What’s cheesier than a Vermont Cheddar? This month’s terrible poetry contest, of course! Matt, last time’s winner, suggested we write a limerick about the dairy product in question, and here are the winners:
Vermont Cheddar Cheese was such a sleaze Wheezed, seized, breezed, he’s enough to make one weak at the knees Eyeing him disdainfully did nothing to ease The fears his presence could not appease Here, grab the skis and the keys, I’ll disappear into the trees.
He was a good old egg who liked to gamble, He never stopped talking, oh how he rambled. One nasty night he lost his shirt. He got drunk. He fell in the dirt. Now he’s a good old egg Who’s somewhat broken and completely scrambled.
—–
Congratulations, DA and seahorsecoffeeelektra79018! You are the most terrible poets this month! We’re taking a summer sabbatical until September; but you’re both welcome to tell me a theme and form for next time, in the comments.
For the record, I’m going to sound like a broken record: all contestants did TERRIBLY. (I mean, that is the point of the contest, right?) I read over all the poems, snickered, read them again, snickered again, then could NOT decide who to crown as victor. DA and shce#’s contributions won by a hair -and, I realized, the same level of hair. I loved DA’s incessant rhyming and broken form; I loved sea’s broken form and mostly-rhyme. Plus, as was with all the submissions, they were terrible.
What a way to end (for now) on a high note! Enjoy reading:
I pondered on this tasteless topic blankly… Because Vermont Cheddar stinks, and rankly, There is the ripe question Of long lingering indigestion, I’d rather Brie or Philadelphia, frankly.
There once was a cheesy old cheddar who never got under the weather. (pronounce this “wedder”) Vermont Cheddar’s the name of long-standing good fame since tomorrow it tastes even better. (pronounce this “bedder”)
There once was a brave little cheddar Who thought it was oh so much better Than gouda or brie Then it started to sneeze For tickled it was with a feather
Her breath smelled like Vermont cheddar cheese, so when she said, “Boy, won’t you come kiss me please.” I just squeezed shut my sniffer and dreamed of Aniston, you know, Jennifer, and gave her lips a soft gentle squeeze.
I’ve decided to give up cheese especially Vermont Cheddar cheese Why? What do you know about life? Isn’t it full of strife? I hate you Vermont Cheddar Cheese.
—–
A Stupid and Completely Fictious Story About Cheese, Jews, and Halachic Process
There once was a new kind of cheese Where the protein was made out of peas. The rabbis said, “No way!? (whey?) Is this really okay?!? To decide, we must use our rabbinic degrees.”
But the rabbis disliked intellectual work, So they banned it, like they did Impossible Pork. “We think banning is better – Besides, this tastes like Vermont Cheddar, And we prefer cheeses made in New York.”
Then came Shavuot holiday Chief rabbi ate dairy all night and all day. He produced so much gas And hot air from his ass, The chief rabbi up and floated away!
The rabbis said, “As much as we do not want, To admit our Head Rabbi was intolerant Of milk, lactose, and whey, Guess we’ll say it’s ok To eat that weird vegan cheese from Vermont!”
From Vermont came a cheddar, behold Legend has it, one heck of a mold Big cheese curd not forstall The coming Woodchuck brawl. For a chance to taste Green Mountain gold.
—–
Thank you, terrible poets. Maybe come back in September to see what the next prompt is!
Deb and seahorse: Here’s your slightly-inaccurate badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:
Hello, there. Welcome to the Terrible Poetry Contest for May, 2023. This will be the last contest before the host (presumably) resumes operations in September.
Haven’t heard about our esteemed ‘competition’ before? Read this post. We’re out to make-fun, but also have fun!
M won March’s contest. Here are the parameters he named for this month:
Theme and Form Rest easy, guys. We’re doing a limerick about Vermont Cheddar Cheese. We’ve done limericks before, many times. A description of the form can be found at this link.
Length Unlike cheddar, a limerick doesn’t take long. It’s five lines in anapestic trimeter.
Rhyme? Cheese with ease, and rhyme the lines of AABBA this time.
Terrible? Aging is an art, one applied best to solid dairy products one spreads on crackers. Terrible poetry, not so much. Make yours as tasteless as you’d like.
Rating M didn’t say one, but I’m guessing he’s fine with anything. Anything, you hear? It is a limerick, after all…
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST on Thursday, May 25 to submit a poem.
Use the form below if you want to be anonymous until I post the results. The form hasn’t saved what you submitted unless you see a message saying it has.
Or, for a cheesier 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 pick of next contest’s theme and form.
Either we’re all feeling especially creative, or we’re all stuck inside our toilet paper forts with too much time on our hands. Not that I’m complaining, but this week’s judging took longer than usual because I received so many entries!
Which doesn’t mean there isn’t a winner. This week, it’s:
They panicked the public with talk of the virus
The butcher was worried – his name was Cyrus
One night, when the store closed
He took all the bog rolls
Went home and confessed to a scroll of papyrus. A scroll of papyrus that he used as his journal and sometimes hid in the linen closet – on the top shelf under a bunch of pillow cases, unless he was keeping it under the bed, or in the garage; but then the police found it and he was arrested, went to court and got sent to jail… not for very long though (it was only toilet paper, after all)
bread, butter,
don’t care about the clutter
egg, cheese
oh, thank god a sneeze
I don’t want that terrible, low mortality, not as bad as the flu which has a vaccine and still kills more people but does not invoke stupidity, panic buying and food hoarding, disease
Congratulations, Tnkerr and Deb! You are the most terrible poets of the week!
These two won for their trick of expanding out that last line to terrible proportions, after poeming so spot-on and terribly about hoarding. They (and a couple others) stood out for using this element to make their contributions worse, particularly since everyone’s poems are so terrible this week they are quite good!
While some are hoarding by the ton,
Others find no way to wipe their bum.
Trauma horrifying!
Dirty bottoms multiplying!
Someone please, help me find some!!
Hours before Armageddon
Down shopping aisles carefully treadin’
Just fillin’ my trolly
Promotin’ the folly
It’s not tears, it’s just fears that I’m spreadin’
We’re stuck in quarantine for a fortnight,
Our essential supplies are running light,
‘Nuff food and water ain’t our issue,
We failed to stock a pile of toilet tissue;
We’ve gone from sittin’ pretty to sittin’ tight.
There once was a store by the lee
That was fully stocked for everyone’s needs.
It had boondaggles, hoozits and comic sans font;
It had everything a lad or lass could possibly want!
But alas, it had one failing short: no toliet paper, so I’ll use me shirt.
“It is the end of the world”, someone chokes; there is a lull.
Stockpiling food for twenty years and toilet paper rolls,
But we’re all out—what do we do
Go out to Walmart, brawl with others like a zoo;
Then leave empty handed—outside, someone is selling them one hundred dollars per half roll!
There’s a man in DC called The Pres
He t-wee-ts, he pooh-poohs, and he says
It’s all something minor
Like everything from China
A few less old folk, who cares?
There are empty shelves down at the store
idiots crashing their carts by the door
I would have been late
till I pulled out the 38
now there’s great stocks of bodies on their floor
I’m getting a few extra things in
lots of meat and beans if they’re tinned
it was quite busy down there
until I coughed in the air
and the crowds miraculously thinned
I’ve got my mask on so I’ll be OK,
got my sanitiser and various sprays
got my loo roll and lentils
and ammo to shoot mentals
should be alright for a couple of days
With a P-51 and a stash of old food,
One can hold out in style, lighten the mood.
But you’ll still feel alone
With no one to bone,
So be sure to bring tissues and lube.
‘It’s a risk,’ said the serial hoarder,
‘And I might cause civil disorder,
Buy buying up Frosties,
And making you crossties,
So maybe I’ll stick to cornflakes.’
Or
To hoard takes three things: there’s pluck
And a significant dollop of luck,
But between me and you
On top of those two
Is you really must not give a fig (other soft fruits are available until some silly sod has bought them all)
A man in a fit of elation
Stockpiled like the rest of the nation
Well, bog roll he had
But it left him quite sad
When all the pasta gave him constipation!
There was a a wee lass from Madrass
Who needed paper to wipe up her ass.
She looked in a shop ran around the block
Finally settled on her grandpappies sock.
Boom boom.
Shelves stripped bare including the Gluten free
Load your boot with every single last frozen pea
You can keep your 10 year supply of toilet roll
Fill your trolley with all the Chicken casserole
But keep your pigging hands off my Yorkshire Tea
To avoid all the germs in the store
Gladys ate a bluebird and a boar
She washed down that pig
With an isolated swig
That socially infected her snout with a stout.
***PG-13 Warning.***
Traffic was so light yesterday
Officer Joe met his mistress to play
But his wife had a fever
And before he could leave her
He’d slipped his virus in her beaver.
—–
Thank you so much for brightening my week. I trust you had as much fun writing as I did reading. Come back tomorrow for next week’s prompt; we’ve got a potentially long road yet of more internet time together.
Tnkerr and Deb: Here’s a badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:
Hi. This is the part where I say, “Hi,” and mention that this is our 63rd time around the terrible poetry track.
Here is where I give some directions. I still like our mishmash of sources contest, à la Ern Malley, for a way to create terribly as well. Really, the trick is to write like you’ve never been taught how to do poetry.
Here are the specifics for this week:
Topic: Stockpiling against a worldwide disaster, in limerick form.
Length: A limerick. They’re five lines: AABBA, in anapestic meter.
Rhyming: Yes. In AABBA anapestic meter format.
Make it terrible! Got it? Make it terrible!! The world’s ending, after all!
Rating: PG-13. This is the perfect time to panic …poetically.
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (March 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 comment if your pingback link doesn’t show up within a day.
Now’s the perfect time for levity. Give it a whirl.
There once was a dino named Ptery
Who loved to eat tree stars and berries.
Then, out of the blue,
Ptery saw rocks that flew;
Now, Ptery is becoming an evolutionary.
Chel Owens 