WINNER of the Terrible Poetry Contest 4/14/2022

The challenge was to write a free-verse poem on bad driving, compliments of last contest’s winner, Matt! So, at long last, who was the ‘best’ at ‘worst?’

Bad Driver

by Frank

I told my shrink that the cops brought me here because of my bad driving and he said I had no record of ever driving a car in my life and I told him, not car, spaceship, S-P-A-C-E-S-H-I-P, and he said I had no spaceship and wasn’t an alien because my DNA test, D-N-A, showed I’m human enough and I told him, well, then why am I in that padded cell and he said I wasn’t in any cell and I asked him if he was trying to drive me crazy and if he was he wasn’t doing a good job of it and then he said I was brought in because I was scaring the neighborhood kids and the judge assigned me to him and I told him that I had a lot of fun turning my head 360 degrees like an owl and he said I couldn’t do stuff like that and I asked him whether he ever saw me and he said no and so I asked him if he wanted to see me turn my head 360 degrees and he said, “Sure, Marvin, go ahead turn your head 360 degrees like an own, go on show me” and so I turned my head 360 degrees like an owl and he called the exorcist.

This poem is in imitation of Gerald Stern’s American Sonnets. There “sonnets” have no rhyme nor meter (and often no sense that I could detect). They are all one sentence long allowing the reader to put in line breaks or not. I would call them terrible American sonnets, but he won some award for them and they are occasionally entertaining.

—–

Congratulations, Frank! You are the most terrible poet! Let me know the type of poem and theme for the next two weeks.

I was AMAZED at the poems this week. AMAZED! Way to make my highly-prestigious judging difficult, everyone. The poems were terrible, plus they were terrible -making fun of a typical free verse, adding a twist or two, using humor or surprise, and adding in cliché poetic elements.
I think Frank’s stood out after all that because of his unique form. How annoying, really. You said Gerald Stern “won some award;” well, now you have.

Don’t stop there, though. Go ahead and enjoy the others:

First Time on the Highway!

by trentpmcd

the flowers of spring
and the newly green grass
animals frolicking
after the long winter
I smile as I wonder
how did I get here
to this little slice
of paradise
the torn-up turf
gives a clue
as does the broken windshield
oh, the joy
of freedom
did I tell you
I received my drivers license
yesterday?

—–

Untitled

by Richmond Road

When we start
It is odd
Is it not?
That the pause in the flow
Might somehow show
A teasing hint
Of thought so deep
Of thinking, not sinking
into sleep
An inner confusion
Leading to the illusion
Of footsteps
well trod
But just rot
Pretending to be art

—–

Untitled

by Dumbestblogger

Steering wheel
Gas pedal
Brake
I’m not sure which is which
I prefer abstract philosophical principles
To hard-headed empiricism
Those colored lights they put over the intersections are really pretty

—–

Road Ragin’

by Gr8bigfun

Driving down the road 🛣️
Minding my own business
When buddy flips me the bird 🦜
I know free verse don’t rhyme
But this guy’s a real turd 💩
With my ego now bruised
My brain explodes 💥
And my senses go blind
What’s this clown’s 🤡
Problem anyway
Step on the gas ⛽
I weave through the rush
My window recessed 🪟
As I pull up to your ride
I start waving my fist 👊
Rhyme a curse at the lady inside
Don’t call the cops 🚓
That’s not meant for you

I got the wrong car 🚗
Mistaken identity I swear
I’m totally raging 🤬
As I punch it again
Blast past a school bus 🚌
This rhyming is insane
I catch a glimpse 👀
As you make the left
I race through the turn 🏎️
And ‘round the bend
Caught in my web 🕸
️The thrill of pursuit gone
What do I do now ❓
I take a deep breath and
In a moment of zen ☯️
My road rage does pass
I rhyme one last time ⌚
And realise, I’m the real ass!

—–

THE BIRD

by Matt

Your blinker
is on
Still…
Oh
How much
Slower must I
go to get
You off
My
Ass!
Veins they but protrude
Shades of red flush my face
Cut me off
The hell ?
Holy
Shit a
Spider in front of
my face!
Smash Boom
Crash
not me, thankfully
we is stuck
behind rubber
neckers but you, you!!!
Pass everyone by on
the
shoulder yield
does not
mean
stop
every single one of y’all
gets the bird!

—–

Untitled

by Tangental

My driving is perfection.
I know this because I drive a Ford Cliche,
And have one aim when behind the wheel:
to remove the worst driver in the world,
Arthur Goode, from Britain’s roads.
In my car, I am perfection,
I am the enemy of the Goode.

—–

Bad Driving

by Michael B. Fishman

For, I say; fore.
Out of my way for I am a bad driver.
Four violent torso twists, the club a blur of polished wood, and the ball barely moves

but my back hurts.
For what it’s worth –

to toot my own horn –

I’ll say that I’m not bad with
irons,
or putters,
but drivers,

I am a bad driver.

Drivers are the chink in my Armour bologna Cracker Crunchers
lunch with a Butterfinger candy bar fun size dessert armor.

I ate at an Italian restaurant, name now forgotten, and I was so taken with the bombolotti, that squat little powerhouse noodle that expertly trapped the slightly sweet sauce and diced onion and, I think?

Parmigiano or pecorina cheese as a culinary captive to caress my …

my…

no provincialism here: my slobbering mouth. So I had to

compliment the chef directly.

I drove myself, chest first, proudly displaying my all’Amatriciana sauce stained shiny Sahara sand satin shirt to the kitchen,

but,

before
I
could
say anything:

The chef, garbed in his winter jacket,

for it was
winter whence
we
met, met
me
at the door and said:

“I cannot unlock my car door”.

I, taken aback, said: “Why not?”

He said, “I have gnocchi.”

I drove him home. I only exceeded the speed limit once,
very briefly,
to make a light.

—–

Poor Parking Parable

by Obbverse

What a dazzlingly bright sizzler of a triple digit day
It was down at the Crucible Mall
What a joy it was to be beneath cloudless azure skies
In a Midnight Blue Horizon
With no fu…nctioning air-conditioning
Not a park to be found within spitting distance
Of the Mall’s shady walls
Nary a one
Thanks to one selfish bas- parker
who had left two half spaces on either side
Of the fat-wheeled Ford F150 parked athwart the middle line
Of the only two miserably designated Disabled car parks
Lolling In his F150 sat
A fat-as slack faced cowboy
Hairy mitt draped on the wheel
Cab wreathed in vape smoke
He paused but for a second to chug down his Bud
Before leaping down agilely and
Lightly-
Lightly for such a heavy gutted hombre-
Onto the asphalt
Belched heavily
And strode back into the Booze Barn
For ‘nother nourishing six-pack
No Disabled card on view
Nope, not right nor fair but…

Never mind.

After parking way out back in the back of beyond
Out in the furthest and farthest
Rarely traversed reaches of the car park
Far from the Mall and the madding crowd
I gamely sweated my way across
The shimmering tacky asphalt
Trekking towards the far-off
Sliding doored cold comfort of
Krogers
My journey through Hades proved to be well worth it though!
Oh
So gratifying it was to see our invalid invalid
Looking fair fit to be tied
Getting roughly cuffed and arrested by someone
Healthily buffed and in a well-stuffed XL black uniform
And
As a bonus
Our cow-poke’s big-as truck getting all
Set to be towed
I joined in with the surrounding crowd
Easing in beside
A finely groomed and elegantly dressed elderly gent
‘Another ass who believes it’s his right to use not just one
But two Disabled parks’ he offered
Eyes hard as tempered steel
‘It’s rare to see such justice playing out before our eyes’
I croaked agreeably in my parched cracked voice
Seems all about us most folks agreed
And as the baddest example
Of good driving I’d seen in quite a while
Was hauled away
Everyone enthusiastically yet oddly waved him ta-ta’s
All with both hands
But sans fingers
‘Cept for middle digits
I bade the elderly gent a hearty good day
And walked
away
He went gladly off on his way
His wheelchairs wheels
Making one Hell of a deep impression along the
Fords flanks
Which made for quite the racket too
But everyone in the vicinity
Who should have witnessed this
Had to have been deaf-finately handicapped

If not deaf, blissfully, smilingly unaware.

—–

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Thank you, everyone! Come back to learn the next two weeks’ prompt.

Frank: Here’s your badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2022 The poets, and their respective poems.

The Terrible Poetry Contest 4/2/22

Welcome to the biweekly Terrible Poetry Contest!

Did you know that everyone writes terrible poetry? Even bonafide, published, worshipped ‘poets’ write terrible poetry. Don’t worry; none of us is that famous (I think). We’re in it for the notoriety. Wanna join in but aren’t sure how to let it all go? Try reading my tips, here.

Here are the specifics for this contest:

  1. Matt won it all last round, and says we’ll write on the Theme of bad driving, free-verse style. Free verse is defined as “nonmetrical, nonrhyming lines that closely follow the natural rhythms of speech” (Poetry Foundation). Basically, you’re freewheeling it and trying to sound artsy doing so.
  2. You’re the driver; you choose the Length.
  3. Traditional free verse poetry does not Rhyme. You take that where you wish.
  4. Just make it terrible! Take the pedal to the medal on a collision course so awful you drive Ms. Daisy crazy.
  5. Rating: PG-13 or cleaner. I’ve seen you drive.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MDT on Thursday, April 14 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 Pixabay on Pexels.com

—–

©2022 Chel Owens

Ya Know What I Mean?

“And this one here, this one we’ve got loads of in stock; ya know what I mean?”

There it was again, grating.

The motorsports salesman continued his spiel, hands gesturing and mouth sideways-smirking. Every now and again, he’d slip that phrase at the end of a statement -not in the same pattern, no. He couldn’t even alleviate my senses that way.

See, I’m bothered by repetition. Maybe you’re not. Maybe in sixth grade, you could have sat through your classmate’s reading her report aloud with an, “And, um” announcing each new paragraph. As she became more and more nervous, the phrase increased to lead each line. Then, she stuttered it after every pause.

Maybe you like “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

Instead of reflecting on irritants, however, my mind wandered to a mirror: what am I doing, perhaps unconsciously, that drives others up the wall?

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

I know of one thing. I know because of others’ comments and because of my own instincts. I wrestle with years of childhood shyness and mumbling and such to just LOOK PEOPLE IN THE EYE when speaking.

Much of my conversational behavior irritates me. I know I couldn’t stand a recording of myself; I’d spend the entirety of it regretting this gesture or that head flip or ugh; was that what I thought smiling looked like?

Not that I am recommending harsh criticism of oneself. Rather, I wonder what habits you’ve noticed in yourself. Did another person have to point it out for you?

What sorts of amusing or irritating idiosyncrasies have you seen in others? Will you write a character based on them -if ya know what I mean?

—————-

Here’s last week’s recap:
Tuesday, January 11: Updated y’all with “The First-Ever 2022 Blog Update!

ALSO!! Matt of A Prolific Potpourri has been doing audio performances of my Wilhelmina Winters series. He does them once a month for Short Story Saturday and they are excellent. Go listen!!

©2022 Chel Owens

My Top Six Blogging Pet Peeves

  1. WordPress.
    In fact, IF I could get stupid WordPress to make lists easier to manipulate, this would be numbers 1-3! Unfortunately, even attempts at “<ol>” and “<li>” in the actual code do nothing -but lists are the least of WordPress‘ failings…
  2. Blogging thieves.
    Sites with no original content that re-post my work make me feel like locking up or even leaving.
  3. Monetary writers.
    Some are better than others, but most eventually need the door closed on their salesmanship.
  4. “Thank you for visiting.”
    Wellll, I’ve been following and commenting on your site off and on for three years, but, “You’re welcome.”
  5. Comment etiquette.
    It’s vital to respond to people who’ve taken time to log into WordPress fifteen times in order to leave you a smiley face; but, some days I just don’t know whether a thumbs-up (👍🏻) or a smiley return (🙂) is appropriate…
  6. Overall feelings of repression of opinion on the internet as a whole.

Did I miss anything? Let’s go light a simulacrum of WP on fire and pass the day with one fewer care in the world.

Photo thanks to Christopher Burns (no joke) on Unsplash. I may have added the letters.

©2021 Chel Owens

My Biggest Driving Pet Peeve

During rush hour traffic today, I waited at the head of a line of cars for the signal light. And waited. And waited.

Success! -no, a left turn for the other direction.

Suc- no, a left turn for our turn lanes.

Two lines of cars, trucks, minivans on each side pulled out to the intersection then off to the north- and south-going lanes whilst we idled. Then, finally, we did get our light! -no, the intersection still filled with those drivers bending the Yellow Light Rule. And more drivers. And more.

At about the fifth or sixth car turning in front of me, the minivan with the green light, I drove forward. And yet, two or three more cars came on. I employed a trick I’d learned from driving in California and New York, and laid on the horn as they eked past the oncoming horde.

And was reminded of my main driving pet peeve: red light rushers.

I know driving during rush hour can be tricky. In heavy traffic times, I’ve been a left-turner frustrated by a long wait. I’ve been further frustrated by the traffic light allowing four cars through after a five minute delay. I’ve been further further frustrated by no turn light after two five minute delays.

BUT I do not see any reason to squeeze fifteen cars through a red (YES, it was red!) signal against heavy, oncoming traffic. Do they all have a death wish? Surely they aren’t all selfish idiots.

Right?

On some occasions when I’ve complained about red light rushers, my friends have hinted to lighten up. Two of my friends even admitted to the practice.

I think I draw reasonable lines. What do you think? Do you experience people driving like this, or do you experience more heinous practices? Should I live and let die; or continue my righteous crusade, aided by my trusty horn?

crazy-3607408_1920.jpg

—————-

I’m calm. Really. And I wrote the following:
Wednesday, August 21: Wrote “Why Vacation if You’re a Stick in the Mud?” after a ‘fun’ family vacation.

Thursday, August 22: Nothing

Friday, August 23: Winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Gary!

Saturday, August 24: Announced the 40th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is Shakespearean laments. PLEASE ENTER!

Sunday, August 25: “Old World Customs,” in odd response to Carrot Ranch‘s prompt.

Monday, August 26: An inspirational thought from the BBC’s Sherlock Holmes.

Tuesday, August 27: “Wilhelmina Winters, One Hundred One.”

Wednesday, August 28: Today.

I also posted all this week at my motherhood site. I wrote “Picture Imperfect,” “The Beauty of Telling Children, ‘No,’” and “Mother, May I?

 

Photo Credit:
Image by methodshop from Pixabay

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

I have never been so irritated in my life, except for the time I had to sit very still during nerve surgery at the dentist. Good work, poets.

As is the case every week, however, only one may be crowned the victor. This week that winner is: Nitin.

Untitled piece

by Nitin

This is the thirtieth time I’mma say this,
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,
so listen yo, this is the thirtieth time I’mma say this
yeah the thirtieth, so you listenin,
I met her in the thirtieth street
next to the thirtieth store on
the thirtieth year of my life,

Congratulations, Nitin! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

I don’t know whose idea it was to take one of my least favorite things and have everyone poem about it, but that person needs to be fired. These poems were so difficult for me to get through. Just when I thought things couldn’t be more tortuous, I rescued a lone poem from my Spam folder. It may have been marked as such because the poet repeated the same message thirty times.

Thirty times!!!

Way to take the theme, wipe it all over the walls, and smash it into the judge’s face, Nitin.

And, to the rest of you, I award a tie for second place. You are all terrible:

To celebrate Number 30 or 5

by Bruce Goodman

To celebrate Number Thirty
I thought I’d write something dirty
but thirty’s not my favourite number
so I’m going for something humbler.
How about choosing Number Six?
It’s got an eS, it’s got an eX.
It almost seems to rhyme with flex
especially if you pronounce flecks like flicks
but I’m not an Australian.

And so I’m choosing Number Four
as in fourward and four goodness sake
and befour and God foursake-
en. Oh blow it! I’m going back to Number Thirty,
all other numbers make me waffle
which is offal.

So here, to Ms Chelsea, I present 30 roses
in a poesie
to congratulate on Number Five well on the way
that happiness and joy will be every day
and in a Million ways not just Thirty
which is flirty
and dirty
and shirty.
Five would be the number I would deign
to use if I had to start this poem again.

—–

2, By Juan Two

by Jon

Two knew there were only two.
Two who were. Two we rue.
Too much to do to those two;
Clearly too few, this we knew.
Two steps forward, back one plus two.

Deux you have to be too rude?
Maybe, nearly, twice as crude.
Twirly, twirly, twain tutu.
Two against two others skewed
Dos into moral turpitude

Two times kitty, kitty too.
Twice meowing, two mew, mew
Two too many. Many twos…
Two times two I bid you…
Adieu, Adieu! Adieu, Adieu!

—–

One One

by Deb Whittam

One wondered how one one the day
When it wasn’t there to be one anyway
One thought one might be confused
One often is to tell the truth
One then scratched one’s head and looked around
One wondered if one should hide underground
But one had one so one must confess
What one had one was anyone’s guess

—–

Furor over four

by Trent McDonald

Don’t think I’m a bore
To sing the praises of number four
For four is at the forefront of my forward fortress
Forever my numerical mistress
Ah four! Fortune smiles on four!
Sure, there’s four horsemen of the apocalypses
But does four graves make a necropolises?
Forget it, just sing praises for four!
Two squared is four!
Two plus two is four!
Two times two is four!
Two times two times two minus two minus two is four!
See, four ways to make four from two!
And the last had four twos for four!
Forever fortunate in math, four!
How do I love thee, four?
Let me count the ways!
One, two, three, four!
OK, no more
About four
The number
I adore
Four

—–

Untitled piece

by Bereaved Single Dad

Two years for Brexit
Two years and still no exit
Two Prime Minister candidates left
Two Blokes from the right
Two Privileged Backgrounds
Two supporters of hunting with Foxhounds
Two so called men of the people
Two big personalities who loath the townspeople
Two prize A buffoons
Two politicians so easy to lampoon
Two conservatives who love the tycoon
Two elitists who exist for the silver spoon
Two visions which only bring despair and gloom
Two numpties living in a policy vacuum
Two muppets who are so out of tune
Sadly one to be PM in June.

—–

🐜 The Irritated Ant 🐜

by Ruth Scribbles

There once was an ant named Pyzant
Who loved to sing loathsome pop songs
His family hated those cheesy peezy bongs
Sounding like thunder and marching ants
Did you know ants march?
One by one and never done
Ants are not sluggards
They are drunkards
And they keep singing
“The ants go marching five by two”
And they never ever tie their shoes
So irritating. Now I can’t get that out-
Of my head
And it’s time for bed

Zzzzzzzz

—–

Euler’s Number

by Magicquill17

E equals mc-squared,
Oh wait, fudge, it’s a poem about a number and not a physical quantity
So actually e equals 2.718281828459045
And on and on and on and on…
Until the end of time and space
If they have an end, that is.

So what’s the big deal about this e?
See, e raised to x is a very special function
Called the exponential function
But that’s not what’s special about that, no
(Though that could be, at least annoying if not special
Because in childhood they taught us that exponent is just repeated multiplication of a number by itself
Like 2^3 is 2×2×2
Which equals 8, by the way
(Not that it’s relevant)
And you would think that exponential function is x raised to some number
But no dear, oh no,
Exponential function is e raised to x
Annoying, ain’t it?
I know, I hate Maths too)

So the special thing is that the derivative
Of e^x is e^x itself
And so is the integral
(The slope of the function
Is the function itself
And the area under the function
Is the function itself)
Ain’t that clever? Ain’t that amazing?
Look me in the eye and tell me
That that’s not the most beautiful thing ever.
(I know you can’t because I’m behind a screen
Hehehe)

So yeah, e^x is also the inverse of log
Not the log burnt to cook food in primitive times, silly
The logarithm, logx to the base something
Usually- yes- e
Which is 2.718281828459045
Which is asking the question, to what power
Must I raise e
To get x?
See, Maths can be philosophical too.

So e, 2.718281828459045,
Is a very useful number
Because it makes calculations simpler
And that’s counterintuitive
Because you wouldn’t expect such a complicated number
To make things anything but difficult,
But trust me on that,
Because even though you probably don’t
Use it in real life,
I’m a science student.

So e, 2.718281828459045
Is hidden in nature
In spirals of shells, and butterfly wings
And other things people say to
Make themselves sound smart
Amd observant
When really they’ve just googled
‘Number e in nature’
To show it off to friends.
And so did I.
(Such candor.).
Honesty is the best policy,
Or should I say, polic- e?
Not the police that pulls you over for overspeeding, silly,
Policy, polic- e, get it?
I’ll just e myself out.

—–

Thanks again for playing, and come back tomorrow.

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Nitin: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) for a badge of honor as the winner:

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Play the fanfare, crack out the snacks, and do your favorite dance! It’s time for the THIRTIETH Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest!!

Thank you to so many who’ve been here for all or most of those weeks and to the many other willing participants who’ve joined since! If you are a newbie, I recommend reading my brief how-to about terrible poetry. After that, I recommend writing an entry after a really late night or three, and a severe headache.

Here are the specifics for this week:

  1. The Topic is a repeated number. Pick a number, any number, and use it a lot throughout your poem.
    Besides children singing pop songs, I loathe when I have to sit through everyone using the same prompt word for 500 entries. So, irritate me.
  2. Keep the Length shorter than 150 words, so I don’t jump out any windows.
  3. Please Rhyme in terribly, horribly, no-good, very bad ways.
  4. If you can’t tell already, make it terrible. I want crazy people to look at you in fear and for the survivors of Lost to beg you not to repeat that same number again…
  5. Keep things PG or cleaner; there’s no need for crude numerals.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (June 21) to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous for a week.

For a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments.

Have fun!!!

 

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Photo credit:
Johannes W

I’m Not Soliciting, Ma’am…

When we moved into our first house, pregnant with our first child, smiling with the ignorance of ones about to find out how much life cost; we thought mowing the lawn and covering the swamp cooler would be our biggest issues.

Little did we know what lay in wait.

I speak of …solicitors.

The bedroom community we moved to had passed a city ordinance banning door-to-door sales. Word soon reached us, however, that the various companies who bothered everybody in that fashion threatened a lawsuit based on Freedom of Speech. The city reversed their law.

Thus opened the floodgates.

No, the city informed us residents, they couldn’t stop the salesmen. Yes, they also said, we could call the police if the solicitors did not respect our requests. I remember thinking the whole thing a ridiculous idea.

Ridiculous, until I had my first doorbell-ringer. And second. And third. And…. you get the idea. Annoying, relentless, annoying, etc. I’ve never liked salespeople and have hated selling things to people ever since I tried to earn wrapping paper points in elementary school by hitting up my neighbors.

But I’m a nice person. Even with phone solicitors, I try to treat people as human beings. I rarely open the door to yell at the intruders (like some neighbors have bragged), listen to a bit of a spiel then slam the door (also bragged about), or tell the poor lawn treatment guy exactly where he can get off (yep; they were proud of that one, too). For the most part, the humans respond in kind and walk off to politely bother someone else.

There are, as in any story, The Exceptions.

In that first neighborhood I lived in, as a first-time mom, just experiencing nap schedules for the first time, I posted a sign on our door (next to the No Soliciting one, thank you very much). It read: Baby Sleeping, Please Knock. I even included a tiny drawing of a slumbering baby for the less-literate visitors.

Not ten minutes after successfully putting my son to sleep, the bell rang. I barreled angrily to the door, my button having literally been pushed. There stood a woman of young adulthood years carrying some pamphlet for some thing she was selling. She started right in on her sales pitch, even through my Look of Death. And, believe me, my Look can melt metal.

I interrupted several times to tell her she’d ignored my sign. No effect. I didn’t appreciate anyone waking my baby. No effect. She needed to leave; NOW. No effect. I don’t know how, but I finally convinced her to shove off. I don’t think she heard a word I said.

And so, to my complete surprise, I used our wired telephone device to call the police and complain. Besides knowing the local police didn’t have much to do during the day, I also knew that several of my neighbors had young children sleeping.

I know these people need to make a buck. I know that my lawn might need maintenance, I might want to hear about God, I may have wasps’ nests under the eaves, I should consider solar panels while there’s a tax break, and the local drill team could use funds for all those sequins. As far as I can tell, though, the only reason I need to consider a home security system is to see which home security system company is at the door AGAIN to try and sell me one.

…Which is my second-worst experience with a salesman. Good job, Jerk from Vivint. You’ve guaranteed, by insulting my intelligence and judgment with your little snide comments at the end of your sales pitch, that I will never never never never consider your company.

So, how about you guys? Are door-to-door sales a universal problem? Have you had any horrible experiences? Please tell!

No Soliciting

—————-

Sally Smith from just around the block read what I wrote last week; so did your other neighbor, Bob Gibs. Wouldn’t you like to consider my offer as well?:
Wednesday, May 29: We intelligently complained about classical literature in “Is Classic Literature All It’s Hyped up to Be?.”

Thursday, May 30: Nothing.

Friday, May 31: Winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Trent!

Saturday, June 1: Announced the 28th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is Summer (or Winter) Vacation. PLEASE ENTER! Tell your friends! Tell your enemies!

Sunday, June 2: “Maybelle Annabelle Lee,” in response to Carrot Ranch’s prompt.

Monday, June 3: An ‘inspirational’ quote by John Lithgow.

Tuesday, June 4: “Wilhelmina Winters, Ninety-Five.”

Wednesday, June 5: Today.

I also posted a bit at my motherhood site. I wrote “Why Give Teachers Presents?” and “A Chauffeur Mother’s Prayer.”

 

Photo Credit: A sign one of my relatives has on her house. 🙂

Behind the Blogger Tag Thingamajig

Thank you, P’Arc for the nomination! I know it’s not Thursday, but we’ll just ignore that and move on.

Here are the questions with my answers:

1. Why did you start blogging & why have you kept blogging?
I kind-of, sort-of wrote on Facebook. Like, wrote wrote. My goal was to post quality content with immediate results from my adoring fans in real life.
It turned out to be really hard on my self-esteem, watching ‘friends’ re-post crap and ignore my pearls. A truly wonderful (intelligent, beautiful, amazing, kick-a**) friend of mine suggested I move my act over to blogdom.

2. What is your favorite type of blog post to write?
Hands-down: humor. Even with a serious or non-fiction post, a bit of personality gets me giggling at myself.

3. What are your top 3 favorite blog posts?
From myself: I enjoyed my how-to on writing poetry, “Let’s Stay In Bed Today,” and “The Case of the Kitchen Cacophony.”
From other bloggers; I most enjoy reading short stories, humor, poetry -anything well-written, really.

4. What are some of your favorite things to do to relax?
I love curling up with a good bag of potato chips and French onion dip, with only my current book or video game to judge me.

5. What are 3 of your favorite things?
Running in the rain, cuddling during a movie, and satisfying creation.

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6. What are your proudest blogging moments?
Hmmm… that time I broke out to composing every day instead of pasting what I’d already done; and every. single. time someone leaves me a thoughtful comment.

7. What are your hobbies outside of blogging?
Ha ha ha ha ha…. Oh. Maybe you were serious.

8. Describe your personality in 3 words:
Repressed, tired creationist.

9. What are your top 3 pet peeves?
Intentionally unkind people, Intentionally ignorant people, and children singing pop songs.

10. What’s something your followers don’t know about you?
Welllll… if I answered that, it wouldn’t satisfy the question any more.

I’m not sure who I’ve mentioned before and honestly feel too exhausted to double-check. So, here are some blogs you all ought to check out:

Ruth at Ruth Scribbles.

J of Thru Violet’s Lentz.

Stephen, down by the Fractured Faith Blog.

Masercot, who shouldn’t be given a computer at Potatoes and The Promise of More Potatoes.

Geoff LePard, aspiring member of MP’s Flying Circus who writes from TanGental.

Just ’cause I didn’t list you, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I’m firing on about half a cylinder and can therefore only recall the last two blog posts I read. Anyone can play; I’m not picky.

——

THE RULES:

• Thank the person who nominated you

• Answer all the questions down below

• Pingback to the creator: Ellyn@Allonsythornraxx

• Nominate 5+ bloggers you’d like to know more about, to do this tag.

THE CREATOR IS:

Ellyn@Allonsythornraxx

 

Photo Credit:
Geetanjal Khanna

Mystery Blogger Awarded

Thanks to Beckie of Beckie’s Mental Masterfulness for nominating me last week; and on my birthday, no less!

Here are my answers to Beckie’s awesome queries:

  1. Do you collect something, if so, what?
    I just might have a problem collecting books. Yes, I can quit when I -okay; no, no I can’t.

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    may have more than this.
  2. Other than writing, do you have any other hobbies or activities that you enjoy?
    I am a mother and housewife (and regular wife, and taxi, and….) “other than writing.” *Sigh* As such, my other hobbies need to fit between the cracks. They include reading, running, camping, and artsing.
  3. What is your most embarrassing moment in public?
    I puked on several kids at our choir concert in fifth grade.
  4. If you had your choice of sleeping on a bed of nails or eating chocolate covered ants, which would you choose, and why?
    I seriously think this question needs more parameters. I mean; if I only had to sleep on the nail bed for ten seconds, that’d be fine. If I only had to try one ant, that would also be fine.
    Mostly I don’t think I would be able to sleep on nails or chew insects.

    mi_shots-410599-unsplash.jpg
    Cute; but, UGH!
  5. What is your worse pet-peeve?
    I’ve been thinking about this one. My worst pet-peeve is people being selfish, especially at the expense of others. Seriously, people, have some manners if you can’t have empathy.

Some of my favorite posts I giggled to myself over include “Encounter in the Alley,” “Silent but Tardy,” “Everlore,” “My Muse,” and “A Spoonful of Limericks.”

Any stragglers-on to my blog know I’m not a huge fan of this chain mail thing, so my nominees are more a list of blogs I follow that I highly recommend you all check out. If they want to answer the questions, more power to them.

Len of Len’s Daily Diary. Brilliant mind, touching observations, and excellent story-teller.

Treeshallow Musings. She’s a gifted poet and word-painter.

Geoff. If you haven’t read Mr. LePard yet, that may be better for your health.

H.R.R. Gorman. Also an excellent writer; delving into a little sci-fi, a little horror, a little fun.

Beverly Hughes. One of my favorite people. She writes moving and insightful posts about mental illness and her journeyings.

Official Nominees: you may choose to answer my questions:

  • Is there anything chocolate cannot solve?
  • Are fabric softeners really effective?
  • Who is your favorite Disney princess?
  • Which storybook villain would always win a limerick competition?
  • If you could vote for anyone to be leader of your respective country, who would it be and why wouldn’t it be Girl Scout Tagalong cookies?

If interested, here are the rules and such:

Rules:

  1. Put the award logo/image on your blog.
  2. List the rules.
  3. Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link back to their blog.
  4. Answer the 5 questions from the blogger who nominated you.
  5. Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well.
  6. Tell your readers 3 things about yourself.
  7. You have to nominate 10 – 20 people.
  8. Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog.
  9. Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify).
  10. Share a link to your best post(s).

Photo Credits:
Susan Yin
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