Tag Archives: #terriblepoetrycontest

Green Mountain Gold

6 Replies
Unknown

Green Mountain Gold

Vermont Cheddar, how could anything be terrible about that? The terroir and tang of regional cheeses with a great bottle of wine sound delightful. I’m in, who knows maybe too much wine will help with this month’s Terrible Poetry Contest! About that, Chel asks us to write a terrible limerick about this regional cheese. Two months ago I said let them eat cake, now I say let them eat cheese!!! on to the terribleness again…

From Vermont came a cheddar, behold
Legend has it, one heck of a mold
Big cheese curd not forstall
The coming Woodchuck brawl.
For a chance to taste Green Mountain gold.

And I’m off to make some nachos with melted cheese (and maybe chili!)

Credits and Additional Information
Advertisement

Home of the Braves

3 Replies
Unknown

Home of the Braves

Is there anything more culturally inappropriate than the tomahawk chop? I can’t think of much that makes me cringe more than watching a stadium full of Braves fans do its rendition of a Native war chant while some yahoo with a drum and Aboriginal feathered headdress beats on.

This month Chel’s Terrible Poetry contest asks us to write a terrible poem about cultural appropriation using the triolet form. I have chosen the English iambic tetrameter model. To heck with my French heritage, I say let them eat cake! Now let the terribleness begin…

Aah wah aah wah wah a warriors hum,
Back and forth the tomahawk chop.
Warpaint, feather headdress, and drum,
Aah wah aah wah wah a warriors hum,
From what century did you come?
Ratta tat tat tat, make it stop!
Aah wah aah wah wah a warriors hum,
Back and forth the tomahawk chop.

It is the start of another baseball season and I say “go, anyone but Atlanta, go!

Credits and Additional Information

Escape Plan

3 Replies
Unknown

Escape Plan

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!!!

Credits and Additional Information

The Ring

3 Replies

The Ring

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.

Credits and Additional Information

A Boy Named Luck

2 Replies

A Boy Named Luck

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.

Credits and Additional Information

Gain Flings

5 Replies

there she stood
unkempt and crude
her family lines
a sickly brood
her sweats all stained
with God knows what
brown and smudged
across her butt
but in the light
of twilight time
hot damn, my Lord
she looked so fine
through the years
and many a stain
she stole my heart
my love she’d Gain

Continue reading →

What Is Soup?

5 Replies

The following is written in response to Chel Owen’s Terrible Poetry Contest. The challenge asks that we channel our inner Shakespeare and write a terrible sonnet about everybody’s favourite one-pot food, soup.

What Is Soup?

The sorcerer’s mirepoix, the witches roux,
with bone and water forge a mystic blend,
add salt and spice, merely a pinch or two,
elements together, combine, transcend.

Cast iron cauldron yields to fiery kiss,
stir and simmer, cooking slowly in time,
bubbling, boiling, with wisps of steaming bliss,
filling the fragrant air with spells sublime.

Chick’n noodle, chowder, gazpacho on ice,
mullugatawny, bisque and gumbo too,
potatoes, pasta, or a spot of rice,
some so thick they’re more akin to stew.

What is soup? You’ll find you have to conclude,
soup is the liquid version of solid food.1

Citation: Definition of soup taken from the Terrible Poetry Contest blog post for this contest at Chel Owen’s blog, A Wife, My Verse, and Every Little Thing.

Continue reading →

Stomping My Woods on My Round This Morning

4 Replies

The following is in response to Chel Owen’s Terrible Poetry Contest where we were asked to take the first line of a famous poem and then rewrite the rest as [the poet] see(s) fit. Bonus points if [you] use the original meter and rhyming scheme. My poem is a (terrible) golfer take on Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” except on the golf course in the morning. Hope you enjoy.

Stomping My Woods on My Round This Morning

Whose woods these are I think I know
Their place is on the golf course though
He Rory‘s up a Tiger tail
In anger bent and gave a throw

My little cart may think it Strange
To watch him stomp around insane
Swearing, cursing and Spiething nails
Please end this round and end the Payne

My caddy’s head begins to shake
As if to say it’s a mistake
Rolled up cuff, the language Fowler
As he wades right into the lake…

At the next tee, I’m Jacked to see
If I can hit the green in three
And now my woods wrapped ’round a tree
And now my woods wrapped ’round a tree

Continue reading →

Terrible Nursery Rhymes

2 Replies

Terrible Nursery Rhymes

Bought the Farm

Sadie rushed out to the barn,
A whip with her cowgirl charm,
The animals arranged,
An ending deranged,
Now Sadie’s done bought the farm.

Fad Diet

Fat Larry began a fad diet,
With an eye for sweet apple pies,
He followed the plan to the letter,
And promptly when up one size.
Undeterred he continued to eat,
For the losses he’d soon realize,
Until a peek in the mirror did show,
The pie had gone straight to his thighs.

Continue reading →

Road Ragin’

12 Replies

Road Ragin’

Driving down the road 🛣️
Minding my own business
When buddy flips me the bird 🦜
I know free verse don’t rhyme
But this guy’s a real turd 💩
With my ego now bruised
My brain explodes 💥
And my senses go blind
What’s this clown’s 🤡
Problem anyway
Step on the gas ⛽
I weave through the rush
My window recessed 🪟
As I pull up to your ride
I start waving my fist 👊
Rhyme a curse at the lady inside
Don’t call the cops 🚓
That’s not meant for you

I got the wrong car 🚗
Mistaken identity I swear
I’m totally raging 🤬
As I punch it again
Blast past a school bus 🚌
This rhyming is insane
I catch a glimpse 👀
As you make the left
I race through the turn 🏎️
And ‘round the bend
Caught in my web 🕸
️The thrill of pursuit gone
What do I do now ❓
I take a deep breath and
In a moment of zen ☯️
My road rage does pass
I rhyme one last time ⌚
And realise, I’m the real ass!

Continue reading →