WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

For several contests now, I’ve wanted to do a multi-person tie. You are all doing so terribly!

(That’s a compliment.)

But… since you’ve all skipped to this part anyway, the winner is Michael B. Fishman.

Don’t Skippy Over Me (or I’ll Be Back in a Jif)

by Michael B. Fishman

I like chunky peanut butter sometimes –
and sometimes I don’t.

Ask me why,
or don’t,
(I don’t care)

Peanut butter’s rough.
The chunks? A diamond in the rough.

That’s because I like peanuts and . . .
I
don’t
like
peanut
butter.

It’s not even butter!

Once upon a time there was a peanut farmer who became President. A giant named Fezzik came along and asked if he wanted a peanut. The President-to-be said no, but he asked the giant where he could fill up his empty peanuts. The giant didn’t know, but some other guy – I can’t visualize him so neither will you – came along and said “I know!” The President-to-be said, “Where?” and non-visualizable man said, “The Shell station!”

And they laughed.

And the peanuts laughed.

“Ha!” they all laughed

Laughter is like a diamond.
(I don’t know why but it makes for an interesting simile)
Life is just rough
(That’s not a simile, I don’t know what it is)

We eat peanut butter
and watch the butterfly flutter.
From the golf putter to the stonecutter
Some of us put it on bread and eat it with that white stuff that drips from a cow’s udder.

Congratulations, Michael! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

My multi-way tie desire was due to SO MANY of the poets messing with the meter in a very intelligent way, rhyming (then, not), and choosing such awful subjects that I wonder if Diana gave them lessons from last week….

Michael’s very slight push above the rest was how mismatched his poem was. We had a lovely poem going, then …a paragraph?, then back to another sort of poem (I think). Terrible!

By no means worse (better?), here are the rest of the entrants:

Precious Stones

by Greygirlieandme

It’s tough
Being a diamond in the rough.
I’d rather be an emerald
Set in fourteen carat gold
When I am old.
Or perhaps a sapphire
If you think I should aim a bit higher
What about a pearl?
If I was the mother of an earl
I’d give you a string
Made of oyster vomit
No, that’s not it
Is it?
It’s grit not vomit.
My precious….
My precious…
Oh sorry, that’s something different
From a nasty little gent.
Maybe he’s a diamond in the rough
Finding life a little tough.

—–

A heart-felt lamentation

by Bruce Goodman

Quite frankly my dear I don’t give a stuff
when you say to accept you as you are:
that you are a diamond in the rough.
But enough is enough.
Tough!
I want a divorce.

When you eat your food with your mouth open…
well! that’s not being a diamond in the rough
but straight out bad manners.
I’d rather eat with my horse.
Tough!
I want a divorce.

Just because you have no legs
and have no arms and have to be spoon fed
is no reason to eat with your mouth open.
Tough!
I want a divorce.

And you can keep the wheelchair.

—–

Untitled piece

by Dawn D

There once was a youngster
Who lived in a dumpster
She begged and clawed
Through the bitter cold
Till the day she morphed into a stunning princess.

—–

Untitled piece

by Peregrine Arc

Diamond, ouch, you’re too rough.
Diamond, ouch, cut that out.
Diamond please, stop stop stop.
Wait, that’s not what this prompt is about?

Shiny, shine, shine shine.
I’m Rihanna’s Diamond in the Sky.
Gleam.

—–

A Mean Girl

by H.R.R. Gorman

I’m a diamond –
See my perfect shine!
I’m prettier than you,
No need to whine.

So get in line
I ain’t got the time!
You don’t want a dollar
Waitin’ on a dime!

Your face is a crime,
So listen to me.
Tan that white skin,
Get some vitamin D.

Fat like your mommy,
You can’t wear that top.
Ain’t gettin’ no boyfriend
When you look like slop.

C’mon girl, chop-chop!
Your pits smell like waste!
And you gotta lose inches
Off that extra-large waist!

No wonder you’re chaste.
That hair’s a nightmare
With all that va-voom!
It’s like you don’t even care.

What’s that you declare?
You say I’m bad stuff?
Not even a diamond
In form most rough?

Shut up you’re stupid.
Your mom’s stupid.
Go home, idiot,
I hate you.

—–

Please Mrs Patterson

by TanGental

Please Mrs Patterson
Roger’s an awful little pest;
He’s only gone and stapled
My earlobes to his desk.
*
Please Mrs Patterson
Roger really is too much;
He’s liquidized our gerbil
And sprayed him on my crotch.
*
Please Mrs Paterson
I’m not sure we can take much more;
Roger’s borrowed Harry’s toolbox
And nailed Gemma to the floor
*
Please Mrs Patterson
Things are getting out of hand;
Roger’s kidnapped Maisie Wellbeloved
And buried her in sand.
*
Please Mrs Patterson
You’ll really have to stop it;
Roger’s only gone and taken Bob
And strapped him to a rocket.
*
Please Mrs Patterson
You must stop being craven
Roger’s stuffed poor Bill with pitted dates
And put him in the oven.
*
Please Mrs Patterson
I know he’s had it tough
But Roger’s more your psychopath
Than a diamond in the rough.

—–

Ordinary

by Anneberly

A diamond in the rough
Isn’t that tough

As he dances in the daylight
And even at night

He thinks he’s quite elegant
Ha! Like an elephant

His mannerisms aren’t too shabby
Pretty lazy like a tabby

His intellect isn’t book smarts
He’s got a gigantic heart

People think he’s quite gruff
This diamond in the rough

—–

My Fair Lady

by Jordy

I once met a lass who was really darn crass.
Liked her so asked her to go fishing for bass.

Pretty fine, want to make her mine. But my Ma won’t agree. Her mouth is to rotten and her spit always hits my knee.

She thought she was haute but tore up her coat.
Was how she stepped on the boat. You know.

I went to get gun powder to fix it all up.
But it began to sizzle and got her all frup.

She screamed and hollered at lil ole me.
Then walloped me a good one that set my lights free.

We rasseled and rolled when she tried to pull off my head and throw it in a bowl.

Hell bells, diamond in the rough!
Darn if she ain’t the fair lady for me!

—–

On the links

by Bladud Fleas

On a tee I swunged
at the moment you did cough
and sliced my diamond in the rough
many minutes we sought
and didn’t find it
but I had another one
so didn’t mind it

where is that diamond now
I now wonder
that one I lost cos of your blunder
it makes me cry I don’t know
why, it’s not a game I like
it’s a spoiled hike, I’d prefer
to ride my bike. Across the fairway
just about when you’re gonna strike.

—–

Untitled piece

by Violet Lentz

Little Gemma Johnson
Was quite the catch, I’d heard them say
Though a little rough around the edges
She’d make a fine wife someday

Little did I know- t’was me
They’d arranged as her betroth
never having laid my eyes, on
This little diamond in the rough

The matrimonial day arrived
Our families filled the church
She lifted her veil for our first kiss
And my guts lept to a lurch

Eyes askance, under twisted brow
Nose bent off to the side somehow
Lips so thick she couldn’t pucker
I knew right then, there’s no way I could……

Whoa is me I can’t be wed
Alone is how I’ll stay in bed
She’s no diamond- rough or other
If I have to wed, I’ll take her brother!

—–

Too classy to have friends.

by Molly Stevens

It’s hard to be the only one
Refinded mongst the diamonds in the rough.
You say tomato,
I say tomahtopuff.

Tomahtopuff’s not a word, of course,
But I wanted things to rhyme.
You’d know that if you were in my class,
Instead of subpar subslime.

I’ve looked for others who are equal
To my decree of finesse,
But alas they’re moving parts unknown
Without a forwarding address.

You may think it’s craps
Sitting alone atop that pinochle.
But it’s not in the cards
To lower my standards.

—–

Untitled piece

by RhScribbles

Diamond in the rough

Rough diamond

Cracking windows is tough

I need a diamond

One with rough edges

Edges to scratch glass

Glass walls that keep me out

Out and not in

In with the gang

Gang of a thousand

Thousands of diamonds that sparkle

Sparkle and shine illuminating

My world with possibilities

Life is rough,

I mean tough

—–

Again: what I say pushes a poem to first is not what I always look for. The other entrants and their highly creative measures change the standards each time!

Good work, and tune in tomorrow to see next week’s prompt.

Geode

There’s that geode again.

 

By the way, Michael: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) as a badge of honor as the winner:

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Good Saturday morning to you all, even if you are not necessarily reading this on a morning nor a Saturday.

Welcome to The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest, episode Eleven.

What is terrible poetry? Please read my helpful article, “How To Write Terrible Poetry.” Lower your standards, trash your meter, near-rhyme your audience to tears, and then read the rules for this week:

  1. Topic: Diamond in the Rough.
  2. Length should be greater than 5 words but fewer than 200 words. (5<poem<200)
  3. Rhyme if you want. Don’t if you don’t want.
  4. Make it terrible.
    Your dear old granny who never said anything bad about anybody (excepting for using passive-aggression, of course; bless her heart) will want to tell you not to worry; not everyone can be a poet and isn’t it good you have other talents to fall back on, Dearie?
  5. Terrible can still be granny-approved. Keep it PG-rated.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (February 2, 2019) to submit a poem.

Post your poem or a link to it in the comments, or fill out the included form. I read them all and judge as impartially and blindly as I may.

Geode

Yes, I know it’s a geode. It’s the thought that counts.

“For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn’t understand growth, it would look like complete destruction.”

-Cynthia Occelli

“…There are two entirely opposite attitudes possible in facing the problems of one’s life. One, to try and change the external world, the other, to try and change oneself. Although both attitudes are potential in everyone, most of us have become one-sided, biased toward the preferred attitude in most of our dealings…”

-Marion Milner (pseudonym Joanna Field), A Life of One’s Own, Preface.