Stuie made one good decision: Sadje.
Smoking, drinking, and sneaking into radioactive facilities were not good decisions.
Worst was writing Sadje out of the will.
“All’s fair in love and…” He died.
Sadje tore the will; took the trailer. She loved it.
©2021 Chel Owens
I blame Deb, and her 42 Words prompt for this week: WAR.
Either we’re all feeling especially creative, or we’re all stuck inside our toilet paper forts with too much time on our hands. Not that I’m complaining, but this week’s judging took longer than usual because I received so many entries!
Which doesn’t mean there isn’t a winner. This week, it’s:
by Tnkerr
They panicked the public with talk of the virus
The butcher was worried – his name was Cyrus
One night, when the store closed
He took all the bog rolls
Went home and confessed to a scroll of papyrus. A scroll of papyrus that he used as his journal and sometimes hid in the linen closet – on the top shelf under a bunch of pillow cases, unless he was keeping it under the bed, or in the garage; but then the police found it and he was arrested, went to court and got sent to jail… not for very long though (it was only toilet paper, after all)
-AND-
by Deb Whittam
bread, butter,
don’t care about the clutter
egg, cheese
oh, thank god a sneeze
I don’t want that terrible, low mortality, not as bad as the flu which has a vaccine and still kills more people but does not invoke stupidity, panic buying and food hoarding, disease
Congratulations, Tnkerr and Deb! You are the most terrible poets of the week!
These two won for their trick of expanding out that last line to terrible proportions, after poeming so spot-on and terribly about hoarding. They (and a couple others) stood out for using this element to make their contributions worse, particularly since everyone’s poems are so terrible this week they are quite good!
Give yourself a lift, and read through them all:
by Heather Dawn
While some are hoarding by the ton,
Others find no way to wipe their bum.
Trauma horrifying!
Dirty bottoms multiplying!
Someone please, help me find some!!
—–
Hours before Armageddon
Down shopping aisles carefully treadin’
Just fillin’ my trolly
Promotin’ the folly
It’s not tears, it’s just fears that I’m spreadin’
—–
Apocalypse on the horizon
Those toilet rolls so tantalizin’
A prize for the greedy.
No regard for the needy
It is mad. Sad. But so unsurprisin’
—–
by Obbverse
We’re stuck in quarantine for a fortnight,
Our essential supplies are running light,
‘Nuff food and water ain’t our issue,
We failed to stock a pile of toilet tissue;
We’ve gone from sittin’ pretty to sittin’ tight.
—–
There once was a store by the lee
That was fully stocked for everyone’s needs.
It had boondaggles, hoozits and comic sans font;
It had everything a lad or lass could possibly want!
But alas, it had one failing short: no toliet paper, so I’ll use me shirt.
—–
by Lucy
“It is the end of the world”, someone chokes; there is a lull.
Stockpiling food for twenty years and toilet paper rolls,
But we’re all out—what do we do
Go out to Walmart, brawl with others like a zoo;
Then leave empty handed—outside, someone is selling them one hundred dollars per half roll!
—–
The world is facing disaster
So stock up on tuna and pasta
Cache rolls for the loo
Store sanitising goo
And ensure your wine cellar’s vaster.
—–
Go on, kiss everyone in sight
Before we all fall down to the blight
Forget all that tucker
And give us a pucker
But clench your other end real tight.
—–
There’s a man in DC called The Pres
He t-wee-ts, he pooh-poohs, and he says
It’s all something minor
Like everything from China
A few less old folk, who cares?
—–
by Jon
Whoever could guess we would see
Fell days we could liken to these?
When we needed to go
But we found there was no
longer a supply of T.P.
—–
Things to use to wipe your bum?
The number reaches quite a sum –
But lettuce leaf?
I’ll be brief …
Result not good, don’t tell my mum …
—–
by Bryntin
There are empty shelves down at the store
idiots crashing their carts by the door
I would have been late
till I pulled out the 38
now there’s great stocks of bodies on their floor
—–
by Bryntin
I’m getting a few extra things in
lots of meat and beans if they’re tinned
it was quite busy down there
until I coughed in the air
and the crowds miraculously thinned
—–
by Bryntin
I’ve got my mask on so I’ll be OK,
got my sanitiser and various sprays
got my loo roll and lentils
and ammo to shoot mentals
should be alright for a couple of days
—–
Poverty makes stockpiling a farce
In some places it can’t come to pass
Money’s really much to tight
Sickness an everyday fight
No loo paper; we’ll just use grass
—–
If we’re sick we’re supposed to isolate
not a concept to which the poor can relate
When you live in a small tin roofed shack
and water and basic amenities you lack
an out of control virus will just devastate
—–
by Matt Snyder
Bob has a bad case of the super awful really terrible squirt runs on the daily
With this unheard of shortage of TP, his drawers are becoming quite smelly
He just spent his last $500 bucks for a measly two mega rolls online
His package has arrived in the nick of time
too bad though that when he opened the box, it was alas, EMPTY…
—–
***PG-13 Warning***
With a P-51 and a stash of old food,
One can hold out in style, lighten the mood.
But you’ll still feel alone
With no one to bone,
So be sure to bring tissues and lube.
—–
by Geoff LePard
‘It’s a risk,’ said the serial hoarder,
‘And I might cause civil disorder,
Buy buying up Frosties,
And making you crossties,
So maybe I’ll stick to cornflakes.’
Or
To hoard takes three things: there’s pluck
And a significant dollop of luck,
But between me and you
On top of those two
Is you really must not give a fig (other soft fruits are available until some silly sod has bought them all)
—–
I.
I thought this world crisis was a bit of a caper
and soon the long lines for goods would taper
but when I still go the store
there’s always so many more
all I’ve got left to eat is my stack of loo paper
II.
Due to the virus Bill hoarded beans
as stacks of them were within his means
but after eating so many cans
his butt alone could power vans
and he had to frequently wash his jeans
—–
by Ritu Bhathal
A man in a fit of elation
Stockpiled like the rest of the nation
Well, bog roll he had
But it left him quite sad
When all the pasta gave him constipation!
—–
by Denny K
Co vid one nine
Is no friend of mine
I am quite a mess
Feeling the stress
Of social distance in the TP line
—–
by Ellen Best
There was a a wee lass from Madrass
Who needed paper to wipe up her ass.
She looked in a shop ran around the block
Finally settled on her grandpappies sock.
Boom boom.
—–
Hoarding of stuff is tremendous
Mountains of things, stupendous
Toilet paper for me
And nothing for thee
The feeling is awesome, momentous
—–
by Kristian
I thought I’d try a Limerick,
It sounded fun, a lark, a kick,
but please take my advice
and always think twice
because now I’m feeling quite sick.
—–
by Gary
Shelves stripped bare including the Gluten free
Load your boot with every single last frozen pea
You can keep your 10 year supply of toilet roll
Fill your trolley with all the Chicken casserole
But keep your pigging hands off my Yorkshire Tea
—–
by Ilene
To avoid all the germs in the store
Gladys ate a bluebird and a boar
She washed down that pig
With an isolated swig
That socially infected her snout with a stout.
***PG-13 Warning.***
Traffic was so light yesterday
Officer Joe met his mistress to play
But his wife had a fever
And before he could leave her
He’d slipped his virus in her beaver.
—–
Thank you so much for brightening my week. I trust you had as much fun writing as I did reading. Come back tomorrow for next week’s prompt; we’ve got a potentially long road yet of more internet time together.
Tnkerr and Deb: Here’s a badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:
©2020 The poets, and their respective poems.
Hi. This is the part where I say, “Hi,” and mention that this is our 63rd time around the terrible poetry track.
Here is where I give some directions. I still like our mishmash of sources contest, à la Ern Malley, for a way to create terribly as well. Really, the trick is to write like you’ve never been taught how to do poetry.
Here are the specifics for this week:
You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (March 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 comment if your pingback link doesn’t show up within a day.
Now’s the perfect time for levity. Give it a whirl.
There once was a dino named Ptery
Who loved to eat tree stars and berries.
Then, out of the blue,
Ptery saw rocks that flew;
Now, Ptery is becoming an evolutionary.
Youth, untried, stands blinking into the equatorial sun. It shuffles awkward spears; tilts dented shields.
Two thousand feet nervously stamp the earth.
Their leader looks upon his neophyte army. “What say ye, my sons; will ye go against them to battle?”
Two thousand of them have never fought. Two thousand just left home. Two thousand eager voices cry, “Our God is with us! Let us go!”
Thus they march, thus they go, thus they draw their spears. The enemy, surprised, falls beneath their untrained arms.
The leader, awed, counts two thousand. “How came ye by your courage?”
“Our mothers.”
