WINNER of the Terrible Poetry Contest 11/30/2022

Geoff, the winner of November’s Terrible Poetry Contest, presented us with a unique challenge. Based on his suggested parameters and the theme of climate change, here’s the winner:

Untitled

by Ordinary Person

Oh
Oh oh
the climate
Is it changing yet?
Yes yes it is my friend yes
I don’t know if this is eleven syllables
Or twelve, the climate, climate, climate, climate, climate
Climate, climate, climate, climate, climate, climate, climate, cli-
mate (x whatever the next prime number is)
Climate climate…..

—–

Congratulations, Ordinary Person! You are the most terrible poet this month! Let me know what theme and form we’re to use next time.

The entries this time around were fantastically terrible. You’ve all done an awful job and I couldn’t be more proud. O.P.’s efforts stood out for boldly breaking form into repeating the dumbest part of his verse. His is certainly not the cleverest (whoever said that was the name of this contest?) but is quite bad.

All the rest were my second choice, losing only by a hair. Read, and enjoy:

Wet

by M

SIGH.
Really ?

This again

it never just rains
torrential downpours galore
FLOODS and MUDSLIDES and the sunken cars so deep

temperature pushes 70 in the North East
Snow, snow I get but it’s not snowing; it’s raining raining & raining
drip, drip, pitter, patter, whoosh whoosh whoosh, welcome to SPRINTER, not winter nor Spring
Is not normal people really, not normal: now I have to urinate really bad

—–

Toast to the Newlyweds: Climate Change and the Flat Earth

by Frank Hubeny

One (1)
and two (2)
then comes three, (3)
but climate change we (5)
all can see rhymes much worse than (7)
flat earth memes promoting free verse poetry. (11)

—–

Untitled

by Richmond Road

Gee
Can you see?
The living tree. On fire
Me. Just a bird on a wire
Half asleep. Flying backwards and so dreaming of forests long ago
Looking below. At another time. Branches to climb. Cut down in their prime.

—–

Untitled

by Doug Jacquier

The
bunyip’s
a legend
in Australia,
terrifying one and all.
A cross between emu and crocodile,
or a furry seal with terrible eyes and sharp teeth,
it preys on those unwary folk who stray near rivers and deep billabongs
venting its fury, like a giant platypus consuming an early lunch.

(Can’t post pics here unfortunately but you can see the products of some fervid imaginations if you search for ‘Bunyip pics’ in your browser.)

—–

Lustrum

by Not Pam

DOOM
Oh Man DOOM
Rain sleet floods pontoons
A burning inferno gloom
Where the hell is that air conditioned cold room?
TV on. Current affairs? Climate change? Dumb buffoons.

—–

Escape Plan

by Greg Glazebrook

Earth ֍ Mother ֍ Stick ‘em up! ֍ Gim’me all you got! ֍ Take, take, take, without a thought. ֍ Hands off the entire lot, it’s bloody well mine! ֍ I don’t care, leave it scorched, barren and beyond repair. ֍ In my rocketship, I’ll climb, leaving Mother Earth behind — Ciao suckas!!!

—–

True Story

by Jewish Young Professional

An
iceberg
breaks off of
Antarctica like
a star that the sky couldn’t keep
for herself, too weighted with water and gas,
leaving a hole sized like Greater London, but, good news,
“Not climate change,” the scientists say. But there’s other reason for alarm.

—–

Is it hot yet?

by Ruth Klein

Sweat
Slimy
Steamy land
Storms wild, childlike
Strength of nasty temps, up/down
Scientists mumble, stumble,
profess the doom
Stir up word muck throwing –
blankets piled or skin removed
Stay in the know, let the wind blow,
whatever rocks your boat, I
know right?

—–

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

Thank you, terrible poets. Head over here in March to see what the next prompt is!

Nitin: Here’s your slightly-inaccurate badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2023 The poets, and their respective poems.

It’s Prime Time for Climate Changes

Cli
mate change
My soul cries
While my Tesla dies
And my reusable shop
ping bags blow away and I watch them all stran
gle a seagull, with a leg trapped in my organic
free range non-GMO hand-picked renewable-source cotton sweater
vest. and socks. But I still cry for those magnificent eagles of the garbage.

©2023 Chel Owens

Photo by Vincent M.A. Janssen on Pexels.com

Written in response to the Terrible Poetry Contest for this month. I know you can do better! Results will post soon.

A Couple Ten Miles and Other Phrases What Gang Aft Agley

There’somm-un ’bout a colloqu’al phrase that sets my words to tryin’;
An’, somm-un ’bout how things are said
Thet sets my tongue a-tyin’.

Fer, much as I would like to lie an’ claim thet all I say is righ’,
It’s closer to an actule trufth
Tvat whut I say ain’t whut I wri’e.

See, down in Utah, ‘merica, we don’t’uve local sayings
So much as we ‘ave local fings
Whoseactule sound’s not staying:

Like, have you ever been down’ere and seen th’Rocky Moun’uns?
Or, said you fill the fillin’ of
A ‘the,’ an ‘a,’ a ‘fountain?’

There’somm-un ’bout a colloqu’al phrase that sets my words to tryin;’
An’, somm-un ’bout how things are said
Thet sets my tongue a’cryin’.

©2023 Chel Owens

Written in response to Doug’s Min Min Challenge: The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft agley (often go astray)

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

The Terrible Poetry Contest 1/7/2023

Hello to the new year, and to a new Terrible Poetry Contest!

Terrible poetry isn’t that difficult; hand an iambic pentameter to an eight-year-old and it’s done! Or… read here for a little more assistance.

Ready? Let’s get rolling with this month’s prompt. Excepting Obbverse’s excellent Christmas win, Geoff of TanGental won the last time round. He’s declared:

  1. Theme and Form
    The theme is climate change.
    The form is a syllabic poem in praise of Prime Numbers: 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 11,13, etc. This means your first line with have one syllable; the second will have two; the third, three; the fourth, five; etc.
  2. Length
    I’m not sure how long you can keep priming your numbers, so that sounds like the length is up to your tenacity.
  3. Rhyme?
    Up to you!
  4. Terrible!
    Scientists predict an unusual rise in terribleness, followed by scattered storms of painful prose.
  5. Rating
    Is the perfect storm that risqué? I’m sure Geoff’s good with wherever the wind takes you on this one.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST on Thursday, January 26 to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous until I post the results. The form hasn’t saved what you submitted unless you see a message saying it has.

Or, for a 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 pick of next contest’s theme and form.

—–

©2023 Chel Owens

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

WINNER of the Terrible Poetry Contest: CHRISTMAS 2022

Merry Christmas!!

But, we’re not here to unwrap presents! We’re here to read who won the terrible Christmas carol parody for the Terrible Poetry Contest of Christmas 2022!!

Rudolph The Blood Nose Reindeer. (The Mike Hammer/film noir version.)

by Obbverse

Between Dasher and Dancer and Prancer lay the victim,
Of all Santa holds deer, why had the killer picked him?
This had been no close call-
There was blood all over his stall.

Rudolph, the aforesaid reindeer
Was Santa’s snitch, everybody knows,
And everyone in the herd who saw it
Saw Rudy had the brownest nose.

All of the Brother reindeer
Used to laugh and call Rude names,
They chose and froze out Rudolph
From joining their Sled Pullers Union aims.

Then one foggy Christmas eve
Santa dropped by his spy to say
‘Rudolph, if I heard your story right
This Union mob ain’t haulin’ my sled tonight.’

That’s when all the reindeer kicked him,
They kicked Rudy all about with glee,
If you spill secrets to Santa I fear
You’ll star in your own Christmessy murder mystery.

—–

Congratulations? Obbverse! You are the most terrible caroler! If you’re comfortable doing so, shoot me an e-mail and I’ll send you your present!

Unlike other terrible poetry contests, the Christmas one is all about a distinct aspect that stands out -no matter how much the poet pokes fun at tropes, cliches, etc. Obbverse wrote a very clever, terrible (as in, wrong) song; so, hey! He wins!

Winner or ‘winner,’ poetry or ‘poetry,’ this is my favorite contest of all. I hope you enjoy reading them all:

Santa, My Baby Wants a Pony This Christmas*

by Ian Kay

San-ta! You’ll never get my pony
in your sack.
San-ta! It’s only gonna break
your back.
Why don-cha ride upon it in-stead?
Why, it could even pull your sled!

San-ta! You better take a diff-rent tack!
San-ta! I’m tellin’ ya a sure-fire hack!
Send it via US mail,
Then your back it will not fail.
San-ta! You’ll never get my pony in that sack!
San-ta! You’ll never get my pony in that sack!
(ad lib and fade)

*sung to the tune of Silent Night.

—–

Untitled

by Bruce Goodman

Silent cholesterol, stealthy cholesterol.
Chocolates and cream make things digestible
Around the table the family has sat
Eating the turkey and getting quite fat.
I’m really huffing and puffing
Trying to finish this stuffing.

Silent cholesterol, stealthy cholesterol.
It will make your heart arrestable.
Eat lots of butter, eat lots of cake,
Pig out on pies and nice pastry flake.
Like the turkey I’m totally stuffed.
Yet I can’t say that I’ve had enough.

—–

O, Climate Change (Sung to the tune of O Christmas tree)

by D Wallace Peach

O, climate change, O climate change
The mountain beetles dining
O, climate change, O climate change
The Christmas trees are dying

Your boughs, on fire in Summer-time
Stay charred and black in Winter’s rime
O climate change, O climate change
The plastic trees are thriving

O, climate change, O climate change
The mountain snow’s declining
O, climate change, O climate change
The reservoirs are drying

The blizzards land on arid plains
And flooding hits the coast again
O climate change, O climate change
Real Christmas trees nose diving

—–

Favorite Things, A Parody

by Herb

Butter on hot toast
And bacon a sizzlin’
Coffee pot perkin’
And drippin’ and drizzlin’
When my morning starts out with caloric flings
I’m thankful for some of my favorite things

Biscuits and gravy
And fritters and donuts
Are all so tasty
They just make me go nuts
Of pancakes and waffles and syrups I sing
For these are just some of my favorite things

There’s leftover lasagna
And pizza in fridges
And hot dogs and burgers
And Ruffles with ridges
Chocolate chip cookies from the oven they bring
Food is just some of my favorite things

When my doc nags
About my weight
It kinda makes me sad
It’s then I remember my favorite things
And I don’t care if I’m fat

—–

The teacher and the little dumber boy

by Doug Jacquier

Hey, you down there, yes, you, chewing your gum.
I see you down there and stop sucking your thumb.
What gift did you bring for me? Stop scratching your bum*!
To thank me for being kind and not telling your Mum
About sucking your thumb
And scratching your bum?
Is that all you brought, just a packet of gum?
Telling your Mum!

*Australian slang for backside, not a US king of the road type bum.

—–

Australian bloke’s Christmas

by Doug Jacquier

(I’ll spare you the usual build up)

On the twelfth day of Christmas
My girlfriend gave to me
Twelve budgie smugglers*
Eleven crafted beers
Ten shower gels
Nine armpit anti-smells
Eight shirts for wearing
Seven barbie* tools
Six steaks for sizzling
Five onion rings
Four kanga bangers*
Three chicken kebabs
Two token salads
And a bar fridge near the gum tree!

*Budgie smugglers – men’s underwear
*Barbie – barbecue
*Kanga bangers – Sausages made from kangaroo meat

—–

Untitled, To the tune of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”

by Frank Hubeny

I’ll be late for Christmas.
Please don’t count on me.
Keep your snow and mistletoe
and eggnog by the tree.

Christmas Eve the reindeer
ran away again.
I’ll be late for Christmas.
You might as well sleep in.

—–

Untitled, Sing to the Tune of ‘Jingle Bells’

by Not Pam‘s The Door People

Smashing Through Your Door
On A One Seat Open Fork
An Employee Of Yours
Driving Like A Dork
Bells On Our Phones Ring
Spirits Not So Bright
Your Roller Door Is On The Floor
And You Can’t Go Home Tonight
The Door People The Door People
Please Come And Fix Our Door
8445 8445 Great Service That’s For Sure
The Door People The Door People
Will Save You Once Again
8445 8445 You’ll Consider Us Your Friend

—–

Untitled

by Ordinary Person

Pum pum pum,
Pum pum pum,
Jingle Bell Rock
Oh I won’t trade it for a sock
Pum pum pum pum pum
Pum pum pum
That’s the jingle bell rock!

—–

Untitled

by John W. Howell

Dashing through the snow,
In our brand-new electric car.
Is there any way to know,
If it will carry us as far
As we really need to go.
The blinking red light gleams
On the panel made of glass
Might be trouble, so it seems
Sure wish we stuck with gas.

—–

Unjingled Bells

by Michael Fishman

Driving fast, driving hard, the cop is on my tail.
Gotta shake ‘em loose cuz I don’t wanna go to jail.

Oh!

Driving fast, driving hard, I’m pushing 90 now.
I wonder if I dare to pass that really slow snowplow?

I follow UPS,
and take the gifts he leaves.
I’m just another one
of those nasty Christmas thieves.

But this time I was seen,
by the cop just driving past,
and I’m not sure I’ll lose him
cuz I’m running out of gas.

Oh!

Driving fast, driving hard the cop’s still on my tail.
I don’t want to have to spend this Christmas Day in jail.

But-

I got caught, I got caught, I’m in Graybar Hotel
I’m sitting in a holding cell not feeling very well.

The lawyer said, “Don’t dread,
I’ll get you out tonight.
The only thing you have to do
is chill and just sit tight.”

It turned he was wrong,
and I’m sure you will agree,
with the judge who grinned when he sentenced me
and he threw away the key!

Oh!

Woe is me, misery, there’s nothing I can do.
I guess I should have thought before I stole those gifts from you.

Oh!

Ho, ho, ho, here I am, I’m on the prison bus
I’m wishing you a happy day and a very, very, merry Christmas.

(And New Year, too!)

—–

Two Teeth

by Ruth Scribbles

Everybody stops and stares at me
My two teeth are STILL HERE- oh say can you see?
I don’t know who’s at fault for this catastrophe
But my one wish on Christmas Eve is as plain as can be

All I want for Christmas is my two teeth OUT
My two teeth out
See my two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have my two teeth OUT
Then I’ll be the object of your pouting.

—–

A Slap Happy Christmas…

by Matt

It’is ya no “THAT” time of year
Left o’er, cheese starts; smelling
Eeryone yelling ” Yo!!! We ran outta beer”
the crap, crappiest, season ya, know

Wid those h’Omoerotic feelings and slaphappy greetings.
When fiends bring they’re damn kids who start to ball
it’s the crap crappiest seesawing ya know

dippers need changing
fur nature rearranging
and
wheel we wish you a crappy
Christmas
a Slap Happy Christmas
and a scrappy News year

Now take your squeeling kids
stinky limburger
sordid thoughts
and don’t come back
unless you bring us a case of beer
Marry Chris Mouse !!!!

—–

Photo by Marta Wave on Pexels.com

Merry merry Christmas, more so for the entertainment!

©2022 The poets, and their respective poems. Special thanks to Greg for the cool badge/logo:

The Terrible Poetry Contest: Special Christmas Special!!

We couldn’t let another year pass by without our sort-of annual tradition: the Terribly Poetry Contest, Christmas Special!!

Photo by Marta Wave on Pexels.com

Whenever our illustrious judge remembers to, we forget all rules of terribleness and simply have fun in the spirit of FUN.

  1. The theme is a parody of a Christmas song. We’re talking carols; like “Santa, Baby,” “All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth,” “Jingle Bell Rock,” “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer,” “Deck the Halls,” “Silent Night….”
    (But, for the love of all that’s holly, DO NOT use “Christmas Shoes” as your inspiration or I may be forced to send three spirits to keep you up all night.)
  2. The official length is as long as it takes you to poke fun at your carol before running out of ideas…
  3. Jingle bells, Batman smells; most songs rhyme so rhyme this time (if the original rhymes).
  4. Good King Wenceslas looked about, rocking around the Christmas tree, away in a manger of parody. Make us laugh, make us cry; mostly, give us something to look forward to this year.
  5. Finally, keep things child-appropriate. Christmas is about children, after all.

You have till 8:00 p.m. MST on Friday, December 23 to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous until I post the results. The form hasn’t saved what you submitted unless you see a message saying it has.

Or, for a 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 a physical Christmas gift in the mail from Chel.

—–

©2022 Chel Owens

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

Need some ideas? Inspiration? Try this contest, this poem, this contest, this contest, this contest, this contest, or this contest.

Said the husband as she burnt the ham
Do you smell what I smell?
(Do you smell what I smell?)
It’s charred, it’s charred; the oven’s all alight
With the men here to fi’re fight
With the men, here, to fi’re fight.
..

WINNER of the Terrible Poetry Contest 11/30/2022

November’s prompt for terribly poeming was brought to you by Jon of Missionary Sojourn, the winner of September’s contest. Jon suggested a clean limerick on lost and found. Without losing another minute, then, let’s find the one who limerick’d best:

Untitled

by TanGental

All hope’s gone, all is lost.
She loves me, she loves me nost.
I gave her flowers. a sort of red.
They had thorns, so she bled
Out. Now she’s a gost…

—–

Congratulations, TanGental! You are the most terrible poet this month! Let me know what theme and form we’re to use next time.

You may be wondering how I chose a winner out of such excellent entries. I’ll tell you: I don’t know. I’m also wondering how I picked, given that most entries tied for cleverness and included some distinctive element. I believe the winner won me over with that broken/continued line of ‘bled/out’ and with his terrible word choice.

Again; that’s not to say one should only read the winning entry. Peruse all the poetry, below, and see which is your favorite:

Grumpy

by RuthScribbles

There once was a grumpy old man
He lost his way to the can
He turned on the light
And had a huge fright
He’d found a coon and away he did ran

—–

Untitled

by Ian Kay

I’ve gone lost the end of my limerick
I didn’t know whether I’m dim or thick
I looked down the sofa
But nothin’ yet so far
So how will I finish this poem?

—–

Untitled

by Ian Kay

A man got a message, it read:
There’s something on the back of yer head!
He put his hand there
But only found hair
And that was the end of the thread

—–

Lost Meat

by John W. Howell

There once was a man from New York,
Who purchased two tons of dead pork.
He wished he had found,
Good beef that was ground.
But lost his chance to a quick dork.

—–

Larry the monkey

by Soberbunny

I once had a monkey named Larry,
He liked to bite and was hairy,
One day in the park,
He escaped after dark,
And now he belongs to Mary.

—–

Untitled

by Richmond Road

I was aimlessly fooling around
When I fell from my boat and then drowned
Deprived thus of breath
Woke in life after death
Simultaneously lost and yet found

—–

Untitled

by Doug Jacquier

There once was a man from Straya
As a walker he was a fair dinkum stayer
Went past the Black Stump and beyond it
Got lost, fell into a billabong, it
Was a shame his swimming was a failure.

Glossary
Straya – rendition of ‘Australia’ by many Australians, similar to Americans who live in ‘Mecca’
Fair dinkum – genuine
Black Stump – mythical far distant place where civilisation ends (along with American spelling) and the unknown begins
Billabong – an isolated pond left behind after a river changes course

—–

Untitled

by Frank Hubeny

There once was a writer of verse
Who got lost as his writing got worse.
He was found by the bay
Singing songs of dismay:
La-dee-loose la-dee-lease la-dee-terse

—–

Lost Cause

by Obbverse

Write a clean limerick, they promptly said!
But I’ve found clean limericks are rarely read,
A limerick ploughs common ground,
Within limericks innuendoes abound,
Something gets lost if cheeks ain’t left red.

—–

A Boy Named Luck

by Greg

There once was a boy named Luck
Whose folks didn’t give a… HOOT.
“Go jump off da pier
‘n don’t come back ‘roun’ere!”
But they didn’t have that kinda luck.

—–

The Ring

by Greg

He brought out the champagne with a blush,
“Bottoms up!” It was down in a rush.
Before he could sing,
She’d swallowed the ring,
Now they gather to scrutinize each flush.

—–

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Thank you, terrible poets. Come back at the beginning of January to learn what the new prompt will be!

Geoff: Here’s your slightly-inaccurate badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2022 The poets, and their respective poems. Special thanks to Greg for the cool logo I used as our featured image!

Terrible Poetry: Lost Limerick

I never can find mi loosed stuff
Cuz loosed stuff is finding is tuff
So instead i just right
something thats not write
And forget i ever lost my basal ganglia.

©2022 Chel Owens

Ah, I couldn’t help it. You should write something even better for the Terrible Poetry Contest; it supposedly ends on the 30th, but I hear the judge isn’t exactly on top of things this week and you’ll not hear about a winner till Saturday…

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com