What is life but a descent to death
punctuated by philosophies
upset by opinion
and only sllooowwwwedddddd by a stubborn child
or the DMV
or that breathless moment before
death
when you wish you’d lived
a little more
©2022 Chel Owens
Oft I venture
down
The road but
then there’s some idiot
On her phone
Oh.
thats a him
I think
who Cares the point
is
That person’s putting on makeup and drifting and just picked up a cell phone and then cut off a semi
and
Honked
at
all of
us.
And I’m supposed to be the stereotypical bad driver
On acc
ount of being
a woman
and Utahrn.
©2022 Chel Owens
Ah. Terrible Poetry is always so cathartic.
I held time today.
It felt all sifty, like new-cast snow
yet
parts of it were not.
…Like clay.
-or gravy-
Yes! Time is gravy, I decided, as I rubbed its siftiness between my hands and tried to keep it
-grasp it-
-STOP IT!-
It both thickened and dissolved
leaving behind half-finished projects
…well-meant regrets.
I held time today, and wished for mashed potatoes.
©2021 Chel Owens
We, all of us, are dying
but only some are dying
What is the step between
this life
and the next
Is it like a step or a
misstep
into darkness
Or, is it many steps of a journey toward LIGHT
Or is it
blissful
nothing
while those left behind hold your empty hand and shout your name
–in an echoed space–
and young children stand alone on the landing from whence you stepped, confusion fear loss fear hope fear sadness fear pain fear fear fear
in each
tiny
tear
We, all of us, are dying
but only some are dying
What is the step between
this life
and the next
and why do we not install a railing?
©2021 Chel Owens
At long last, we long for the last winner of the Terrible Poetry Contest.
That winner is:
Parting is such sweet sorrow
I wished to keep you
Till the morrow
But I ate what you held
My hunger
Now is quelled
So you have no use
And I dare not set
You loose
For you’ll end up in a tree
Or worse yet
In the sea
You might kill a turtle or a fish
Or bird might think
You’re a tasty dish
I will mourn you gone, it’s true
I really, really
Really wanted to keep you
But the problem is, by far
I ate your innards
The candy bar
And since your fabric I tore
(My self-restraint went out the door)
I have no use for you
Any more
—–
Congratulations, Trent! You are the most terrible poet of the week!
I chose Trent’s poem after narrowing entries down to three or four that followed the prompt and made me cringe. After reading through those, his won for its awful reminders of the free-verse poems that just quite don’t make poetic sense.
Thank you for all the laments and well-wishes. You are lovely people and clever terrible poets.
by Nitin
Oh Cap’n! My Cap’n
Must we say goodbye?
Just a year after we said hi?
Oh Cap’n! My Cap’n
This game gave me intellectual game
Makin me smart and stuff, ya know
But now, to whom shall my game I show
Things will never be the same
Good times we did share
Of laughs and more laughter
They made me merry and smarter
Friends did hug and care
But alas, ‘tis time to sit on the rafter
And say, “Oh Cap’n, ‘tis an end to chatter.”
*Sad violins play in the distance while the sky turns crimson, and motes of dust circle the bed. It’s lonely here on the rafter*
—–
Maybe we’ll meet again some sunny day
Hey hey
You never know your luck
Till then
Goodbye
So long
I must mosey along
—–
by Heather Dawn
Oh the heartbreak that is inside my heart
A song of mourning as we part…
Mourning all the better things,
The things that life used to bring(s)…
Fare thee well!
My good memories of times meeting with friends and family and people, in groups larger than ten.
Fare thee well!
Also to soap and cleaners…
Oh how I smell!
Also farewell to buses, and haircuts and my favorite pair of pants which now fits far too snug. (Because of all the food I’ve eaten).
Fare thee well. To the hug. (Which I never loved in the first place, but now I think I could face)
Fare thee well to the world I once knew,
The one where we could find wipes by the loo,
Where shoppers could walk two by two,
Where kids could go to and from the zoo,
The one that didn’t feel quite as blue,
And I didn’t have to eat roadkill stew,
Or have to speak two meters away from you,
Wow lots of words to rhyme with “ooo”!!!
And fare thee well to a contest I never did win,
For poetry terribleness was not within,
But I give thee one last try,
Before I have to say good bye.
And on and on and on life goes
Ever changing, keeping me on my toes….
Fare thee well, to really bad poems.
—–
by Ian Kay
Tai Kwon Doo
Doobie-doobie-do
Bye TFWTPC
Deedle-deedle-dee
The fat lady sings
Fa-fa-fa-le-la-la-oomph!
Who brought an opera singer
to the martial arts?
do-do-do-dah-do
call an ambulance
(but nothing rhymes with ambulance)
well then call a dentist
(you’re not making this easy)
how about an MD?
tweedle-deedle-dee.
—–
by Matt Snyder
that time i fell
scraped my knee
cut my finger deep
using that damn peeler
when i tripped on the edge of the pool
tore off my toenail
you were there
love you BAND-AID hate to see you go
the brown crusty blood remnants that covered up my woes
BAND-AID come in every size, even covered that boil on my thigh
love you BAND-AID for all you have done
sure beats that time i used some ABC gum
—–
by Tiredhamster
Sad shell of lesser metal,
you once had something vital,
an elixir envied by the sweetness
gods, tinged with carbonated bliss.
Orange-like flavors once wrapped my tongue,
but now, your delicious tune has been sung.
I sit here now, in silent dejection, with your tiny skeleton,
carved by emptiness, a misshapened tin.
Now, it is time, that I cast your being into a bin
where all things disappear. It should be a sin,
but you’ve lived-out your usefulness,
I can’t say the same for the rest.
I will always cherish this warm night,
but the hour is turning into light
where thirst thrives. Don’t fret,
your memory has placed a net
across my acidified canines,
where a corrosion opines
deeper than love’s design.
—–
Farewell! Thou art too ripe for my whiffing,
And alas alas, thou can’t thyself sniffing,
The perfume of thy boudoir gives little easing;
When my love for thee is nose deceasing.
And of that odor, why am I deserving?
Your fair halitosis has left me unnerving,
And so my face turned away is breathing.
Tell me, how do I hold thee while wheezing
Thou gavest thy kiss with exhaling and blowing,
Oh me, my mistaking, I must be going;
—–
Bring a ring o’ poeters,
A pocket full of poseurs,
A tissue (of terribility) at issue
And we all fell down.
A bunch of us numpties, with almighty gall,
Us proletarian-lumpy had a great fail
All Chelsea’s exhortations to fracture our pens
Ended in the dumpster time and again.
But the fighter inside ‘er will eventually out
Back will come her brain and give the spiders
Gout from the sun-dried tomatoes that on her pizza reign,
And, Owen to her zeitgeist, she’ll re-rack us once again.
—–
by Jon
Whatever will I do?
Without a forum for,
Terrible verse that wells up
Within and must get out
’cause its too awful to keep
—–
Alas, poor poems, I knew them well
Perhaps a few belonged in hell
Far too many made angels LOL
When people tried to be bad, and very short fell…
—–
Look how ye curl
Above the water’s surface
You big, sassy turd, source of my pride.
Rare is the whorl
Which rises enough to lance
Through soft, golden expanse, brave height.
But now, brown pearl,
I must take the flushing stance
And send you away, unforgotten but affright.
Thou doth swirl
In a porcelain water-dance
Amidst ribbons and twills of white.
Gone! Flushed, hurled!
My mind is blown, in a trance,
That I couldn’t share your largess and might.
The joy of my innards
When you escaped by chance
During a bowel movement after midnight!
I’ll never unfurl
Our secret toilet stance
That created you, the biggest turd of my life.
—–
Holy moly chicken man
All I want is a grand
I will be your friend for a long time
Until of course, I lose my mind
♥♥♥
Oh my goodness
Oh my gosh
I would love some mackintosh
As I’m as hungry as a bear
Look at my cute underwear
♥♥♥
There is a moose upon my roof
Trying to catch a silly goose
There’s a dog in the tree
He’s laughing, he’s full of glee
There’s a mouse chasing a cat
I’m going to get you, you dirty rat
♥♥♥
Look and you will find
All of those you have left behind
Dust bunnies under the chair
Mixed all in with the dog’s hair
You think I don’t care? Beware.
♥♥♥
You are a silly goat
I think you’ve lost my rope
I’m such a dope
I don’t know how to cope
Without my rope
Nope
♥♥♥
Before I go there’s one more thing
I really wish that I could sing
I for one will miss your contests
A weekly terrible but the best
It was fun
I wish that I’d been here when it begun
Is there anything we could do
So many of us are feeling blue
Please change your mind
and keep it going
If you do we’ll all be glowing
—–
Oh, Woe is me, Alas and Alack
Oh how I wish I could have my hair back
Now my poor head is shiny and bald
My comb is redundant, my crown feels the cold
It’s the one thing for which I would pray, steal or beg,
If I could no longer be as bald as an egg.
—–
by Tnkerr
Ever been too high?
no? Neither have I
I once took a header
through a rabbit hole though.
I met no queens, I met no hatters
nor albino bunnies, if that even matters.
At a long wooden table, all set for tea
was a dapper transvestite, looking at me.
He peered through specs, with really thick glass
in disbelief he glanced askance.
He, you see; was impeccably dressed
I on the other hand looked quite the mess
I didn’t smoke hookahs, saw no smiling cats,
but I saw something almost as int’resting as that.
At dawn there were birds and two fat boys;
with a friendly sensei.
who spoke at me – to my surprise;
taught me to use mushrooms, for controlling my size.
When I woke, I had a knot on my head
I felt horrible, wished I was dead
I recalled a walrus named Paul, a carpenter too
I remember the face of a singer named Grace.
Ever been too high?
no? Neither have I.
—–
Chelsea says: Remember everything I taught cha
Even though it’s torture.
Cha cha cha.
She’ll tell you how to write a terrible poem
Even if you’re a gnome.
Cha cha cha.
We’ve had a lot of fun along the way,
With Chelsea giving her decision every Friday.
Cha cha cha.
Over the year I’ve tried to make every poem suck
But sometimes I find it well-nigh impossible to be dreadful. Like now.
Cha cha cha.
You made us dance our way in and dance out way out.
I don’t have a clue what this poem’s about?
Cha cha cha.
So thank you Chelsea, farewell to the terrible,
I’m doing my best to make this poem absolutely horrible.
Cha cha cha.
Cha cha cha.
Cha cha cha.
SPLAT!
—–
by Obbverse
All my giddy plans for more overseas travel
Have begun to chafe and fray and unravel,
It’s a quiet cruisy life here in the South Pacific
Where sometimes ‘quiet’ borders on the soporific.
When you’re stuck down in the Shaky Isles
A month of lonely lockdown has its trials,
Here, we’re so far from the madding crowd,
Here, straying from our bubble is not allowed.
Netflix only goes so far in breaking the tedium
And I’ve wearied of the always Right medium
So I tuned out news of the ever-present Covid,
Turned off the big screen and gone off the grid.
But then my trusty Hewlett-Packard packed up
And how quickly my un-spammed mail backed up,
Now its a lonely planet to be stuck in on my own
And I’m slowly losing friends thanks to a fading i-phone.
So I found it timely to clean out the e-mails-
Those casual offers to meet consenting females-
One-off deals guaranteed to double your income-
Offers to collect a share of a Nigerian’s Princely sum.
So I trawled my way manfully through my spam,
I deleted every charitable plea and cheap scam,
Finally the the excremental electronic dumping was done,
Then came my first message… would it be a welcome one?
Qantas called, said my frequent flier miles, set to expire
Could be honorably exchanged, should I so desire
For a once in a lifetime trip on a luxury cruise ship-
I deleted THAT with one indignant finger flip.
—–
by Bryntin
there are some things
that I’m not sad to see go
like mrs bryntin’s habit
of chewing tobacco
or that odd pair
of novelty slippers
gifted last christmas
(they’re in the shape of some kippers)
or that strange pen
with invisible ink
can’t see what I wrote
so no chance to rethink
got shot of that cat
some pet that wasn’t ours
shat in the borders
now pushing up flowers
goodbye excruciating couplets
deliberately lacking rhythm
and purposefully lacking
sophisticated symbolism
goodbye terrible poetry contest
a shame it won’t be there
but my best wishes go to chelsea
and the family in her care
—–
by Gary
Oh Boris isn’t it time you went away
Surely it’s time for another holiday
Its only a few months since your last Caribbean jolly
How you must miss drinking all that expensive bolly
Your country is deep in crisis and finds itself in such a terrible mess
So many mistakes and lapses of judgement, yet you find it impossible to confess
It’s always someone else’s fault and never your own
You haven’t managed this pandemic preferring to blame the Eurozone
You don’t listen to reason, facts are just ignored
But you do listen to Cummings, Britains very own evil Sith Lord
You only had one aim and that was hard Brexit
Your getting your way leaving us deep in the shit
Because of your privileged upbringing you are entitled to rule
You lead by example, bluffing and acting the fool
You like all the trappings which goes with being the top man
Sadly hard work and emergency meetings is not part of your plan
So for the good of your country please take your leave
Go back to your mansion, don’t worry we won’t grieve
So I long for the day when you pack your bags and wish No10 a fond farewell
Go back to your lovely life, do nothing and watch your bank account swell.
—–
Scratching and clawing
With nails of a macaw 🦜
Mama said–these nails must GO!
Toddler went running around to and fro
Screaming like a me–me was out
To get him good
His fingers would be maimed
Shorn in pieces
How would he protect himself
From the wild wild feme-ale
Mom caught him and dragged him
Into the bathroom and chained him
The house echoed with screams
As she engaged in the operation
Mama removed the offending weapons
Right into the toilet
Round and round they went
Goodbye whimpered the boy-let
My talons are gone!
—–
A quiet stage, dark and dusty
Velvet backdrops, rusted tin cans
Buzzing of flies, folded gloves
Last week’s newspaper, all wrong.
And then a swine in hooves and a tux
meanders out to center stage and breathes in a huff:
“Ba-dee, ba-dee, That’s all, Folks!”
—–
by Fishman
The Terrible Poetry Contest is done.
And now life has no fun.
No, I’m only joking,
although my voice is kind of choking.
And even though this news has left me feeling a little blue,
I’m a better Terrible Poet because of you.
I hope everything with you is OK,
and that you just need to step away.
Thank you, Chelsea Ann.
From, Michael Fishman
—–
Yes, I will miss you
So badly..!
I still remember the day
I bought you, so rosy and pretty
It felt terrible to ruin your virginity
By brushing my yellow teeth..!
Your predecessors lasted just a month..
Yet, I had you for over four months..!
Till you looked as bald as an oldie..!
Though, I bought another
I kept you inside my brush holder
Was happy to watch you every morning and night
But nothing lasts forever
And it’s time for you to leave..!
As I found to my dismay,
My two year old grabbing and chewing you today.!
How dare he..!? You belongs to me only..!
With a heavy heart, am throwing you in the trash bin..
But am quite positive,
That your tooth brushy soul will find a way back..
Through the next brush, you will buy..!!
—–
Thank you all so very very very very very berry very much! Parting from bad poetry is such sweet, satisfying sorrow.
Come back ’round here tomorrow to see what the new weekly contest will be.
Photo by Wendy Wei on Pexels.com
Trent: Here’s a badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:
©2020 The poets, and their respective poems.
One day, after reading newbies’ usual attempts at poetry and also feeling bored out of my mind at a son’s Tae Kwon Do training, I introduced the Terrible Poetry Contest.
This will be hilarious, I thought, And so easy. Too many writers churn out cliché sonnets and frenetic free-verse, so entrants will love it. As a bonus, I’ll be able to demonstrate what not to do in a funny way!
Despite my confidence, I realized the need for a follow-up explanation right after. Despite that, I routinely reminded contestants to tone down the talent. Despite all that, many contests produced FANTASTIC and clever results.
You’ve been wonderful. You’ve been terrible. I’ve loved it all. Thank you.
With happy memories and enough bad poetry to keep us giggling, I’ve decided ’tis time to discontinue. This week is the last terrible poetry contest of them all, nearly a year and a half after we began.
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (May 1) 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.
Have fun. Seriously. And tell your friends. Let’s go out with a parade!
Photo by Wendy Wei on Pexels.com
I thought you
were
but
Ramen. and MSG, of course
but
then
i
saw
you didn’t have MSG
after i tasted you, you aren’t coarse,
So, my
Tangled Mass oF dreams
Sunlight steaming, through crying raindrops
against
my
sink
course
And tears
I put you down the drain
with the eggs and fridge stuff that stunk
alas, why do I throw away what I love??
and then I ground you up
Poetically
Of course
©2020 Chelsea Owens
Congratulations, entrants. These were awful. You didn’t come around to hear only that, however; you came to learn of the winner.
And that is:
by Obbverse
I saw her here
I saw her there,
It would appear
I saw her everywhere.
In the school bus
I sat and stared,
I dreamed of us
As if she cared.
In my fevered mind
I looked suave and cool,
She seemed obstinately blind,
Friends said, kind of cruel.
Then, as we passed by
A look, though fleeting
Registered in her eye-
Two pupils meeting.
So it came to pass
With one come-hither glance
That Delilah of a lass
Led this fool a merry glance.
She had her fun
At my sad expense,
Fair heart I’d not won-
Her warm heart a pretense.
She left me distraught
That devils daughter,
Without a second thought
Wrenched at my aorta.
My teen dreams shattered,
Much like my pride,
Left bowed and battered-
Something deep inside me died.
Now I’ve a busted heart,
Broken in twain
The only good bloody part-
It won’t break ever again
Congratulations, Obbverse! You are the most terrible poet of the week!
Once again; you, our poets, are TOO GOOD for such a contest. Too clever. Too metered. *sigh* Obbverse won for his poem being terrible (of course) but also reminding me of many novice poets who are not attempting bad poetry and are sincere…
So, well done! As to the rest of you, try harder(?):
I wish to tell you about my favourite thing,
With a hey-nonny-no,
It’s about my umbrella I wish to sing
Hey ding a ding, ding.
I stick my umbrella up a lot
With a hey-nonny-no,
Whether it’s raining or not
Hey ding a ding, ding.
The other day it hosed down
With a hey-nonny-no,
Just as I was leaving to go to town
Hey ding a ding, ding.
Suddenly a gust of wind blew it inside out.
I started to twist and shout.
What the hell is this all about?
I was getting wet. No doubt.
I hope I don’t get gout.
Hey ding a ding, ding.
My love for my umbrella was just recently awoken.
Now it’s broken
And I’m soakin’.
—–
The witch she mixes potion
Bats’ wings and eye of newt
Tears of angels, toes of frogs
Old wine and rotting fruit
She casts her spell, she leaves her smell
She takes off with a slop
“She’ll not get far with that,” I say,
“It’s not a broomstick, it’s a mop.”
—–
Boris, as we called him,
made short work of our lawn in
no time at all for many a year,
his whirling dervishing music to my ear.
But one fateful day
his brain faded away
and chaos reigned on our green parade
as anything but lawn was flayed.
Boris charged and snapped dragons at full pelt,
(all the while how his innards smelt)
and mounted kerbs uncurbed
as he rose to the occasion so recently suburbed.
Just when I thought his madness was expended
and his carnationage had ended,
he climbed the bean poles, snicker-snack,
and gave the peas no chance, alas, alack.
There was nothing for it but the mortal blow
as my axe cleaved poor Boris’s fevered brow
and he shuddered and turned turtle
‘midst the burgeoning lemon myrtle.
—–
Stepping on land mines is not nice
But Walter has a way with strife
It seems absurd
But please believe
Now Walter has an iron knee
—–
by Matt Snyder
electric fan seemingly whirring about
cool breeze on my face (ah choo)
oh the dust, the build up
i really really need to clean you
take of your grate & left you plugged in
using this can of air on you much to my chagrin
i can’t seem to get close
so i move in further
shit i cut off my nose !!!
—–
It was just five feet
Oh, so very sweet
Down the fairway
With a single play
Then a chip shot
Within five feet of the pot
It was my day!
Five feet
Creating victory from defeat
Sink it and I win
Endless rounds of gin
If I miss the hole in the ground
I buy round after round
Five feet – I can’t miss
The ball needs just a little kiss
Just five feet, for heaven’s sake!
–
And that’s why my putter
Is at the bottom of the lake….
—–
by Fishman
When she was around she did lots of useful stuff, sometimes did it in the buff.
Did some cooking and some cleaning;
I never did totally get her meaning.
Thoughts were dull and sort of unstudied.
Conversations were often somewhat muddied.
I probably shouldn’t have said anything because she was nice to have around.
One day in June she said, “Goodbye”.
I smiled and grabbed the remote ‘cuz it was nearby
You woulda thought I’d have felt a little blue
but in fact I sort of felt brand new.
I was alone, read and listened to some P-Funk,
found it wasn’t so bad, who woulda thunk.
—–
by Gary
Face it I am a muppet
As useful as badly worn glove puppet
The youthful sporting body is sadly no more
Now this used body constantly needs to visit the drugstore
I just can’t bend over without making a groan
I can only move thanks to heaps of cortisone
Once brimming with dreams of adventure and success
Now I’m wracked with anxieties and filled with stress
Everyday is filled with mistake after mistake
Always sweeping up the stuff I carelessly brake
Increasingly covered in dust
With a bank balance which has gone bust
These days definitely more rounded in the middle
Watching life fly past featuring only as a second fiddle
No more than a terrible poetry bard
Maybe it’s time for me to visit the knackers yard
—–
Always always
Make sure they are clean
Or, you know what I mean?
You never know
What the situation that will show
When an accident you have in your pants
—–
If throw up is bad
then why does it work
to get out that tad
of that poor tummy quirk.
Vomit is awful
so is the flu
Throw up in a bucket
not right onto you.
Maybe you’ll feel better
but maybe not yet
I don’t care too much
no pity you’ll get.
—–
Thank you all.
Obbverse: Here’s a badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:
©2020 The poets, and their respective poems.
Greetings! In case you’re lost, this is The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. We’ve been assailing the senses and assaulting the sensibilities since November of 2018. The management would like to apologize for today’s delay in posting a prompt. Her laptop computer met a most unfortunate fate at the other end of a bokken…
This is the most recent photo we have of The Deceased.
But, let’s not dwell on the past, or on the fact that the children now have no web camera with which to Zoom for schoolwork. Read some basics on bad poetry here. Next, read this week’s specifics:
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (April 24 or 24 April, Bryntin) 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 and/or poem do not show up within a day.
Have fun!
Keep your hands in the car, his mother always warned.
But Tom just laughed, and waved his fingers;
Her advice, he always scorned.
Then, one day, in teenage-hood, he disobeyed too far:
In response to, Please don’t, Tom, he waved just one finger
And laughed, a Har har har.
But Fate or whatever in-charge-of-mothers-and-irony Saint
Must have watched and taken the wheel
‘Cause if Tom wanted, he cain’t
Wave mid-finger or hand
At all.
©2020 Chelsea Owens
Photo credit: Elia Pellegrini
Kevin’s going to kill me, but the winner of the best Coronavirus song parody is:
Look
If you had
One cough
One fever temperature
That could possibly mean COVID-19
With no treatment
Would you stay inside
And not take a trip?
Yo
His plans were ready, two weeks, temperature steady
He’s coughing on his dear aunt Betty, she’s not ready
Needs nurses, clean surfaces, soap and water
Will right wrongs, but sometimes he forgets
To just stay home, he wants to go out
He makes up a route, but can’t even buy trout
He’s breathin’ loud, everybody’s worried now
Masks help in reality, no room now for leavity
Oh, here’s a pandemic, no joke
He feels bad, it’s so tough to be sneezy! Oh!
He can’t have it! No, not COVID, he hopes
To make the curve flatter. At home, he stays there out of soap
It’s so flagrant. The Pope, he wants ventilators in Rome. Hey what’s this?
Back to the lab again yo, make a vaccine ready
Better let go of this Pangolin and hope he don’t eat it
You better, close yourself in you home, your apartment
You know it, you better never, ever, ever go!
You only have one cough, but sneezing is how it grows!
This COVID-19 could end somebody’s lifetime
You better
He sure like’s vaping, could be better at breaking
The lung’s for COVID’s taking
What a fling, China likes the World Health Org’ers
The staying home is boring, and now we’re really closing the border!
His breathing gets harder, fever gets hotter
He blows his nose harder, He knows he should stay in
Host to host blows, he could be a major infector
Lonely homes, job market slows, he’s chosen working from home, near the larder
He stays home, and barely even hears his own laughter
He blows his nose, and here comes the old farter
The store doesn’t have it no more, no toilet products
Virus moved to the next soul it goes, his nose roves and he needs sanitizer
So soap bill just grows, and slows, I hope this whole COVID, the virus goes on
Da-da-dum, da-dum, da-da
You better, close yourself in you home, your apartment
You know it, you better never, ever, ever go!
You only have one cough, but sneezing is how it grows!
This COVID-19 could end somebody’s lifetime
You better
—–
Congratulations, Dumbest Blogger! You are the most terrible poet of the week!
Hands down, these are some of the best parodies out there. For those who didn’t ‘win,’ I hope you publish yours and get YouTube famous (Ritu’s already on her way). Dumbest Blogger, I just couldn’t not recognize the incredible effort you put into parodying so much of Eminem’s famous rap. I mean -“dear aunt Betty”?? Genius.
For a different sort of singalong, here are some chart-toppers:
Love, exciting and new
Come aboard. we’re infecting you.
Love, let’s all get in close.
My holiday romance, can I give you a dose?
The love boat, with passengers old and vague
The love boat. Soon we’ll be spreading another plague
Set a course for the hospital
Your mind on rewriting your will
And if I don’t survive this then I sure as heck won’t pay the bill.
Love. That won’t go away.
In the cabin next door
They didn’t wake up today
Love. That we can all share
And finish our cruise in intensive care
The love boat, we’ll soon have the world on its knees
The love boat. Let’s incubate love and disease
Now please step away, ’cause I think I am going to sneeze.
Love. What a wonderful cruise
Where life becomes cheap
Just like the booze
Love. A ménage a trois?
Let’s cough on each other down by the bar
The love boat. Don’t ever pay them in cash
The love boat. More than an embarrassing rash
And if we don’t find safe harbour they’ll be throwing us out with the trash.
—–
by Obbverse
Stacey’s mom, she’s got it goin’ on,
Stacey’s mom, she’s always been the one,
Stacey’s mom, since adolescence has begun,
Stacey’s mom, in my dreams she’s coming on.
Stacey can I come over after school (after school)
Can I lay by your pool thinking of your mom (and drool)
Stacey has your mom come back from her New York trip?
The thought of her returnin’ makes my hear flipping skip.
You know, I’m not the little boy you used to see
I’m all grown up, boy, it’s painfully obvious to me.
Stacey’s mom she’s got it goin’ on;
In short, she’s the one for whom I long,
Stacey when I look at you you’re just a girl to me,
Yes, its wrong and creepy, but I’m sweet on Stacey’s mom.
OH- Stacey’s mom has got her hot bikini on,
Guess I’m laid up till my temperature has gone.
Stacey do you ‘member when I mowed your lawn? (your lawn/)
Your mom came out with but a tea towel on (hardly on)
I could tell she liked me from the smile we shared (smile we shared)
I love to see those big beautiful bountiful teeth bared (big teeth bared)
And i think its more than an adolescent fantasy-
But since your dad skipped out, howsabout me as your step-daddy?
Stacey’s mom, she’s got somethin’ goin; on,
Call me slightly sick, but this puppy’s love is strong,
Stacey, I swear she’s blushing bright at me!
Woah, Stace, she’s feverishly flushing, I was wrong,
Sorry Stacey’s mom, this guy’s busy gettin’ gone.
—–
The bus was never waiting for us, girl
It always left when the driver said
We stayed too late at the dance
It departed and we were depressed
In the closet, hot and stuffy,
Along with Dad’s old army pants.
We barfed there in the dark
All the Coke and pizza flowing down.
Then I had to walk home in the rain
Caught a cold, I can’t shake it,
so next week I can’t make it
Cos I’m locked down with the Covid once again.
Oh, no!
Oh, no
No, no
Oh no!!
—–
Coronavirus
Coronavirus
Coronavirus
Coronavirus
You put the wheez, wheez into my chest (Cough, cough)
You sent my temperature sky high with your kiss
Social isolation was sending me insane (yeah, yeah)
Guess we were all feeling the same.
But something’s bothering me (ha-ha, ha-ha)
Something ain’t right (ha-ha, ha-ha)
My best friend told me you went out last night (ha-ha, ha-ha)
Left me sleepin’ in my bed (ha-ha, ha-ha)
I was behaving, but you when partying instead (ha-ha)
Wake me up before you go-go
We can still go in pairs, if we lay low
Wake me up before you go-go
I mean I’ll get it from you anyway, ain’t that right?
Wake me up before you go-go
Fever’s not much fun when it’s done solo
Wake me up before you go-go
Covid19 we’ll see you tonight
My fever’s gonna get so high (yeah yeah)
—–
by Kristian
My Corona
My Corona
Ooh, my little deadly one, a deadly one
OK, at the moment I feel…. Fine, Corona
Ooh, you make my fever run, my fever run
Sweats running off me is that a…… Sign, Corona?
If I don’t ever stop, going out, I’m going out of my mind
I’ll get infected from the touch of the unwashed kind
My, my, my, ay, ay, woah!
M-m-m-my Corona
Don’t Come any closer, huh, ah, don’t ya, huh
Not Close enough to look in my eyes, Corona
Keeping six feet away from me,
or you will see, that everyone dies, Corona
If I don’t ever stop, going out, I’m going out of my mind
I’ll get infected from the touch of the unwashed kind
My, my, my, ay, ay, woah!
M-m-m-my Corona
M-m-m-my Corona
Na, na, na, na, na-na
My Corona
When you gonna get to me, get to me
It is just a matter of….. Time, Corona.
—–
by Bryntin
Now you’re alone and your house isn’t homely
you can always blame – lockdown
when your still in your jimjams and your mouth is all furry
it’s easy to blame – lockdown
just listen to the silence of no traffic in the city
don’t linger on the sidewalk ‘cos the bug’ll get you dicky
happy to booze
the lights are much safer there
you can forget all your troubles, not bother with your hair
because of – lockdown
things will be smelly because – lockdown
no better place for wine – lockdown
you just need a corkscrew
don’t hang around or let your relatives surround you
plenty of movies on Netflix lockdown
maybe you know little places to go to
take your bottles and never close lockdown
just listen to the sirens through the pain of your hangover
you might join in with ’em too before this thing is all over
outside again
your clothes will be tighter there
‘cos you forgot all your diets, forgot all your cares
so go – lockdown
where all the socialites are light – lockdown
TV dinner for one tonight – lockdown
you’ve just got to sit tight now – lockdown
Lockdown…
Lockdown….
Lockdown….
(etc. etc. chorus fades out to a final deathly silence…)
—–
Yesterday
The Covid Virus seemed so far away
Now it looks as if it is here to stay
Oh, I believe in Yesterday
Suddenly
I’m locked inside instead of free
There’s a facemask hanging over me
Oh, yesterday came suddenly
Why I had to hide, locked inside, I couldn’t say
I coughed, is something wrong?!??! Now I long for yesterday!
Yesterday
Meeting friends was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh, I believe in yesterday
Why I had to hide, locked inside, I couldn’t say
I coughed, Something’s wrong!!!! Now I long for yesterday!
Yesterday
Meeting friends was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh, I believe in yesterday
MM mm mm mm mm mm
—–
by Matt Snyder
Black bird coughing every day and night
his temperature is high, it’s quite a site
Why oh why. did Covid 19 have to come into your life ?
Black Bird feeling sicker now
huddled in your nest in that big oak tree
Why oh why ? Did Covid 19 have to come in to your life
Black Bird don’t die
Black Bird don’t die
You will break free and you then will see
that Covid 19 won’t be your destiny
Black Bird feeling better now
Normal Body temp every day and night
But boy you gave us a fright
Covid 19 is no longer part of your life
Covid 19 is no longer part of your life
—–
by Geoff LePard
Nights during lockdown
Never seeming to end
I’m being driven
Right round the bend
People I’m missing
Beyond the front door
Another night with the missus
Oh what a bore!
Cos I’ve Covid
Yes I’ve Covid
Oh I’ve got Covid
Gazing at walkers, six feet apart
Distanced by Covid, not by my worst fart
I’ve taken up jogging, I stop for a breath
People dodge round me, I’m exhaling death
And it’s Covid
Yes it’s Covid
Sodding Covid
I think I’ve caught Covid, my breathing’s all manky
Even the dog starts to panic when I gob in my hanky
My hair’s a right mess, my armpits are smelly
There’s nothing else for it, save to blob by the telly
Cos of Covid
Bloody Covid
Effing Covid…
—–
<Funky bass and drum groove. You know the kind: the one that makes you get up and dance with the window shades open because you don’t care who sees you doing your thing, even if you haven’t worn anything but underwear for the last month.>
Mmm, mmm, mmm…
Oh, it’s a sick house.
He’s just wearing underwear and letting it all hang out.
Ah, it’s a sick house.
Coronavirus, means he can’t go hustle about.
Oh, it’s a sick house.
Those funky symptoms makes her have to quarantine
Yeah, it’s a sick house
Makes her stop and think about her hygiene.
They know they got everything
that a couple needs to ride this thing out.
Toilet paper, wipes and bleach
and 36 pounds of frozen lake trout.
Cause it’s a sick house.
They make a porridge with broth and crushed black beans
in their sick house
cuz they read it cures COVID-19
Oh, it’s a sick house.
Nervous break
Nervous break
Nervous break
Nervous breakdown.
Need a mask
and some gloves
and a gown now
Nervous break
Nervous break
Nervous break
Nervous breakdown.
Need Purell
Need some bleach
Need Lysol
Gonna bawl now.
Nervous break
Nervous break
Nervous break
Nervous breakdown.
—–
by Ruth Scribbles
The itty bitty virus 🦠
Climbed in the human’s mouth
Down to the lungs
It settled right on in
Up with the cough to
Infect the rest of you
And the itty bitty virus 🦠
Goes round and round the world
—–
by Gary
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
One infected, two infected, three infected, four.
Four infected make a pandemic and so do many more.
Over hill and highway the corona buggies go
Comin’ on to bring you The Corona Up The Shit Creak Show.
Makin up a mess of life
Makin up a mess of jobs
Lot’s of free time for everyone.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Four infected, three infected, two infected, one.
All not allowed to play outside in the bright warm sun.
Flippin sick of our leaders, poppin like a cork
Guarding the bog rolls with a Pitch Fork
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
Cov id, id, id, id, id, id.
—–
by Obbverse
I get snotty fingers when I blow my nose,
Folk are all around me, and so the virus goes,
It’s spitten in the wind whenever my nose blows-
As they glove up and gown me, a gnawing worry grows.
You know I sniffle I always will,
My runny nose’s never been that big a deal,
Its just a sinus infection but I can’t pretend
This cold’s a nasal nightmare, snot without end.
I see your masked face before me as I lie in my bed,
I kinda regret spreading all the things I spread,
Someone gave a dose to me, I gave it on to you,
Now I’m hyperventilating, feelin’ sad ‘n’ lookin’ blue.
—–
by Ritu Bhathal
Imagine there’s no bog roll
It’s easy if you try
No real tissue to wipe with
Gonna have to air dry
Imagine all the people without a bidet
Imagine no MacDonalds
No Costa, KFC
On no, what will you eat now?
Gonna have to cook your own tea
Imagine all the people raiding ASDA
You may say I’m a dreamer
Actually I’m not, it’s really on
I hope, some day this Coronavirus
Will feck off and just do one
Imagine kids home schooling
Parents trying to teach
Controlling all their offspring
Voices raising to a screech
Imagine all the adults reaching for the gin
Ooh oh ooh
You may say I’m a dreamer
Actually I’m not, it’s really on
I hope, some day this Coronavirus
Will feck off and just do one
—–
I skipped the nightly newscast
Turned cartwheels ‘cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick
But still I ate some more.
And the stocks were running lower
As the evenings flew away
So I called up to Just Eeeeat
And the biker brought my trays
And so it was later
As the Miller told his tale
That my face at first just greenish
Turned a whiter shade of pale.
So now my cupboard’s empty
And the truth is plain to see
Just a jar of antipasti
And a plate of frozen peas
I’ll just have to try much harder
Or I’ll bust right through my seams.
And although Joe Wicks is on the telly
My eyes might as well been closed
And so it was later
As the Miller told his tale
That my face at first just greenish
Turned a whiter shade of pale.
—–
Thank you all.
Dumbest Blogger: Here’s a badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:
©2020 The poets, and their respective poems.
Hello all, and welcome to our prestigious contest. Most of the time, we’re searching for that little something that every single new poet does over and over, and with great feeling. This week, however, we’re mixing it up a bit.
You have till 8:00 a.m. MDT next Friday (April 17) to submit a poem. *!!ALSO!!* My husband has agreed to sing a recording of the winner’s song.
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 I miss your pingback or poem.
Have fun!
Videos © their creators
by Chelsea Owens
Oh, hubby, kiddies; why did you go make a hole
In something I just bought you?
Oh, baby, sonny; as mother, I should have known,
And now you’re out of undies.
Don’t show me
What ‘commando’ me-eans
Don’t tell me, ’cause I had a brother -oh, oh boy!
My spendthriftness is buggin’ me
To just spend less, I must achieve (must achieve).
When they’re all naked, I go online.
-If it ships on time-
Click that ‘A’ now, make it Prime!
©2020 Chelsea Owens
Chel Owens 