WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

I was worried when I didn’t get many entries for this week’s contest. Perhaps you were shy? In the end, though, we had a good and difficult-to-judge turnout. Thank you all for participating; you make picking a winner nigh impossible every Friday.

No more suspense. The winner is Furious Pockets.

“It’s Raining Phlegm,” from “It’s Raining Men”

by Furious Pockets

Temperature is rising — energy’s getting low
According to my doctor, work is not the place to go
Cause today, I don’t feel fine,
And since just about half-past ten
For some weird reason, a mystery,
My nose started raining phlegm!

It’s raining phlegm! Gesundheit, it’s raining phlegm! Ahem!
I’m gonna stay inside and let my tissues get
Absolutely soaking wet!

It’s raining phlegm! Gesundheit, it’s raining phlegm! Every specimen!
Yellow, green, lumpy and long
And sometimes red—I think something’s wrong!

WITH a much-needed Honorable Mention to Michael B. Fishman, who wrote EIGHT song parodies this week. I had trouble picking a favorite, but laughed the most with “Traction.”

“Traction” (“Satisfaction”)

by Michael B. Fishman

I can’t get no, tire traction.
I can’t get no, tire traction.
Tires spin, and they spin, and they spin and they spin
I can’t get no . . .

When I’m drivin’ in the snow,
and the weatherman’s saying what I already know;
he’s supposed to bring back warmer weather –
supposed to clear up icy roads.
I can’t get no . . .  No traction.

Congratulations, Furious Pockets! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

Every week, I post the entrants from the form and from the announcement post into a new blog post. I paste them without names, then go do something to cleanse my memories of who wrote what. I try my darndest to be impartial.

Today took so long because of a busy schedule, but also because I could not settle on a winner. You all write so terribly well, and parody well enough to make a grown Al Yankovic cry. At such a high level of skill, cleverness, and cringiness; I went with Furious Pockets for following the original song meter well, mostly keeping to the subject, and for a terrible subject matter.

As is our usual, this does not mean the rest were any less terrible. If you submitted a poem/song this week, go right ahead and give yourself an awkward pat on the back. These are fantastic:

“Just Pay Me” (“Let it Be”)

by Michael B. Fishman

When I find my teeth feel like loose rubble,
Dentist Mary comes to me speaking words of crowns and
“Just pay me, just pay me.”
And when I hear the drilling she is standing right in front of me,
“I’ll save your teeth of wisdom, just pay me, just pay me.”

—–

Inspired by “Ice, Ice Baby” by Vanilla Ice

by Peregrine Arc

Alright stop.
Collaborate and listen, while I sit back in my brand new invention
The muse will grab ahold of you tightly
It’ll flow like a harpoon deadly and mighty
Will it ever stop? Yo I don’t know
Let’s turn on the lights and watch the poet go
To the extreme I wield my pen
Light up the words and rhyme like a fluffy hen

Nice, nice poetry… Really nice, nice poetry.
Nice, nice poetry. It’s really nice nice poetry…

—–

Untitled, but mostly seems inspired by “Bohemian Rhapsody”

by Nitin

Mama just drilled a man (not what you think!)
Put a drill against his teeth
Pulled the trigger, now the cavity’s filled
Mama that tooth was just decaying
But now I’ve gone and filled it all the way
Mama, saaay ahhh
Didn’t mean to become a dentist
If I’m not administering anaesthetic tomorrow
Scream on, scream on because everything matters

—–

“Bird Drips Keep Fallin’” (“Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head“)

by Michael B. Fishman

Bird drops keep falling on my head,
and just like guy whose head is not really too big I never wear a hat,
those bird drops keep falling on my head and I’m bawling.
Because they smell, and they don’t smell very well.

—–

To the tune of the old Beatles classic: “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”

by TanGental

Position yourself on the left of the centre
A democrat with a glint in the eye
Make a friend with a tea party member
Who’s more interested in the How than the Why.
Set up a committee to debate the issues
That matter to ordinary men on the bus.
Given them a budget to commission reporting
And let them know you don’t want a fuss.
Technical topics are always banned
They’ll only go over your heads
Look instead for a popular cause like a wall
And it’s done
Nancy’s in cahoots with Donald
Nancy’s in cahoots with Donald, ah, ah
Follow them now until the election
And watch as they build a castle of lies.
No one smiles and everything’s gone sour
And the only way out is to get high….

—–

“The Buffet” (“A Horse With No Name”)

by Michael B. Fishman

On the first leg of the buffet I was looking at all the rice.
There was brown and white and jasmine too
all this food for just one low price.

At the first stop on the buffet I was holding a sharp steak knife
There was strip, T-Bone and sirloin too
all this food who needs Herbalife?

I’ve been through the buffet with a plate in my hand
the beans were cold but I didn’t complain.
At the buffet you can eat ‘till you puke
until your belt it can’t stand the strain.

—–

“My Dear Ottoman” (“Mrs. Robinson”)

by Michael B. Fishman

And here’s to you, my dear ottoman,
seize my bottom with your wired spring coils
Woo, woo, woo.
Oh if you please, my dear ottoman,
I hope your fabric never fades away
Hey, hey, hey.

I’d like to know a little bit about your plushy piles
and how they always manage to soothe mine.
I sit on you for hours and I stand up with a smile
stroll around the house until I sit again.

—–

“All You Need is Money!” (“All You Need is Love”)
“Can you Imagine?” (“Imagine”)
“HELP!” (“Help!”)

by Ruth Scribbles

Cash, Cash, Cash,
Cash, Cash, Cash
Cash, Cash, Cash

Imagine there’s no money
It’s hard but please try
No food in your belly
Above you only sky

I need some money
(Help) not just pennies
(Help) Hands up!! I want some
(huzza)

Imagine all the rich folks
Living like you do
Beggars would be riders
Horses wishes too

All you need is cash
Cash is all you need

—–

“Ambitious Kinds” (“Suspicious Minds”)

by Michael B. Fishman

I just caught the clap, from some gal I met.
Why did I think I loved you baby?

Why can’t you see, what you’ve given to me?
How will I ever tell my family?

We can’t get back together, this penicillin’s mine.
And we can’t get together, until the doc says you’re fine.

—–

“Brainy Gals and Sundaes” (“Rainy Days and Mondays”)

by Michael B. Fishman

Walkin’ by myself and feeling cold.
Sometimes I will admit
to feeling like I just don’t fit.
Lookin’ around,
Trying not to feel cast down,
brainy gals and sundaes always get me down.

What I’ve got to do is lift my mood.
Tell myself it’s not my fault,
forget the sundae, drink a malt.
Lookin’ around,
sad eyes and a broken frown.
Brainy gals and sundaes always get me down.

Funny but it seems I always crave a barbecue.
Nice to know somebody’s cooking.
Funny but it seems that when I wake up and come to,
she is still so darn good looking. (So darn good loooooooking)

What I feel I can make go away.
But ice cream makes me want to pout
and brainy gals I can’t sort out
Moping around,
feeling like I’ve just been drowned,
brainy gals and sundaes always get me down.

—–

“That Tea Cozy” (“Cracklin’ Rosie”)

by Michael B. Fishman

That tea cozy I adore.
Keeps my tea warm till there ain’t no more to pour,
I’m sipping it slow,
lord don’t you know.
Have me some fun with a cup of oolong.

Twitching from too much caffeine.
Ain’t nothing wrong I just had one cup too much,
this tea it’s my crutch,
to drink, slurp and such.
Don’t need no more ‘cuz this tea it keeps me going.

Oh, I love my oolong tea, man.
It’s got the snap to make me happy.
Tea and me we drink in style, man.
My tea cozy, you store bought cover,
if you weren’t made of cloth I’d make you my lover.
So keep my tea warm and we’ll keep on drinking onnnnnnnn.

Pour it now… pour it now… pour it now my cozy.

—–

Thank you all, again, for spending the time to make us all laugh (or maybe cry). Tomorrow, I will be sure to outline what I will look for in whatever theme comes to me, and possibly to impose a submission limit. 😉

eduardo-balderas-801340-unsplash

Mr. Pockets: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) for a badge of honor as the winner:

22 thoughts on “WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s