Winner

(What? Did you think I was going to keep you in suspense?)

THE SOUR GRAPES OF WRATH

by Babbitman

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.

I had a really difficult time choosing a winner. I had to flip a four-sided coin to determine who got it. Yes, a four-sided coin is a thing. Yes, that means that the more-than-four entries were still too pretty. Get more angst, guys.

To those who entered and did not get first place but were still terrible: great work! I cringed so much I almost stopped laughing out loud.

As to you, Babbitman, the little extra oomph that bumped you up to first (besides winning the imaginary, impossible coin toss) was your random references to things that still managed to make me think of bad poetry clichés. Add that to the terrible meter and line interruptions (present in a few others’ entries) and I nearly had to go get a breath of fresh prose to recover.

So, congratulations! You are the most terrible poet of them all for this week.

Here are the other terrible poetry submissions, in order of when they were submitted:

Sour Grapes

by Bladud Fleas

A bunch of your finest my good woman
if you don’t mind
O, your last lot left me little lips a bit puckered
Nope, no probs! assuredly
Honestly,
I didn’t want them anyhow.

—–

Untitled piece

by Nitin

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!

—–

Sour Grapes

by Bladud Fleas

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.

—–

It Follows

by Jon

Sour grapes
Bitter fruit
Ingratitude
Vomited heavenward
Raining down
Staining, rude
Creasing frown
Crass, crude
Ugly festering
Attitude

—–

Untitled piece

by Bladud Fleas

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

—–

Untitled piece

by Masercot

I lost the race
but that’s okay because the trophy had a stupid face
and the meager prize purse
was even worse…

—–

Sour Grapes

by Ruth Scribbles

My mommy said

Smile

No sour grapes

Allowed

Why? I said

If I smile

You will see them

on my teeth

Ps. This is terrible Ug

—–

Sour Grapes

by Bruce Goodman

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.

—–

Untitled piece

by Fractured Faith Blog

Sour Grapes
Sour Grapes
Oh God
This was a mistake.
Gag my mouth with duct tape
But now it’s too late
I’ve entered the contest
My poem is a right mess.
Sour Grapes
Sour Grapes
Grapes which are not sweet
Are usually sour.
Fin

—–

Untitled piece

by Furious Pockets

“Why am I not married?”
Some complain, and in an attempt to drain the pain, they exclaim,
“It’s caused by a culture of rapes!”
But I know that’s just sour grapes.

I am also terribly sorry for sending this out so late. The oldest and I went out for our traditional ‘Black Friday’ shopping of going to the local Smith’s Food and Drug to get free donuts at 7 a.m. Any other Black Friday-ing is madness.

I’ve come home, recovered a bit, and determined that I ought to use a fat chair next time I’m post-op.

Merry Thanksgiving to you all, and be sure to enter next week’s contest!