At long last and after long deliberation, I have picked a winner for this week’s contest: FIFTY!
No more suspense. The winner is:
Now I’m gonna
write a poem
in exactly 50 words.
I cannot think of anything.
Hey look! Outside there’s birds!
What’s that falling from their butts?
Could it be airborne turds?
And there’s a squirrel eating nuts;
he’s grateful they aren’t curds.
Such is life in my backyard
in fifty words.
Congratulations, Susan! You are the most terrible poet of the week!
Now, you may all think Susan won for her terrible subject -but that’s not the case. I actually tend to not pick poems if they’ve made me feel ill, mostly to ensure I was not swayed by nausea. Instead, I felt that hers embodied most of what we strive for in this contest: differing line lengths, rhymes and near-rhymes and rhymes that did not fit (oh, how I hate people adding ‘poetic’ lines, just to make a rhyme!), and a subject that tried to stay on topic but just couldn’t.
Well done her, but also well done to those who barely lost. Seriously; some of you gave me the distinct impression of channeling a twisted Dr. Suess. You are all worth a read, and maybe a strong drink:
A Desperate Poet
by Heather Dawn
Forty-nine bad poems I’ve written,
For the bad poetry competition,
Forty-nine times, disappointment repetition.
I even lose at being bad,
At poetry, now that is sad.
But I am a poetic mess,
I cannot stop rhyming, I must confess!
I will win this time!
Maybe, this fiftieth time, I will!
Some say it’s pretty nifty turning fifty.
Alas! Alack! I can’t remember that far back.
I probably got socks, underpants and tie;
You see, it’s the thought that counts. Oh me! Oh my!
It remains to be seen next week when I turn seventy
If I get given a hemorrhoidectomy.
Fifty, A Study in Awfulness
Seven, a perfect number
So I’ve heard
Like Seven wonders
By Zeus’ beard!
Better than paradise, weird
But wouldn’t seven square
Be better there?
Doesn’t sound great
Like a gold mine
A football team, mate
Does adding one
To squared Perfection
Make it better
The Big – 5-0
by Deb Whittam
Lost my knack,
Can’t seem to get it back.
My age is showing,
Don’t want to do the mowing.
Need my glasses,
When I read,
Pee myself whenever I sneeze.
Can’t sit long,
Can’t stand long either,
It’s my knees you know
A Wild Ride
Half a century has passed
And now I’m all outta gas
It’s been a wild ride
Especially with you by my side
But now it’s time to die
And say my last goodbye
Cause i’m all old now
And my car is in tow
Just thought you should know,
For the fiftieth time, must I say
That you have fifty ways
Of walking down fifty street
Where fifty men dangle their meat
I mean meat not fifty inch meat
You know skewers that are sweet
Meat kebabs and puddin
Yeah that’s right darlin
Fifty shades of grey, ho hey
Fifty is nifty
Keen, cool and thrifty
Big ears and a nose to match
Pants up to my armpits
I am truly a catch
Fifty is nifty
Because I don’t care
Greying, thinning, wild-ass hair
Socks with my sandals
Baggy blue jeans
Don’t tell me what doesn’t match
The Big Five – Oh!
Latin starts with an ‘L’,
which is also how Romans spell ’50’.
That’s pretty nifty!
Ten plus ten then double it again,
then add ten for a quick, shifty 50.
They say it’s not cricket, to have lost your wicket
one run short of a hundred.
I’m lucky if i even make 50!
Only 50 Words
I started at the beginning
And missed one or two
But I’m fairly consistent
Because it’s such fun to do
Chelsea is a fiend, I mean friend
I mean she’s mean
We all try hard and I’m
Supposed to be writing
About 50 but well
That. Is. All.
I’m only 49
Nearly fifty, kinda nifty ya ask me.
Did you know
There are 50 words for snow ?
Yeah, heard that on the radio, Once
Upon a time lived an old geezer of a gent
Sniffing glue from his shoe turning a deep hue of blue
Mumbled incoherently as I awoke…
I like Blancmange but it has more than 50 calories
I have 50 really annoying allergies
I only have 50 hairs on my sad old head
Can’t get any sleep on my 50 quid bed
No money so have to be thrifty
Bugger I feel like I am over FIFTY
Don’t Look Back
by The Bag Lady
Everyone says fifty is nifty
I think it’s the “all’s downhill from now on” instead
You’ve probably met the love of your life
Handled your job with strife and stress
Married and divorced your first spouse
Cynicism rules the day
Life pushes you around
Where are dreams you were promised?
I preferred eighteen.
by Brutus Richmond
Being fifty is no fun
It’s even worse at fifty-one
And really, what is one to do
On reaching birthday fifty-two?
Goodness Gracious. Dearie Me
I’m really dreading fifty-three
Giving up. Won’t take no more
No plans of reaching fifty-four
Wont be around. Shan’t be alive
To celebrate at fifty-five
I left fifty behind years ago
Basically didn’t want to know:
Not the best year I have to say
But looking back, guess it was OK:
Lately though, everything’s changed,
Bits falling off, falling out, rearranged:
Greyer and thinner, a bald patch or two
That’s what old age can do.
You all, truly, deserve at least fifty rounds of applause. Well done. Come back tomorrow around 10 a.m. for next week’s prompt.
Abject Muse: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) for a badge of honor as the winner:
©2019 The respective authors of each poem