The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 3/28 – 4/3/2020

Welcome to the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. We’re going on 65 weeks now. Perhaps it’s about time to number by date and stop trying to keep track of age.

If you’re new to these parts or could use a refresher, read my basic outline here. We’re about capturing the soul of a novice whilst hurting the sensibilities of a professional.

Here are the specifics for this week:

  1. The Topic is Springtime -or Autumntime if you’re South. You can haiku, limerick, free verse, acrostic, tanka, cinquain, sonnet
  2. Length is wholly dependent on the type of poem you write. If you go with an epic ballad, please cut things off before page 54.
  3. Rhyming also depends on your creation.
  4. The goal is to make it terrible. Mother Earth must rise from her seasonal slumber to smack you with an olive branch of peace.
  5. Keep the Rating at PG or cleaner.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (April 3) to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous for a week.

If not, and for a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Leave a comment if your pingback doesn’t show up within a day.

Have fun!

yellow tulip in spring

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Springtime for Bad Poets

April showers
Bring June superpowers
And Pilgrim’s pride
Makes me feel like a snowstorm in-
between my apelike toes
As
The world wakes
In flowers
Outside
Against foes
And shakes.

©2020 Chelsea Owens

45 thoughts on “The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 3/28 – 4/3/2020

  1. I think, under the circumstances, that Spring is in appropriate. The Northern Hemisphere will have to cancel it.

    ***

    The mercury is falling
    I hope it’s just a cold
    Is it destiny that’s calling?
    Or part of getting old?
    Is it just a shiver?
    Or might it be a curse?
    That Autumn will deliver
    Or will Winter be much worse?

    A month of isolation
    My social distance getting broad
    I’m here for the duration
    Already getting bored
    There’s bad news in the paper
    The TV’s on the blink
    I fear the isolator
    Might turn this man to drink

    My Mama and my Papa
    They left here just in time
    I cough. I sneeze. I splutter
    I’ve been cut down in my prime
    So all the sky is grey
    And all the leaves are brown
    There’s nothing left to say
    ‘Cause there’s no one left in town

    ***
    And I want extra points deducted for the blatant theft of ‘California Dreaming’ lyrics.

    Liked by 4 people

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  7. This week’s execrable contribution.

    Re-leafing myself in public
    (with apologies to His Bobness)

    As the calendula ticks (not to be confused with cattle ticks)
    over to the March of the sugar plum fairies
    I vow to turn over a new leaf.
    But I am de-feated
    By the myriad discarded oak appendages
    carpet-snaking to my door.
    There must be some way out of here
    I thought in disbelief.
    There’s too much confusion.
    I can’t get on relief.
    So I sprang forward through
    a hole in the daylight-saving curtain
    and found, to my re-leaf,
    rabbits eating my lettuce seedlings.

    https://sixcrookedhighwaysblog.wordpress.com/2020/03/30/re-leafing-myself-in-public/

    Liked by 1 person

  8. I read through the comments, it seems no-one likes ‘the fall’ so that means its bad, or in this contests context good? Does it or did I confuse myself further? ah well.
    Sunny Outlook.
    Leaves is green,
    Summers peachy keen.
    Leaves turn yellow,
    Mortifies this fellow.
    Leaves is red,
    Soon be dead.
    Winter draws close,
    Leaves me morose.
    Grey day after day
    Springs so far away.
    When that wintery sun’s shining
    I cain’t see no silvery lining.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. A flower flowered
    Outside of my door
    I knew it must be spring!
    I sprang outside
    Birds and buds on trees!
    It reminded me I need a six-pack
    Of Bud
    But never mind
    The birds on trees!
    And Buds!
    Yuck….
    I go inside
    Wash the bird excrement off
    I shut the curtains
    I open a Bud
    When will winter be here again!?!

    Liked by 3 people

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  12. Spring its A Lie. Or the Birth of Buds.

    Watch them unfurl in the fragileility of spring,
    Opening our eyes allowing us to dream.
    Sun scoots low to expose streaked windows
    and stained tablecloths that soap failled to clean.
    Dust motes dance without rythm or beat,
    As the light stings our eyes and warms our feet.
    lettuce and sweatpeas sprout in soil filled pots
    With dafdodills normality comes in restless spots.
    But do not be fooled enough to blink or sigh
    For Jack with pointy fingers and lazer eyes
    Sends snapping frosts throughout night skies.
    Burns lime green leaves as black as Magpies eyes
    Stomps on plants with leadend boots.
    Its plan is clear to freeze the shoots.
    Now our gardens spoilled
    spring hadn’t sprung
    So we begin again
    with steaming
    Pony
    Dung.

    Liked by 3 people

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  16. It’s Springtime in Yorkshire
    The Sun is still on vacation

    Still waiting for it to be a scorcher
    Oh the pigging frustration


    The path is covered in ice

    And I’ve just landed on my bum

    Now I’m wearing last nights rice
    
And I feel a right dumb dumb
-

    The washing on the line is frozen rock solid
    
The gale force wind screams over the barren field

    The weeds and broken branches makes it look so squalid
    
The poor garden birds hide in the bushes seeking any decent shield


    So Springtime is here which means dust down the garden chair
    Now I’m off inside to find my extra thick thermal underwear

    Like

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