The A Mused Poetry Contest 11/14 – 12/11/2020

‘Tis the season for Christmas, and you know what that means: Christmas cards and newsletters. Although many opt for a family picture or online update these days, I still receive (and send) the occasional list of amazing things my family and I did all year long.

And it’s annoying. On that note:

  1. The Theme is the annoying Christmas newsletter.
  2. Although I wish these ballads were shorter, Length has to be 250 words (or, please, fewer) to reflect the true, proud writer’s desire to brag.
  3. Rhyming will happen if you choose the obligatory Night Before Christmas spinoff, but is completely optional this holiday season.
  4. These are family-friendly publications, so I’m reigning in the Rating at PGish. You know what I mean.
  5. Please, make us laugh. As we pour over yet another photo posed amidst clouds in an autumn forest and read just how many accolades the family dog earned, bring us laughter before we open the holiday egg nog early…

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next MONTH (December 11) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to remain anonymous until results are posted.

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

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Merry? Christmas!

Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

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©2020 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 11/13/2020

Friday the 13th is notoriously unlucky, a superstition held in Western cultures. Facing black cats, walking beneath ladders, or breaking a mirror; our poets bravely wrote to humor us despite a bit of bad luck.

One amongst them all rose to be the winning entry, and that was:

Oh Heck, by Hobbo
Seems like a case of bad luck to me
In agony, needs appendectomy
Flash of the blade
Incision is made
Surgeon thinks it’s a vasectomy.

Congratulations, Hobbo! You are the funniest poet for the week!

These poems were GREAT. I stifled snickers at midnight (the time I finally have to read over entries!) Hobbo’s elicited an unladylike snort; short, painfully funny, and definitely to the point.

I feel badly for all the poor luck had, but know you’ll enjoy reading the rest of the clever poems:

Thirteen Demons Sitting on the Wall, by Frank Hubeny
Lucky this or lucky that,
Luck as bad as that black cat
Cuddling, purring by my side,
Unlikely place for luck to hide.

Thirteen demons looking mean
Pretending that I haven’t seen
Them cackling when they watch me frown.
Too bored to laugh. I stare them down.

It’s not bad luck that made them fall.
They jumped like Humpty from the wall
And then they cracked. Oops. Breakfast time!
They’re lucky. That’s my final rhyme.

Lots, items, knacks, everything, by Deb Whittam
To the counter she marched
resolute, chin held high as
she looked the shopkeeper
directly in the eye.

That painting, there, the one
above the door, I’ll give
you twenty dollars,
not a penny more.

Silence met her words
but with a nod he agreed
and painting in her hand, she smirked,
there had been no need to plead.

At home she unwrapped
her highly sought after prize
only to discover on the frame
a notation that made shock arise.

twenty she had paid,
twenty she had offered,
but the tag clearly stated
clearance – just one dollar.

Riding your bad luck, by Doug Jacquier
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.

A Shaggy Cats Tale, by Obbverse
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.

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.

Untitled, by Gary
Oh no it’s Friday the thirteenth

Which is one less than fourteenth

Started the day by breaking a bedroom mirror

To find my huge tax bill just got a whole lot dearer

Then I mistakenly opened an umbrella indoors

And now my garden is full of rowdy dinosaurs

I foolishly walked under a builders ladder

And got bit on the bum by an angry adder

With a sore butt I then I stepped on a crack

Only to be attacked by a rabid wolf pack

Finally a Black Cat crossed my path

And now I’ve just fallen into the bath

Untitled, by Cupcakecache
Bad luck
needed no prescription
to find a home
next to the pug
running 3 feet from the black cat
Chasing the black cat
darting across the street
The black cat licked her lips
and as she gleefully bit into the tuna
left out
Mr. Pug
happened to escape the house
only to have the cat prance by
meowing
as if to say “Did I not eat a tasty morsel like you in another life, my 7th?”
The pug bit his lip
shrugged it up to Karma
and went off to take a walk around the hood.

I Suck at Luck, by Sara
Bought the winning ticket

Wind swept it in the thicket

Met a nice gal

She considers me a pal

Went for a run

For health and fun

Tripped two minutes in

I just can’t win

Adopted a dog

What a slob

He drooled on the couch

And ate the door

Tossed a message in the ocean

It rolled back to shore

I professed my love

To a sweetheart from school

She wrote right back

Her response, so cruel

You bullied me, she said

Made fun of my hair,

I hope your life has been filled with despair

I suck at luck

That much is true

But, as it turns out,

Karma was due

Friday the 13th Birthday, by Ruth Scribbles
‘Twas the night before Friday
When all through the house
Everyone was hiding
Yes, Even the mouse

They were all afraid
Of how she would act
When she discovered
The presents sent back

Her mommy and daddy
Cuddled up in the closet
Her siblings were hiding
And eating the chocolate

She arose from her bed,
Fuzzy was her head
“It’s my birthday!” She declared
“What a dreadful dream! How absurd!”

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Photo by David Bartus on Pexels.com

Thank you so much for the hilarious entries! Come back tomorrow for the next prompt. You’ll have a month to submit an entry!

Hobbo, here’s a badge for you to use on your site (again). Congratulations!

©2020 The poets, and their respective works

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

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

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 11/6/2020

“Are we there yet?” You might have wished you were if your vacation turned disastrous -and so wrote the poets of this week’s contest. Of all the mishaps they managed, only one passed for funniest, and that was:

Untitled, by Deb Whittam
Travelling around the countryside,
Ask the Whittams, Ask the Whittams,
Travelling around the countryside
Ask the Whittam Family.

Dear Whittam Family,
What do you do when your nut comes off, dear Whittams, dear Whittams?
What do you do when your nut comes off, dear Whittams, your nut?
Call for a tow truck, dear viewer, dear viewer?
Call for a tow truck dear viewer, a tow truck?
But I have no reception dear Whittams, dear Whittam?
But I have no reception dear Whittams, no reception at all?
In that case dear viewer, dear viewer,
In that case dear viewer, you are kind of f*****

Travelling around the countryside,
Ask the Whittams, Ask the Whittams,
Travelling around the countryside
Ask the Whittam Family.

Congratulations, Deb! You are the funniest poet for the week!

Admittedly, I had a REALLY difficult time choosing only one winner. These were hilarious, especially the ones that were true! Debbie won for a clever parody of an old favorite and for an appropriately funny cuss.

…On a side note, I actually read when this happened to poor Deb…

For a better laugh than the time these poor poets had, read on:

Untitled, by Sara
(This is a TRUE STORY! Only, it was my parents dealing with my little sister.)
There’s that smell

I can tell

She threw up, again

Will this ever end?

We pull over

To clean the car

We’re not nearly there

Our destination is far

As we scrub the floor mat

And her little car seat

Little did we know

We were in for a treat

Parked alongside a lovely, vast field

Ignorantly assuming a safe place to yield

Off our gal trotted, right into it

And here’s the ironic, “humorous?” bit

Two seconds later, we hear a sharp cry

It blew back the grass and tousled the sky

Baby girl was stuck

My, oh my

Our vomit-covered darling

Had stepped in a cow pie

Best holiday ever, by Hobbo
(Full version at Hobbo’s site)
We should never have chosen off peak
It was raining, the car sprang a leak
David squashed granny’s best hat
Baby Alfie was sick on the cat.

On the moors, dad ran over a ram
An hour later, we’re stuck in a jam
We got there too late for the ferry
Mum found the bar and got merry.

We arrived there to find we’d left gran
At the caff, with a man from Japan
Our five star was under construct
And all of the rooms double booked.

The food gave young Lucy the trots
And Christopher broke out in spots
German measles, our french doctor said
And confined him to ten days in bed.

Going home, despite begging and pleading
Dad got a ticket for speeding
When the copper told dad he could start
Our tyres were as flat as a fart.

Once home, track-traced for Covid 19
So then, yes you’ve guessed, quarantine
And because we are now isolating
This vacation gets zero star rating.

Basil and Mabel, by Geoff LePard
(You’ll have to disqualify me because it’s too many words, but I hadn’t the heart to cut back on Basil and Mabel…)
Basil and Mabel went to Spain
Again and again and again.

He drove from Dover
And to remain sober
He’d refrain, refrain, refrain.

One day on the Costa
He thought he’d lost her
The pain, the pain, the pain.

To dull the fear
He ordered sangria
Again and again and again.

Mabel was worried,
Around she hurried
The fool, the fool, the fool.

It began to concern her
When inside the taverna,
On a stool, a stool a stool

Basil was slumped.
‘Oh you old chump’
Dabbing the drool, the drool, the drool.

She left the bar
And found the car
Near the pool, the pool, the pool.

‘Where to, Bas?’
‘Let’s try La Paz’
‘It’s cool, it’s cool, it’s cool.’

They took to the road;
She drove like Toad
Too fast, too fast, too fast.

On a blind bend
Tipping end over end
They met their last, their last, their last

The moral of the fable
Of Basil and Mabel
Is you always lose
When full of booze
So try and abstain
When in Spain, in Spain, in Spain.

That Holiday Air, by Obbverse
(Certain hotels should have had their names changed to protect their guilt. But what the hell. And pushing the PG13 rating? Ah, what the hell.))
We breezed into Kingman, wafted up up to our pre-booked room,
‘Twas a romantic cute boutique newly tarted-up hideaway hotel,
Even in this modern times, foolish dreamers, do not presume
That an Arizonan night of heavenly pleasure can’t go all to hell.

The owners had been penny wise when fitting out the Brunswick,
True to its history they’d turned to every possible cheap trick,
An attempt to retain all original features, all part of the plan,
So, creaky bedsprings and no air-con except the ol’ ceiling fan.

Outside a high desert wind buffeted the shuttered window pane,
Inside, an ill wind blew no good, thanks to a lousy hotel’s buffet,
Dawn saw the leaving of two wretches that guest house won’t see again,
Now neither of us dare speak of, much less wish to repeat that sorry day.

Four gormless teenage lads on the road, by Doug Jacquier
Dora Dora has a single building
bereft of any sort of modern gilding;
pub and general store all rolled into one;
no exotic idyll baking in the sun.

Entering we see a bar
that you might see in Lilliput afar;
we become an instant crowd
eight feet sounding too loud.

Behind the bar, in a top hat,
sits a man with a newspaper and a scabby cat.
‘Corn flakes and milk?’ we enquire
‘Not in the bar, take three steps to the side.’

Groceries obtained, we ordered beers for four
and he nodded to where we’d been before.
Shuffling left, he pulled four ales,
fixing us with eyes like bloodshot snails.

Enough was enough and we re-join the track,
thinking it was never like this for Jack Kerouac.
And we realise somethin’ very disturbin’.
We’re not sub-culture, we’re just plain suburban.

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Photo by Nubia Navarro (nubikini) on Pexels.com

Thank you, thank you to all who entered! Come back at 10 a.m. tomorrow for next week’s prompt.

Deb, here’s a badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2020 The poets, and their respective works

The A Mused Poetry Contest 10/31 – 11/06/2020

Do you love to laugh out loud? Silently snicker? Guffaw as you …gallop? You’re in the right place!

Here are the rules for this week:

  1. The Theme is road-trip disasters or vacation mishaps. Did you travel all day and into the night, only to find another person in your bed? Find a flat tire midway through Nebraska? Get chased by roos in The Never-Never? Poem about it.
  2. Length: flexible. Keep the word count between 5 and 155 words.
  3. I recommend Rhyming, but it’s up to you!
  4. Arriving in a strange town where no one speaks your language and discovering you haven’t packed spare underwear is very frustrating, so the Rating can be PG-13 or cleaner.
  5. MAKE US LAUGH. Sad as you feel/felt/will feel, capture the humor in the annoyance.

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next Friday (November 6) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to remain anonymous for a week.

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

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Bon voyage!

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Photo by Nubia Navarro (nubikini) on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 10/30/2020

In honor of Halloween (sort-of), poets needed to amuse us with verses about masks! Who did so in the funniest way?

Masquerade, by Sara of Relaxitsallwrite
All I had to go on were his eyes

Hazel, hypnotic, alluring

They summoned me from across the ballroom

He had only my eyes as well

Ice-blue, and intrigued

I maneuvered my voluptuous gown through the crowd

And met him, mask to mask

While mine encompassed the beautiful butterfly I desired to be

With stunning wings, wide-spread across my cheeks

His was a bit silly, like a court jester

With speckles, peppering a long, triangular nose

I struggled to avoid it as we danced

And dance we did

Then, he tried to kiss me, but his nose got in the way

I grew frustrated

I wanted to sink into his lips, like a butterfly drinking from a tulip

So gently, I removed his disguise and leaned in

But was immediately put off

When I realized his nose was the same shape as his mask

Congratulations, Sara! You are the funniest poet for the week! I admired your rhyme, but laughed after the great buildup to a reveal no one wants upon first meeting!

Although only one could win first place, I loved the others as well:

The Masque of the Covid Death (With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe), by Trent P. McDonald
As midnight tolled the fateful hour
A new guest appeared
Amongst the revelers
Rheumy eyes
Stared from the mask
A cough shook the frame
Prospero, angry yelled
“Halt, false fellow
For we do not
Like your Covid-like mask
Who are you
To be so bold?
Show yourself!”
The guest
Dressed as the very victim of the plague
Walked from room to room
None dared bar his way
He stopped in room Seven
The room of Black and White
Prospero raised his AR-15 rifle
“Unmask yourself now!”
But when the guest turned
Prospero fell in a coughing fit
The other guests
In their madness
Tore the mask from the new guest
To their horror
An N95 was beneath
And then they knew
There was no escape
And Darkness and Decay and the Covid Death
Held illimitable dominion over all.
(OK, the last line was borrowed from Poe, about word for word 😉 )

Untitled, by DumbestBlogger
What’s behind the mask?
Stop it, not so fast!
Wait, what’s in the cask?
Poison? Poison you say?
Too bad
If only he had been more vigilant about his mask
He wouldn’t have drunk from the cask
Oh well
Time for the coroner’s task

De-masked, by Bruce
I have no idea
why you feel the need to wear
that fabric mask with style.
You’re so naturally ugly from ear to ear
that Covid19 cowers in fear
and droplets run a mile.

Night Of The Giving Dread, by Obbverse
We’re fast approaching October thirty-first
When once again good folk shall be cursed
By that gnawing feeling of impending dread
As the spirit of Gluttony raises its ugly head.

‘Twill be the night of Halloween
When every pre-adolescent ‘tween
Unbidden, comes a’rappin’ at your door,
That ain’t the kinda rap you can ignore.

They’ll demand a trick or treat,
The trick is- give ’em all they can eat,
Dole out them candies from the bowl,
Better being poor than have an empty soul.

Dish it out and don’t dare ask
What sweet child’s hiding ‘neath that mask?
Just kindly smile while putting on your happy face
A’praying the overladen urchins don’t egg your place.

Prompt at midnight, switch off the porch light-
Witching hour is done, Children Of The Night –
All pure but poor souls, sit back and enjoy the hush,
Soon ’nuff you’ll hear some kids full-on sugar ru- flush.

Untitled, by Deb Whittam
C’mon my chums, don’t be shy
Don’t you want to take a peek?
C’mon give it a try,
It could be the start,
Of your winning streak.

Five quid to look behind,
The Mask and try your luck.
Five quid for a quick glance,
C’mon fellows,
I promise you won’t barf.

It could be an angel,
Of delight and arouse your passion,
It could be a mad man,
With a very loud voice,
In need of a good thrashing.

Perhaps it’s your great Aunt,
Or, that cute girl down the street.
Perhaps it’s that annoying niece,
C’mon mates,
Don’t you want to compete?

Stand up lads,
It’s time to try your luck,
Five quid can’t be beat,
I’ll scream now when you turn green,
I promise we’ll have time to duck.

Time to be scared, by Gary
So many years and so many Halloween’s

Desperately trying to create a scary smokescreen

Always searching for the perfect Mask

The truly frightening one which is up to the task

I’ve tried them all but they end of just being lame

Freddy Kruger was just do ridiculously tame

Dracula and Frankenstein were as scary as the lovely Joan Hickson

Jason and Michael masks made me look like the unlovely Richard Nixon

But now I’ve seen the path to the perfect scary look

Maybe I should don a Chefs hat and carry a cookbook

Maybe I should dig out my old French Can-Can costume

Maybe a morning mirror photo of me from the bathroom

Actually there is a much simpler way for me to truly scare

Me just going unmasked is the perfect psychological warfare.

What’s behind the mask?, by sudrakarma
What’s behind the mask?
You might well ask,
but as well you might not want to know.

For I have as many
as needed, nigh twenty
to choose from to wear
for the daily show

But if you dare look beneath
that care-crafted sheath
to what’s hidden
deep, down below

You may fear what you find:
Though my smile is kind,
danger lurks in my Shadow

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Photo by Ariza Chrisananda on Pexels.com

A great BIG thanks to all those who entered! Come back around tomorrow at 10 a.m. for next week’s prompt.

Sara, here’s a badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2020 The poets, and their respective works

The A Mused Poetry Contest 10/24 – 10/30/2020

It’s the week before Halloween here in the United States! Let’s look to amuse with some boo’s!

Here are the spooky specifics:

  1. Our Theme is What’s behind the mask? Did two socially-distanced first-daters face a nasty surprise? Perhaps the Phantom of the Opera revealed an embarrassing birthmark? You decide, and you write a poem about it!
  2. Keep the Length manageable, at between 3 and 153 words.
  3. Rhyme if your crystal ball tells you to, but don’t if it’s not in the cards.
  4. There’s no need for tricks regarding Rating. You can scare your victims readers and keep things clean.
  5. However you choose to cast your spell, my dear, ensure your Halloween brew is brimming with humor.

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next Friday (October 30) to submit a poem.

Use the magic form, below, to remain anonymous for a week.

Otherwise, include your spellbook poem or a link to it in the comments. Drop a comment or conjuring crystal if your link-back doesn’t show up by midnight of when you cast it.

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Happy haunting!

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Photo by Ariza Chrisananda on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 10/23/2020

Phew! What a challenge! This week, poets needed to compose a diamante about a diamond-seeker; a swindler; a gold-digger. When I wrote up the prompt, I didn’t consider how DIFFICULT answering it might be. So, understandably, these entries were more clever and interesting than they were humorous.

But, the winner is:

Untitled, by Teleportingweena
gold
shiny rich
dig find shout
pan stream nugget money
hop skip jump
heavy metal
miner

Congratulations, Weena! You are the funniest poet for the week! I found this poem so entertaining because you answered the prompt literally. Very funny idea.

You’d do yourself a disservice to not read all the fabulous entries. Here they are:

Untitled, by Richmond Road
Morning
Soft Sweet
Waking Shaking Beginning
Birds Bees Flowers Trees
Breathtaking Remaking Forgiving
Victorious Glorious
Day

Untitled, by Ruth Blogs Here
User
Needy, greedy
Desires, conspires, covets
Meal-ticket gold-digger
Pretends, discards, repeats
Serially, imperiously
Fake

The greedy gold-digger, by Hobbo
woman
calculating, opportunistic
searches, researches, discovers
partner, mansion, yacht, diamonds
tricked, duped, imprisoned
handsome, undercover
cop

Untitled, by D. Wallace Peach
Youth
Luxurious addictive
Fawning fooling pleasing
Days week years boredom
Reconsidered discarded replaced
Younger other
Woman

Untitled, by D. Wallace Peach
Diamonds
Brilliant dangling
Tantalize beguile enthrall
Avarice dreams luxury ease
entrapped hooked convinced
blinding, devious
paste

Untitled, by D. Wallace Peach
Dwarves
Bearded snoring
Picking shoveling boring
White laundry stitch seams
Cooks cleans dreams
Sweet deadly
Liberty

Untitled, by Willowdot
Thomas
Lythe, handsome
Pleasing, flattering, dancing
Money, diamonds, bedroom, cars.
Coaxing, grabbing, ageing
Arthritic, Madame.

Untitled, by Deb Whittam
Freedom
Dazzling, Ambitious
Cunning, Conniving, Calculating
Locks open, Doors close
Seizing, Capturing, Arresting
Helpless, Defeated
Imprisonment

Untitled, by The Bag Lady
Slick
Sneaky smooth
Dancing, prancing, prowling
Man, prince, knight, nobleman
Entice, envelop, engage
Active, alluring
Playboy

Untitled, by Teleportingweena
Janie
Flashy Schemer
Flirt Swish Smooch
Shoes Jewels Clothes Money
Twirl Smile Wink
Coquettish Digger
Gold

Everyone Owes Them?, by Larry Trasciatti
Victims
Entitled Deceptive
Blaming Expecting Resenting
Sheep Sheepdog Wolf Poison
Crying Brainwashing Rewriting Terrorizing
Insatiable Obsessed
Unhappiness

Untitled, by LSS Attitude of Gratitude
Gold-digger
Sultry, Fake
Lying, Cheating, Scheming
Seductress, Jezebel, , Partner, Confidant
Caring, Loving, Holding
Honest, Charming
Soulmate

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Photo by emre keshavarz on Pexels.com

Thanks for playing!! Return tomorrow for next week’s prompt.

TPWeena, here’s a badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2020 The poets, and their respective works

The A Mused Poetry Contest 10/17 – 10/23/2020

Welcome, one and all, to the A Mused Poetry Contest! Come, tickle your funny bone or leave us in stitches!

Here are the instructions for this week:

  1. The Theme is a Diamante poem about gold-diggers. Get it? Diamante is like diamonds? …Tell me you got it.
  2. I just learned about this poetic form from snooping around Ruth’s blog. Apparently, it’s a very easy, straightforward poem of sixteen words. You can write a synonym diamante or an antonym diamante. The words form a diamond, in the pattern of:

Noun
Adjective, Adjective
Verb, Verb, Verb
Noun, Noun, Noun, Noun
Verb, Verb, Verb
Adjective, Adjective
Noun

  1. This form does not Rhyme, but you can if you really, really want to.
  2. Keep the Rating PG or cleaner. I mean, why not?
  3. However you form it, make us laugh. Make us feel for the gold-digger, for his/her target, or for the gold that was dug.

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next Friday (October 23) to submit a poem.

Use the form below to stay anonymous for a week.

Otherwise, for a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Drop a comment if you try to link back and it doesn’t show up within a day.

—–

Indulge yourselves!

Photo by emre keshavarz on Pexels.com. Never trust the man bun.

—–

©2020 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 10/16/2020

Ah, the classic comeuppance due to the deserving braggart; the fall after the pride; the karma to one’s hubris -this was the theme for this week’s amusing writers.

Only one rose above the rest to claim the dubious honor of funniest, and that was:

Untitled, by D. Wallace Peach
When the fireworks failed to ignite
The smoker asked for a light
With a big inhale
The swaggering male
Set off to light up the night

He applied his cig without care
Smug when the fuse caught and flared
An arrogant rube
He peered down the tube
And the night lit up with his hair

Congratulations, D. Wallace! You are the funniest poet for the week! I would be outright lying if I didn’t say that several of these poems made me laugh out loud. The illustrious Madame Peach’s poem won for her hilarious imagery, excellent vocabulary, and humorous take on the prompt.

I really did enjoy all of these. I hope you do as well:

Untitled, by Frank Hubeny
While waiting to win the award
I got tired. The judges got bored.
They forgot to choose me.
Did they look? Did they see?
Well, they looked, then I looked how I scored.

Untitled, by Deb Whittam
Debbie went for a run
She boasted that it was fun
But she didn’t expect to slip on a bun
And pull a ligament in her bum

Untitled, by Trent McDonald
Stan sniffed as people froze in fear
And strode right by, nose in the air
His haughtiness so keen
That the dragon wasn’t seen
So he walked straight into the lair

Untitled, by Trent McDonald
Bob laughed at the custodian, Jed
Because of the things that he said
“Be careful in the mill
For those machines can kill!”
Not listening, Bob lost his head

Untitled, by Dumbestblogger
At carnivals the rides are fine
But games are really quite sublime
Fred sent the ball full eight feet high
Joe laughed and said “I’ll make it nine!”
He picked the hammer up with glee
Missed the lever, hit his spleen
He aimed to send the ball up nine
Now six feet under Joe does lie

A Slight Misunderstanding, by Writerinretrospect
“I’m sure we can survive it,”
Said the vampire to his friend;
“Oh, no,” the friend replied,
“I’d rather stay undead.”
“It’s not that far,”
Came the reply,
“There’s no reason to quake.”
And so across the street the dyslexic went
To find himself a steak.

Route One, by Obbverse
He finally staggered triumphantly atop Mount Everest
Exhausted but immensely proud of his sky high climb,
Standing back to take in the view and a moments rest
He went from pinnacle to Ground Zero in record time.

Billy, by Hobbo
Billy bighead, a bit of a boaster
Invented the world’s largest toaster
One day he fell in it
And in less than a minute
His head was as flat as a coaster.

An Untitled (for reasons unknown) Limerick, by Michael Fishman
This handsome young man was in love,
well not totally, but kinda sort of.
He kneeled down to propose,
something tickled his nose,
and he blew boogers on her from below and above.

—–

Thanks for playing!! Return tomorrow for next week’s prompt.

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©2020 The poets, and their respective works