FREE Contest: The Second Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Welcome to the second Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. I am your hostess, Chelsea Owens.

Please, please read my wonderful blog post, How To Write Terrible Poetry, then note the following rules:

  1. The topic is sour grapes.
  2. It’s shorter than the last contest. Keep your poem below 150 words but above 5. That means anywhere from 6-149 words.
  3. To rhyme, or not this thyme? Again, up to you.
  4. And remember: the poem needs to be terrible. I want your high school poetry club teacher to pat you on the back for how many ways you failed to write the word ‘love’ or ‘agony.’ (Please do not literally use ‘love’ and ‘agony’ 50 times, assuming it’s a requirement.)
  5. Keep it PG-Rated.

Think you can do it? You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (November 23, 2018) to submit. Write it early ’cause I don’t want to see anyone coming here instead of to their family’s house for Thanksgiving.

Post your poem or the specific link to it in the comments.

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16 thoughts on “FREE Contest: The Second Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

  1. Okay here’s one:
    Those grapes are sour
    I cannot reach them
    O Alas! O Alas! O Sigh!
    Death O Death grows nigh!
    And my need grows by
    the daily hour
    I said, ‘So, the curtain
    doesn’t match them drapes,’
    And for that this,
    This punishment! This poverty!
    O Star! O heavens! O clouds!
    My freedom! My liberty!
    Gone!
    Taken and now as I’m tied to these
    Bedposts
    I writhe! I writhe! I writhe!
    Them who said ‘Ginger’s have no soul,’ were talking no myth!
    O Alas! O Alas! O beautiful star!

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Sour Grapes

    O the grape has a pip you know
    known as a seed sometimes
    and the sourest grape
    has the sourest indeed
    one that can even make a grown man’s lips bleed
    into a conveniently placed hankerchief
    if he has one
    not all men carry them these days
    the apes
    Neanderthals
    with their grapey palate
    like being stuck on the mouth with a great huge wooden mallet
    those grapes.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. THE SOUR GRAPES OF WRATH

    There are green ones
    And red ones
    But sometimes they are so dark that they are pretty much
    Black
    Oh, so black.
    And dark.
    Like my heart.
    Since you’ve been gone.
    You peeled grapes for me.
    Which was jolly nice
    Because
    I really didn’t like the skins
    Which
    Used to get stuck in my teeth
    In the gaps
    And underneath
    My tongue.
    Somehow. Don’t ask me how.
    I’m not a dentist.
    And now the skins
    Are giving me grief again.
    Such grief.
    Beyond belief.
    And they’re not very sweet.
    I would have said bitter
    And thrown them in the litter
    bin
    But actually they’re probably really
    Just sour.
    Like my mood.
    Unpleasant food.
    And it’s because of you.
    That I’m sour.
    Like these grapes.
    And I hate
    You.
    So there.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. When I’m lying in my hospital bed
    don’t bring me grapes!
    O bring me pineapples, melons and avocados instead
    and apples red (and strawberries because they’re also red)
    And lemons and bananas from the capes
    (O and I just remembered raspberries are red too)
    bring those
    But not more grapes
    Can you pull those drapes for me?
    That’s better, now I can see
    O no, are those for me?
    Take
    them
    away
    Come back
    another day with some other fruit
    or a carrot yeah I really don’t mind vegetables

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Pingback: Sour grapes – Ruth Scribbles

  6. Sour Grapes

    I refuse to obey rules –
    especially for bad poetry.
    Some might think it’s really cool
    to have a rule
    but personally I think it’s a load of bull

    Some might think this excellent (some might say brilliant)
    poem is revenge
    for not winning last week’s poetry-that-sux competition.
    But I refuse to obey rules
    even when I’m driving a car
    Ha ha ha

    (I would’ve put “sux” at the end of the line but couldn’t think of anything that rhymed with it).

    This could be construed as being sour grapes
    but the expression “sour grapes” is a cliché.
    But hey!
    Hang loose.
    Bruce
    can screw up his face just as well with lemon juice.

    Liked by 2 people

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