The Terrible Poetry Contest

Welcome, one and all, to the weekly Terrible Poetry Contest!

What in the heck is terrible poetry? You could ask half the internet or even half the published poets out there. You could look over the first explanation I ever gave, here. Or, you could sneeze into a hanky and add anachronistic adjectives.

Ready to roll?

  1. Topic: A sonnet about a period/historical romance. Sonnets are love poems. Period romances are love stories that take place in the past, and somehow still work even though the lovers lacked toothpaste.
  2. Length: A sonnet. You’ve fourteen lines of a specific rhyming pattern (see below) of three quatrains followed by a couplet. The sort of people who run terrible poetry contests are not sticklers for rules, however, so you can get away with one paragraph that might rhyme.
  3. Rhyming: Yes. The first and third lines of each quatrain are supposed to rhyme, plus the final couplet. Near-rhymes or too many rhymes are an easy way to terrible-ify a poem.
  4. Simply make it terrible! Send Shakespeare shivering. Wake Wordsworth! Kick Keats into Conniptions. Send your lover such awful endearments that he or she wonders if you’ve fallen off the balcony a few too many times.
  5. Rating: PG or cleaner. Inappropriate behavior didn’t exist in the past, after all!
From WikiHow

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Thursday (January 27) 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. 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 week’s topic and type of poem.

From Pixabay

—–

©2022 Chel Owens

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 12/21/2021

Your family may need to add these new holiday favorites to their Christmas playlist, because it’s time to announce the winner of the Terrible Poetry Contest.

And that is:

Ye Hairy Gentlemen

by Greg Glazebrook

On the twelfth day of Christmas
She’ll drive a holly stake through your heart…

Cut, cut, I think we’d be safer taking this in a different direction?

doG blessed ye hairy gentlemen
You’ll be warm on this very day
Remember that the rest of us
Will be frozen until May
With razor blades we’ll come for you
And shave it all away
O shavings of back hair and Bengay

We’ll stuff the clipping into bags
And ship them on their way
To far-off Nike sweatshops
In Hong Kong and Bombay
Where they’ll stitch them all together
With labels that say “Made in U.S.A.”
O tidings from Tài Sǔn and Ganmay

And when those man-hair sweaters
Arrive upon our shores
We’ll click on over to Amazon
And buy them by the scores
We’ll wrap them up for Christmas gifts
And cold, we’ll be no more
O tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

Damn these things are scratchy,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night…

—–

Congratulations, Greg! You are the most terrible poet of this holiday season!

I sat and hummed through every terrible entry. As is usual, I had a difficult time choosing just one. In the end, Greg’s parody won me over with its creativity, its terribleness, and its cleverness. I can’t say I’ve ever heard a carol about man-hair sweaters.

Now, turn off that Mariah Carrey and tune in to what these other, excellent songwriters came up with:

Poopy Christmas

by Bruce Goodman

The news it came out in the first year of Biden
The cupboards were bare and the truckers were hiding
Jen Psaki declared, “Let them eat buns”
To which the President added a whole lot of ums.

Christmas hell oh Christmas hell
Sing a Christmas Gloria
Bringing crumbs to all the world
But peace to those with gender dysphoria.

—–

Deck the House

by trentpmcd

Deck the house with big bright lights
Falalalala, lalalala
People will drive miles to see these sights!
Falalalala, lalalala
Now turn on reactor three
Falala, lalala, la-la-la
A billion megawatts just for me!
falalalala-la-la, la-la-la
***
Visible from Betelgeuse
Falalalala, lalalala
A thousand years of electric use
Falalalala, lalalala
I show off just once a year
Falala, lalala, la-la-la
With a trillion lights of holiday cheer!
falalalala-la-la, la-la-la

—–

OH WHAT A HOLY NIGHT

by Matt Snyder

Oh Holy night
Late December back in 5 B.C.
Circular things in the sky are bright you see?
Oh Holy night
In the manger was born what’s his name?
Ya know the Spanish kid, no I don’t mean the goat…the kid
Hey-Suess yeah him, this Holy night
Why is it taking so long to see the light?
OH ho ho ho holy night
I’ve fallen and I can’t get up
I think I sprained my knee-eeees
Oh right, on time
What a sweet baby, oh what a holy night
Oh? I said his name wrong!
Oh hear……Everyone shouting
Yout idiot, you tool!
You need to go back to biblical school
Oy Vey! What a night!

—–

Untitled piece
To “Happy Christmas, war is over” by John Lennon and Yoko Ono

by Hobbo

And so, a Jolly Christmas for all shades of LGBTQIA
Which it will be all day long
(Covid is over if you wear a mask)
For the straights and the not-so-straights
(If you want sprouts, just ask.)

A super-duper Christmas
with mulled wine and warm, cloudy beer
If you see three wise men looking lost
The Star pub is over here.

—–

THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY AND HIS HELL HOUNDS

by Definitely Not Pam

Come they told him,
Have some rumma rum rum.

There’s no good to do,
Let’s have some funna fun fun.

Bring your hell hounds along
For a runa run run

We’ll set them on the king
It’s sure to stunna stun stun
Ruma stun stun
Funna stun stun

He’ll get diahorea
Stinky bumma bum bum
When we come

Rums rum rum,
Opps funna fun fun
Runna run run
Opps stunna stun stun
Bumma bum bum
Dunna dun dun
Rumma fun run stun opps dun

Oh what fun
Tiggles my tumma tum tum
I’m just poor Hades,
Oh humma hum hum

What gift for him?
Thruma thrum thrum thrum
It’s gotta be good for the King’s
Tumma tum tum

I know I’ll play for him
Strumma strum stum
Thruma thrum thrum
Numma numb numb

Oh you look scared
Opps gumma gumma gum
The hell hounds like the scent of fear
What a humma hum hum

I’ll play my drum for you
Don’t look so glumma glum glum
I’ll play thrash metal for you
Oh slumma slum slum
Glumma glum glum
Humma hum hum

Oh don’t freak out
It’s not a scruma scrum scrum
It’s just me, the hellhounds and my drum

Come they told him
Have some more rumma rum rum
You’ll wish you were never born
You better learn to runna run run

It’s just me, the hellhounds and my drum
It’s just me, the hellhounds and my drum
It’s just me, the hellhounds and my drum
Isn’t this so much fun

©NopeNot Pam

—–

Untitled Piece
Wham’s “Last Christmas”

by Geoff LePard

Last Christmas
You let go a fart
Full of rot and decay, I near passed away
This year
Your disgusting rear
Has been truly exceptional…

—–

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Mechula.*

by Obbverse

(OK, let the old chestnuts get a’roasted. Michael Bublé, you’re up.)

It’s beginning to look like I’m insolvent,
Where’d my cash flow go?
Down to my last 5 and 10, my credits maxed out again,
Oh, the painful amount of IOUs I owe.

I’m beginning to wish I’d not seen loan shark Carmine,
Now all hell will start,
And da brass knuckles he will bring will make my head fair ring,
Then he’ll rip out my heart.

A pair o’ brutes in ill-fitting suits with pistols that shoot,
It’s Carmine’s repo-hit men,
Dey say ‘Carmine wants to talk, let’s take a walk.’
But I daren’t say ‘willkommen,’
I’m not mad nor dumb or fool enough to open this door again.

It’s beginning to look like I won’t make Christmas,
My debts Carmine won’t ignore,
What an ugly sight it is to see some thug pounding heavily
On my barred and bolted door.

*Bankruptcy, Yiddish.

—–

Grandchild Was Invaded By an iPhone

by Ruth Klein

my grandchild was invaded by her iphone
walking home from school, would you believe?
you can say that iphones don’t possess one
and as for me and grandpa, we do grieve

she’d been watching too much youtube
and we’d begged her- please, stop, please
so addicted to the boob tube
that she began to bow down on her knees

everyone now sing…..

—–

Sale! The Yearly Christmas Call
Sung to the tune of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”

by D. Wallace Peach

Sale! The yearly Christmas call
Shoppers flocking to the mall
Carts careen through crowded aisles
Cash and credit reconciled

Frantic all ye lists are waving
Budgets set already caving
Wrap those presents for the tree
Run out of tape, oh woe is me
Wrap those presents for the tree
I need tape, oh woe is me

Feed the crew from out of town
Baking cookies past sundown
Table’s set and goose is done
Spilled the gravy, so much fun

Dinner’s gone in seconds flat
Cooked all day and barely sat
Washing dishes like a maid
Boy, I wish my job was paid
Scrubbing dishes like a maid
How I wish this job was paid

Football’s on, the offense crouched
Husband’s slouched upon the couch
Cat’s in the tree, and globes are smashed
Kids are bored, the house is trashed

Hail the end of Christmas Day
When the kindred drive away
Flip the cap and swig a beer
Pooped out from another year
Take a nap and get in gear
New Year’s Eve is almost here.

—–

Untitled Piece
to the tune of “I wish you a Merry Christmas”

by John W. Howell

I wish you a monster isthmus
I wish you a monster isthmus
I wish you a monster Isthmus
Until you lose weight.

Glad tidings will be not only for me
Glad tidings will be not only for me
Glad tidings will be not only for me
You may spot your feet

Oh, turn down the figgy pudding
Oh, turn down the figgy pudding
Oh, turn down the figgy pudding
And lose a whole chin

We are not leaving till we get some
We are not leaving till we get some
We are not leaving till we get some
Melba toast is a win

—–

Untitled piece
from Frankie, the fictional one-eyed post mistress of Carrot Ranch who delivers mail on horseback:

by D. Avery

Burt an’ me we travel so far
Deliverin’ mail with no van or car
He’s a sturdy strong horse
Keeps us mostly on course
In these parts we’re without par
*
Packages too many ta count
But I can trust Burt, my loyal mount
We sweat an’ shiver
But always deliver
With time ta Saddle Up unannounced
*
Oh bartender I wonder if you might
Reward me for my work tonight
I delivered a song
After a day so long
But at the Saloon I’m feelin’ alright.”

—–

O Holy Grail

by Writing to Freedom (musebrad)

O holy grail, thy will always prevail
our faithful attempts to pursue the American dream
race to the mall or find solace in an aie
married to a destructive consumer regime
on Macy’s, on Kohl’s, to the mall we go
for shopping is the holy grail we know
~
fall on your knees before the corporate pleas
o holy grail, o holy grail
for thee, we must never fail

—–

The Little Bummer Boy

by anxietyoholic

COVID they told me!
Ra bum bum bum bum

Contacts to trace, you see?
Ra bum bum bum bum

Say Hello to Quarantine
Ra bum bum bum bum

Disinfect and clean, clean, clean
Ra bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bummmmmmm

So to mask or not
Ra bum bum bum bum

I wish a vac I got
Ra bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bummmmmmm

I am a poor boy too
Ra bum bum bum bum

Just like that other dude
Ra bum bum bum bum

So I’ll get hydroxychloroquine
Ra bum bum bum bum

And be OK like him
Ra bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bummmmmmm

It’s all fake news he said
Ra bum bum bum bum

800 thousand dead
Ra bum bum bum bum

I was as brave as he
Ra bum bum bum bum

Look where that’s gotten me
Ra bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bummmmmmm
Ra bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bummmmmmm

—–

Thank you all and Merry happy Christmas.

Greg: Here’s the honorary badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2021 The poets, and their respective poems.

The Terrible Poetry Contest, Class of ’20 Reunion

There’s something about Christmas that sets our Scrooge-like minds to soft, sentimental musings.

Such has been the state of my mind, in absence of an annual tradition no home should be without: the Terrible Poetry Contest.

Inspired by Greg, the cousin of Jacob Marley*, I’ve decided to unearth my Ghost of Christmases Past for just one week. Not sure to which phantoms I refer? Click here, Ebenezer. Not sure what a terrible poem might be? Look here, Mr. Scrooge.

Welcome to the Terrible Poetry Contest, Holiday Edition 2021.

  1. Topic: A parody of a Christmas song. You’ve been listening to them since November 1st, whether you wanted to or not. Now, show those Christmas shoes and Dashers/Dancers and 12 Days of headache just how you feel.
  2. Length: A couple stanzas. Or, just one. You choose. (If you choose every. single. verse. of 12 Days, however, you shall be boiled with your own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through your heart.)
  3. Rhyming: Obviously. These are song parodies. You’d better rhyme!
  4. Oh; for the love –Make it terrible! Mismatch the song’s meter. Schmaltz up the message to the extreme. Cliché the heck out of it. If you aren’t visited by all three of the Christmas spirits, plus Michael Bublé’s record label lawyers -pleading with you to just stop, for the love of all that’s holly and ivy; just stop!– then you’re not trying hard enough.
  5. Rating: PG or cleaner. The children are listening!

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Monday (December 20) 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.

As always, have fun. Spread the word. Spread the joy.

red volkswagen beetle scale model

Untitled piece

by D. Wallace Peach

Sung to the tune of We Three Kings

We three drunks of the neighborhood bar
Pounding shots we daren’t drive the car
Bloody Mary, beer and brandy
Oh my gosh, I’m seeing stars

Bourbon, I love you, high as a kite
Bar with a mirror lit up so bright
To the gutter leading, hope I’m not bleeding
Guide us to thy Michelob Light

Chicken wings, my mouth is on fire
Give me a pint to douse the hot pyre
Drunks forever, barfing never
Karaoke carols join the choir

Oh-ohhhh, bar of wonder, bar of blight
Bar of cocktails, blurry-eyed sight
Olives and cherries, I’m feeling merry
Cheers to a tipsy Christmas night!

—–

©2021 Chelsea Owens

*Greg is not actually Jacob Marley’s cousin.

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 6/30/2021

Better late than never, here is the winner of the last A Mused Poetry Contest before my annual summer sabbatical! Which amazing poet encapsulated eccentricity the best? (Warning, for those who are prudish, to skip this one 😀 )

Untitled, by Matt Snyder
Hi twiddily Dee hi twiddily Doe
I prance about and give it a go
Wearing nothing but
a well placed sock down below
my backside and top bits bask
about in a moonlit glow

hi diddle Dee hi diddle Dee do
with top hat and monocle
and a touch of class
How dare you speak of my big fat
ask me now I say to thee
I am but a man full of dignity
of Grace of flair
who cares if my sock is my frontal
Underwear

A middle e and a middle o
like a great cat’s meow
I must go
but not first without
leaving you with a taste of my riches
I remove my sock
to reveal my delicious
solid gold coc….
Sorry gotta keep
the end PG
for the poetry Mrs 😉

Congratulations, Matt! You are the funniest poet for the month!

From such a talented pool of writers, Matt’s poem stuck out to me …erm, that is- it pushed ahead… hm. Let’s just say I laughed the most, shall we?

Eccentricity’s a tough one to define, but not so tough to write cleverly about -at least for these poets:

Moon Dancing, by Frank Hubeny
The night sky is clear and the full moon is bright.
It’s nutty I know but I’ll dance in its light.
The moon doesn’t care. “Yes, I do.” Well, so what?
“You’re nutty enough.” No, I ain’t. “You’re a nut.”

An Eccentrics Guide To Lightening Up / Or; Go With The Flow, by Obbverse
A rare precious few view me as being one of a kind,
Far more as possessed of a most peculiar singular mind,
One gloomy psychiatrist classified me as slightly neurotic,
A better one called me, far more politely, simply quixotic.

Some call me eccentric, but that ain’t fair,
I prefer to think I think outside the square,
Others say my view on reality is a tad murky,
They say I’m ‘way out there,’ I’d say ‘quirky.’

The true eccentric is hard to define,
The clued-up eccentric rides a fine line,
It’s best to keep eccentricities on the down low;
Tone it down bro, or up to Bellvue you’re bound to go.

Some admit they think outside the box,
I don’t… wish to submit to electric shocks,
So, Doc, if eccentricity’s in the eye of the beholder
Just call me quietly eccentric- I don’t wanna smoulder.

Pickin’ a winner, by Michael Fishman
I feel an urge!
There’s something to purge!

I can’t tell it’s size
without a poke and a prise.

Is it soft as a sock
or as hard as a rock?

I won’t know a where, a what or a why
until I reach in and wiggle and try.

~~~~

I pick my nose.
And so it goes.

What’s that you ask?

Well —

It was yellow and green
it was curled up and dried;
and if I ate it or not
is up to you to decide.

I know it’s kind of gritty,
my slightly odd eccentricity.
And though it’s not so pretty,
I hope you won’t dismiss-a-me

Shopping Al Fresco, by Hobbo
When shopping for food
She always went nude,
A decision eccentric, if rash,
But the girl was no fool
And though sometimes cool,
She was never again stuck for cash.

—–

I plan to continue the contest once I return. Enjoy your summer (or winter) in the meantime!

Matt, here’s the slightly inaccurate badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2021 The poets, and their respective works

The A Mused Poetry Contest 5/29/2021 – 6/26/2021

It’s, once again, way past time for our A Mused Poetry Contest. Better late than never!

  1. The Theme is a silly poem about an unusual eccentricity. In my ‘free time’ that is completely nonexistent, I’ve (still) been ploughing through In Search of the English EccentricFoibles, personal oddities, and strange collections abound.
  2. I recommend keeping the poem’s Length to fewer than 200 words, but who am I to suppress a slightly mad creative mind?
  3. I also recommend Rhyming but see the caveat, above.
  4. Rating: PG-13. Some eccentrics delve into less …acceptable behaviors of a less modest nature. If you wish to rhyme about such a one as this, allusions will be your friend.
  5. Above all, maintain a sense of levity. An unusual dignity, yes; but humor as well!

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next MONTH (June 26) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to retain anonymity until results are posted.

Otherwise, include your poem in the comments, link to it in the comments, or leave a note that you’ve written one and stuck it on your own site in the comments. You cannot just link back to my post because WordPress is stupid and I will not receive it.

—–

—–

©2021 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 5/14/2021

The results of this month’s contest are a titch late, due to the family all coming down with colds. Believe you me: nothing takes the amusement out of amusing poetry like not sleeping nor feeling well.

But, we’re here to talk about politics! Who, among the entrants, came up with the funniest campaign promises?

A Sitting Member, by Bruce Goodman
A vote for me is a vote for wit
The other candidates are a pile of nonsense.

I promise I will never quit
The other candidates are a pile of rubbish.

My policies will be a hit
The other candidates are a pile of drivel.

I will lower your taxes a bit
The other candidates are a pile of gobbledygook.

You might think I’m a git
The other candidates are a pile of malarkey.

Congratulations, Bruce! You are once again the funniest poet for the week!

Bruce won for some sort of reference to some sort of word that seems to be missing as part of this rhyme. Well done.

And, well done to the others! Read them over and decide if they’re worth the vote:

Brief Campaign Announcement, by Frank Hubeny
It doesn’t matter, blue or red.
Vote as you will, alive or dead.
We own what counts, both big and small.
We’ve voted for you after all.

Truth Over Facts, by Dumbestblogger
No one pays a dime
Peace will reign sublime
Children will be fine
We will fix the clime
And you’ll be happy

Campaign Disaster, by RuthEK
There once was a campaign disaster-

When she said “I’ve heard nasty chatter”

The politician turned red

And said with some dread

That’s chatter that just doesn’t matter

—–

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Come back tomorrow for the next month’s prompt!

Bruce, here’s that ol’, inaccurate badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2021 The poets, and their respective works

The A Mused Poetry Contest 4/17/2021 – 5/14/2021

It’s past time for another A Mused Poetry Contest. I blame the management. And aliens.

  1. This month’s Theme is a political campaign slogan and/or speech. You’ve heard the usual promises, mud-slinging, and appeals to special interest groups -now, USE THEM.
  2. Gone are the days of the Lincoln/Douglas debates; keep your poem’s Length brief and snappy enough to… oh, man; you’ve already lost the audience.
  3. Rhyming is up to your campaign manager.
  4. This will be broadcast to general audiences, so keep the Rating clean -or, at least realize that some ****ing ****s will be censored.
  5. What’s most important? HUMOR! When do we want it? By next month!

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next MONTH (May 14) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to keep your record clean until results are posted.

Otherwise, include your poem in the comments, link to it in the comments, or leave a note that you’ve written one and stuck it on your own site in the comments. You cannot just link back to my post because WordPress is stupid and I will not receive it.

—–

Photo by Aaron Kittredge on Pexels.com

—–

©2021 Chel Owens

WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 3/16/2021

I almost didn’t make it today, but knew someone might be waiting on pins and needles to see just what sort of product one really should not purchase.

The winners who created the funniest commercial jingles are:

Untitled, by Bruce Goodman
Use our washing powder
To make chowder
It’ll clean up your guts
With no ifs or buts.

Camptown Ice-cream, by Doug Jacquier
What’s the best ice-cream in town?
Rhubarb, rhubarb.
Forget that fat old chocolate chip
Rhubarb, rhubarb
Make you run all night, make you run all day
When Mama says ‘what flavour?’, kids say everyday
Rhubarb, rhubarb!

Congratulations, Bruce and Doug! You are the funniest poets for the week!

I could not decide on a straight-out winner, so I blame my stomach for this decision. Who would agree to clean his guts with soap? What person wants to spoon rhubarb into her bowl? Craziness!

Now, please do not reach for the phone after hearing about the rest of these products:

Untitled, by Vishal D
Cute, cuddly Gremlins
Get your fluffy Gremlins
They will eat you up
with their warmth
And then look with
mischievous eyes
And sympathise with
your cries
Cute, cuddly Gremlins
Soft, furry Gremlins

Untitled, by Ian Kay
Lap cushions, lap cushions,
they don’t look half bad
put them on your fronts
if they make your backs mad!
(voiceover: matching colors and fabrics are available!)

Untitled, by Richmond Road
Are your children of an age
That’s driving you insane?
Doing things you used to do
Things you can’t explain?
Reacting to those hormones
That you wish that you still had
Taking an eternity
To traverse a passing fad?
The solution is so simple
Let us take them off your hands
Don’t let them anymore disturb
Your sweet retirement plans
Let us do the dirty work
Let us make the golden rules
Enrol your little darlings
In our exclusive boarding schools

($100,000 per annum. No questions asked. Or answered)

The newest free range breakfast food, by Doug Jacquier
Hungry, need a fix?
Weedy Bix!
Just eat five or six
Weedy Bix!
eating green’s so easy
Weedy Bix!
Weedy, weedy, Weedy Bix.

Da doo rum gum, by Doug Jacquier
When you’re at a party and the bar is dry
Chew new Booze Gum, chew new Booze Gum
You’ll be feeling tipsy in the blink of an eye
Chew new Booze Gum, chew new Booze Gum
Comes in gin, rum, whiskey and rye
Chew new Booze Bum, chew new Booze Gum

Untitled, by Frank Hubeny
Lazy daisy, gender hazy,
riot gear to drive you crazy.

Kitty-cobra, by Trent McDonald
Are you a dull bore
And make kitty snore
Buying for your cat
A stupid rubber rat
Or you think for fun
Sprinkle some catnip and you’re done?

Get some come-hithers
And buy the toy that slithers!
A mechanical snake
It doesn’t look fake!
Is the toy that’s fitten
To give your kitten!

Kitty-cobra, Kitty-cobra
Will the fun never end?
Kitty-cobra, Kitty-cobra
Your cat’s new best friend!

A Timekeeping Bargain, by Hobbo
A pain in the crotch
Life, where does it go?
With our time travel watch
You can go fast, or slow.

Set it to your own pace,
Even temporary stop.
The deluxe, will retrace,
So your clogs never pop.

Non Voyage, by Obbverse
‘Before you book that holiday apartment,
A message from the State Department-
Forget stayin’ in Paree, forgo Rome,
Let’s not fly, let’s stay home’

Madam, your passport has expired,
New detailed documentation is required,
We now demand, after your vacation
Proof positive of a Covid vaccination.

‘Before you take that holiday apartment
Please listen to the State Department,
Pass on Paris, nix to Rome
Don’t spread your wings, stay home.’

Before you’re welcome back from overseas
W’ll check you out for that spread disease,
We can’t just freely stamp that new passport,
Why risk making a happy holiday your last resort?

No Clue, by Ruth Scribbles
She wanted a jingle of sale 🏷
For things that would send you to jail 🙃
My brain could not think 🧠
Of what would not stink 💩
And this is my try just to fail 🙄

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Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

Come back tomorrow for the next month’s prompt!

And, Bruce and Doug, here’s a badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2021 The poets, and their respective works

The A Mused Poetry Contest 3/16/2021 – 4/16/2021

It’s definitely time for another A Mused Poetry Contest. I hope you’ve been honing your poetic skills for this one…

  1. The Theme is a catchy jingle for a product that really should not be sold to the general public.
  2. Commercials pay by air time used, so keep your Length short, sweet, and repeat-able.
  3. Rhyming is optional, but recommended. The most memorable ditties usually do.
  4. This isn’t PPV, so aim for a Rating of TV-PG or cleaner.
  5. The most important angle here, chairmen of the board, is humor. What makes our audience laugh? What will make them snort up their diet soft drink all over their luxury sofa and soil that designer pair of celebrity-endorsed trousers? Hmmm?

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next MONTH (April 16) to submit a poem. I’ll try to remember, this time.

Use the form, below, to remain anonymous until results are posted.

Otherwise, include your poem in the comments, link to it in the comments, or leave a note that you’ve written one and stuck it on your own site in the comments. You cannot simply link back to my post because WordPress is stupid and I will not receive it.

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I’ve set the date
Now I can’t wait.
Write us a poem,
Then you’ll feel great!

Try to make your commercial more interesting than whatever they just watched.
Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

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©2021 Chel Owens