching,
    ‘Tis all quite gut-wrenching, but I’ve known of its ilk before,
    Muttered I, ‘I’ll go out and get pi- pie-eyed no more,’
    Mutedly, for my skull be ever sore.

    Ah, painfully, in a head yet tender I remember, ’twas quite the bender;
    E’en as each clang of pain in my brain rings down to its sodden core
    Uneasily recalling that I and that barfly signora put away a plethora
    Of gin, oodles of Boodles resulted in a sinful night worthy of Gomorrah,
    Now that fair maid lies sleepily sated, a beauty without flaw,
    Yet I shudder at her ev’ry snore.

    Oh, the pain- teeth gritting, hard hitting, never quitting, head splitting,
    In the mirror, pale and pallid, I see the sorriest wretch you ever saw,
    The red rimmed eyes a ‘gleaming, the mind silently screaming,
    A drunk with a liver past redeeming, ’twill need a miracle to restore,
    But I’ll drag myself back to that familiar door-
    I’ve slammed it behind me a time or two afore-
    And retake the AA Pledge once more.

    Liked by 3 people

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