At looooong last, I’ve had time that I should have spent feeding my children and cleaning my house to spend on choosing a winner.
And that winner is: Deb Whittam.
by Deb Whittam
i got you out when it
was darker than the darkest
night, when the silence
wasn’t golden, it was burnt
like toast forgotten in the
toaster, when all stared at me
not perplexed, kind of,
mean, if you know what I mean,
mean like Mexican bean beans.
it was you that brought
sunlight to my life, that made me
feel accepted and perhaps
even like liked
it was you who made others
smile, not that kind of smile
when they are placating you,
but that kind of smile when they
think what you said was actually
a little bit funny
where are you now, where could
you be hiding … in a suitcase perhaps
perhaps, then it was the best
of times, but now it is the worst
of times, for you, I miss you oh
sense of humor who stood by me when
I couldn’t think of what to say but,
now you are gone, gone as in absent, perhaps
forever, forever, ever
Congratulations, Deb! You are the most terrible poet of the week!
As is the norm every contest, the choosing felt brutal. I narrowed things down to about three poems; based on sounding like an elegy, losing something, and (of course) being terrible. Deb’s concoction had several bad poetry elements like repeated words that had no reason to repeat, and that it felt very much like a serious poem -but really was not.
As is also the norm every contest, the other entrants were hardly losers (winners?). Read below and see if you can keep a straight face:
by Bruce Goodman
Oh woe is me
For I have lost my Virginity
Somewhere between the pharmacy
And under the Linden Tree.
If you should see it running about
Give me a shout
Even if you are in doubt.
I have no idea how it got out.
It was here one minute and then gone
Quick as a flash, it didn’t take long.
Where could have I gone wrong?
I feel such a ning-nong.
I desperately want my Virginity back
To lose it is a great lack.
My mother says it’s my own fault, that’s a fact,
And anyway, she says, Virginity is a stupid name for a cat.
by Ruth Scribbles
Alas my brain
through a strainer
Of multi media
Input and output.
What a pain!
With the wind
Wound up like a
String of yarn
My brain was painfully
Matter is spaced
It’s gone… my brains
Pieces are sliding
I can’t catch them
Glue won’t help
My file cabinet has been
I can’t even cry
Because my brain
Doesn’t know that–
It is gone gone gone
I Miss My Phone
by Larry Trasciatti
My very heart and soul do break,
So forlorn and woebegone
When I , alone with my pajamas on
Have been begrudged my telephone.
I go to Google’s Hangouts and
Punch my number into the keys.
And hope and pray that maybe please
Its dulcet ring will soon arise.
O I suspect where it may be
Perchance in my pajama bottom
At least that’s where it was last autumn.
And just where are they when I need’em?
If it into my pants pockets was tossed
And only for a moment lost
I hope that soon our paths will have again crossed
And it will not in a machine get washed.
Gone for Good, Gone for Bad
by Trent McDonald
In a fair wind
Keeping my balance
In all things emotional
I have lost thee!
How, oh how, could it be?
You are the one thing
That keeps me safe!
I would be beaten up
All of the time
You make me watch my mouth
All of the time
I don’t insult bigger guys
Because of you
But now you are gone
To wherever such things go
I see only red
I can’t find you
When the world is red!
I hate red!
And it is pissing me off
To no end!
The red is growing
I am trembling
I need to punch something
Because you are gone!!!!
GET BACK HERE!!!!!!!
Ah, my temper
where can you be?
I have lost my temper once again
And the world
Will never be the same
FLOWERS ON THE COFFIN
May I live or die
But my love
will never die”
These words are
written on an
old maple leaf
which is still
on the coffin of the boy
who once said this
lines to his love.
Actual, this maple leaf is a valentine gift once given
by the boy to his girl
which last even after his death.
Elegy For My Smartphone
by Joanne Fisher
Bitter the world becomes
when you lose your smartphone
Time and again at the days beginning
when I used to switch my phone on
to see the latest notifications
I must now mourn it’s absence
there is no one I can now
communicate to without Twitter
Without it how do I dare
open the doors of my heart?
When before I used to happily post away
not ever needing to guard my thoughts
but with it’s loss my world dwindles
day by day, and passes away
Where has my Facebook gone? Where is Twitter?
Where has Tumblr gone? Where the texts? Where my
player of music?
Where the Uber Eats? And where the pleasures of
my solitaire app?
Sad at heart I bind my feelings in fetters
I dream I still have my phone
then I wake and it’s absence
is more heavy on my heart
aching for it’s touch screen
and it’s comfortable place in my hand
Nothing is easy in this world when
even our phones are in the hands of fate
here tweets are fleeting, here texts are
fleeting, here Snapchat is fleeting,
without my smartphone the whole world
becomes a wilderness.
By Any Other Name
Euphemisms abound around this truth that’s hard to face;
My admission – I avoid it – staring blankly into space.
My loss has now beset me. My lament has brought me low.
Ever more do others notice. Clearly they’re no longer stowed.
Ere I pursued that line of thought, I prob’ly should have paused,
Alas too late, as now is clear, my marbles I have lost!
Thar’ She Blows
by Peregrine Arc
I’ve had it up to here
My patience has disappeared.
No longer am I diplomatic;
no longer are we being quite so pragmatic.
You’ll get it done, you’ll jot it here
Two weeks later and it’s–oh dear!
It isn’t done, it isn’t well?
Well who could’ve bloody telled?
It’s no matter, I forgive
Just sign this paper here, no motive.
For my patience has gave, it is no more
For your incompetence has made me forlorn.
I’ll measure your shoulders, I’ll dig the hole
And into your coffin with prayers you’ll go.
For I’m tired of hearing you’ll do something soon
When you’d just as well promise me the moon.
Elegy to My Last Pair of Glasses
by Leanna Jones
Farewell my glasses, farewell to thee,
I hope you know what you meant to me.
When you entered my life, I was delighted
But now your departure has left me short sighted.
I can’t watch EastEnders or read the news.
I can’t put on lipstick or lace up my shoes.
I now live in darkness, and perpetual blur,
With only the memories of how good things were.
Oh why did you go! Why did you flee!
I’m lost without you, quite literally.
An empty space on the side of my bed
And nothing to touch on the top of my …
Oh silly me, they’re always found there
I’ll check first next time, before I buy a new pair.
by Violet Lentz
Ain’t never knowed no one like ol’ Leon Hodges. All piss, vinegar, and moonshine. Had a mouth a man shouldn’t a et with, couldn’t read a book, d’nt know a letter from a line.
He told some great tall tales tho’, ‘bout women, an wine, an song. Don’t know the truth of nar a one, ‘ccept ’bout how his first marriage up an’ done gone wrong.
Don’t know if he had any chi’drn, if he did, he never spoke a none to me, and I’d a have ta say he woulda, as I was prolly close to him, as another man could be.
When the news come of his passin’, it come down hard up on my heart- I ain’t gone lie. I’ll tell ya the truth, that mans leavin’ done tore this man apart.
All the times I shook my head and said, ‘You damn ol’ bastard liar!’, I’d give anything for one more night, with ol’ Leon, spinnin’ yarns in front o’ a good hot fire.
He was a good man, bl’eive that, cause I wouldn’t tell you no lie, was the best damn friend I ever had. Gol dang it Leon! Why’d ya up ‘n die?
To Misplace is to Lose
by Michael B. Fishman
Hark thee temper, I loseth
Lo temper, a canker-blossom
you’re really pretty awesome
and more so even if you could come
Look at that car! Says my beastly patience crassly. Oops, lost.
These lousy lines aren’t moving. Obnoxious and clumsy patience, plump and scary. Oops, lost.
He was out at home? What? That flabby umpire is blindingly blind! Oops, lost.
My lusty patience. Silly and sometimes witty. Mysteriously mysterious. And imperious. Why so serious? You joker.
Oh proud patience: my paltry pretender of a painfully prickly persistence. Would you obey me if I didn’t mislay thee?
Thank you to so many entries this week! You certainly made the contest difficult to judge! Please tune in tomorrow for next week’s prompt.
Deb: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) for a badge of honor as the winner: