WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

I may have to wash my eyes after reading these, but -WOW!- what a turnout of terrible poems! After much uncomfortable squirming, guilty laughter, and deliberation; I have chosen a victor.

Since I know you might be holding your breath, this week’s winners are Trent and Nakedinfiniverse.

Untitled piece

by Trent McDonald

Little Willie took a swim
Thinking the piranhas wouldn’t eat him
Don’t you think he was awfully silly
To assume a fish didn’t like Willie?

AND

A Helping Hand

by Nakedinfiniverse

Poor Willie said
he wished he was dead.
I wished the same
so I took aim.

Congratulations, Trent and Jane! You are the most terrible poets of the week!

Although many, many entries were hilarious and/or disturbing; I specifically looked for those that captured the clever twist of the traditional Little Willie poem; those that flippantly versed of disaster whilst punning a punch line. Of the finalists, the two winners were my favorites.

Good work, everyone! Here are all of the poems:

Untitled piece

by Trent McDonald

Stuck in tar Willie waved
To the steamroller on the road just paved
The driver blindly sat
As Willie was made real flat

—–

Willie?

by Bruce Goodman

The doctor’s no expert at circumcision
Yes or no, it’s quite a decision
To be or not to be
Willie Willie’s willie?

—–

Untitled piece

by Deb Whittam

Little Willie went a swimmin’
While his friends watched on.
But the croc got hungry while he was chillin’
So they all applauded when he was gon

—–

Untitled piece

by Ruth Scribbles

Little Willie unveiled his parts
Thinking he was very smart
He was found at half past eight
Begging to enter the pearly gates

—–

Untitled piece

by Ruth Scribbles

Little Willie killed the roach
Then took a ride in the yellow coach
At his funeral folks did say
Little Willie seized the day

—–

Water of Life

by Lwbut

Little Willie was no liar,
But Little Willie’s pants were on fire,
If only he had been close by a lake
I’d likely not now be at his wake.

—–

Untitled piece

by Peregrine Arc

Little Willie had a thought
To play his trumpet at six o’clock
The sun had started rising, his father fast asleep
And now Willie can play all he wants–six feet deep.

—–

Untitled piece

by Bruce Goodman

Gun
Fun
Sillie
Willie

—–

A Little Exaggeration

by Lwbut

Baron Boris casually enquired, just before beginning his dismemberments,
Of Little Willie in which fashion he desired to be held in remembrance.
“Preferably
by hyperbole!”

—–

Untitled piece

by Bereaved Single Dad

Little Willie caught an itchy infection

Tried to visit his Doctor for an inspection

Was told no free appointments in weeks

So Poor Willie he ended up with very red cheeks

—–

No Bull

by Masercot

Little Willie fought a bull

in Barcelona, Spain

His body gained a few more holes

when it hit him like a train.

—–

Dragon

by Nakedinfiniverse

If I described the beat of its wings descending to the ground,
the claws, the teeth, the flames that brought Willie down,
It would sound like a lie, even silly,
Alas, poor Willie.

—–

Who, Me?

by Nakedinfiniverse

I told him not to smoke your fags
and why would I dip his glad-rags
in paraffin? It wasn’t me, dad.
Can I have Willie’s iPad?

—–

Willie’s Mayo

by Nakedinfiniverse

Willie loved red, he dreamed of red
and all the thoughts inside his head
he drew on walls in crimson crayon
(He even mixed red in with the mayon-
Naise). While dripping red ink in a nearby well
he tripped, and heavily, in he fell.
As from the depths his corpse was raised,
Willie’s bloodied skull left his mother unfazed.
“I see he’s rejecting the red from his head
so it’s OK to chuck out his mayo,” she said.

—–

Playmates

by Valfish56

Little Willie was up to no good
Chased his sister through the wood
Tied you her to a tree, left her for dead
Played with his dinosaurs instead

—–

Smokin’

by Violet Lentz

‘Farmer Vincent’s Smoked Meats’ the billboard did proclaim.
“Where our smoking process, is our claim to fame!”
Little Willie, ever curious, set off one day to see
exactly what’s so special about Farmer Vincent’s recipe.
Little Willie never did discover Farmer Vincent’s smoking secret.
Farmer Vincent smoked him out. Then ground him into a tasty tid-bit!

—–

I hope you had just as much fun as I did writing, then reading where everyone went with the prompt. Go on home now, and get yourself back tomorrow around 10 a.m. for next week.

three-monkeys-1212621_1920

Trent and Jane: 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

Good morning (for me) and welcome to the 32nd Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest!

Most of the time, I suggest you follow the advice I give in my how-to. This is because I normally seek clichés, mis-meters, and overly rhyming.

This week, however, use the following specifications:

  1. The Topic is to write a Little Willie poem. The name comes from a way of writing poetry that was popular in the early 1900s.
    From A Treasury of Laughter*:
    “Every paper began to print ‘ruthless rhymes,’ and every contributor tried to invent a catastrophe more gory in event and more nonchalant in effect than its predecessor. The favorite ‘hero’ was Willie, and although other characters sometimes crept into the quatrains, the terse lines became known as ‘Little Willies.'”
    I included three of the tamest examples at the end of this post.
  2. The Length is about four lines, a quatrain. Some were written as limericks or a double quatrain; but most were short, clever, and darkly humorous.
  3. Rhyming is imperative. These poems usually follow an A/A/B/B pattern.
  4. As I said, this week the poems are terrible because of their message. I expect darker tones, questionable humor, and stretches into creative venues writers never knew they had. If you’re sensitive, stay away. If you’re twisted, come on in.
  5. One might be tempted to up the Rating, but this is the sort of clever writing that makes readers uncomfortable but stays in the PG range.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (July 5) 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!

 

three-monkeys-1212621_1920

 

Willie fell down the elevator —
Wasn’t found till six days later.
Then the neighbors sniffed, “Gee whizz!
What a spoiled child Willie is!”

Little Willie from the mirror
Sucked the mercury all off,
Thinking, in his childish error,
It would cure the whooping cough.
At the funeral his mother,
Weeping, said to Mrs. Brown:
” ‘Twas a chilly day for Willie
When the mercury went down!”

Little Willie;
Pair of skates;
Hole in the ice;
Golden gates.

 

*Quote and poem examples taken from A Treasury of Laughter, Simon and Schuster, New York, ©1946

Photo credit:
Image by Robert Fotograf from Pixabay