Bad poetry

[The Ari-tificer]

This is a thread for posting poetry that is either written for the purpose of being bad or that just happens to be bad.
Rules are as follows:

1. You must write the poetry yourself.
2. The poetry must fit the requirements of the type of poem (i.e. no writing 'pizza' and calling it a haiku).
3. The worst poem entitles the author to bragging rights.
4. Disregard this rule.

[AuthorGirl]

The Awfullest Lyric Poem of them All
(Deliberately mocking some cruddy existential stuff I wrote a while ago.)

I was a scale
With no circle of fifths
I was a minor scale
No minor third to count up
I was a melody
Without pitch variance, a rhythm
Without a beat
And I was a chord
With no intervals inside of it.

[Knaight]

I have a haiku I had to write in highschool in a very short time period under some very specific constraints:

Og want Mog mammoth/
Og not like Mog have mammoth/
Mammoth tasty; want

[2D8HP]

Purple Eisenhower mimeographs going through the stucco of my mind

Mustard gas, atomic blasts, squares are too sublime

*snaps fingers*

"Espresso"

Oh wait D&D...

"Purple Elminster scrolls going through the wattle and daub of my mind"

*snaps fingers*

"Mead"

Also, I hate sports.

[Graypairofsocks]

This is a thread for posting poetry that is either written for the purpose of being bad or that just happens to be bad.
Rules are as follows:

1. You must write the poetry yourself.
2. The poetry must fit the requirements of the type of poem (i.e. no writing 'pizza' and calling it a haiku).
3. The worst poem entitles the author to bragging rights.
4. Disregard this rule.

haiku fart donkey
cutlery disorder eat
of course verbs is mars

[The Ari-tificer]

haiku fart donkey
cutlery disorder eat
of course verbs is mars

That's a great haiku.

[Aedilred]

I can't claim credit for this, but it's one of the worst poems I've seen outside the work of William McGonagall, so I'll share it.

England's Rose
The day we lost our Nation's Rose,
Tears we cried like rivers flowed,
The earth stood still
As we laid her to rest,
A day you & I
Will never forget,
The people's princess
Who came to see,
The love from a country
We'd hope she'd lead,
England's beauty
Captured in one sweet soul,
Carried the torch
God rest her soul,
With the gift she had
She'd light up the way,
With a smile to show us a brighter day,
Hearts still full
Of the love she gave,
20 years since she laid in her grave,
There will never be another like you,
Now a shining star in the midnight sky
I will always remember you,
Princess Diana,
As our sweet nation's rose
- Lewis Hamilton

[Asmodean_]

Halfway through learning poems for GCSE, we were tasked with writing one with the techniques we'd learned.

I decided to go 𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔞

---

It seems these days
that all you need
is a sheet of prose
and a liberal sprinkling of line breaks

It seems these days
that all they want
is something to make them think
(following the rules is optional)

Why not seek the heady days of yore,
When every poem followed writing laws?
Why have we abandoned our tradition
in favour of something that reads like regular prose with nothing else to it?

"The poet's use of clear enjambment
symbolises his despair at
losing his control over his thoughts..."

Alternatively his enjambment
symbolises his defiance
over rigid rules he had to
follow, and control over his words..."

Thirty marks in twelve and twelve and six,
digging through the **** to try and find something that sticks,
drawing lines where none were meant to be,
"Needs more terminology - 18."

What do I draw from the lack of their rhythms?
What do I write about rhyme schemes that vanish?
What do I do when the poet decides "**** it" and ignores the fact that they're writing a "poem" and just goes off on a tangent during which the only question to ask is not are they but which drugs are they on and how many?

in short:
What do I do with a fake poem?

How does the poet show his frustration at the rules that he accuses other poets of ignoring? Compare with one other poem in the anthology.
[30 marks]

[Jormengand]

-snip-

That is amazing. How did the teacher respond?

---

As for my own terrible poems, I do have fun using the following template to compose a haiku about almost anything:

[Five syllable line]
I can't think of a haiku
That describes it well

[Vinyadan]

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Loosen my fingers
Goddam that glue

_______________


Roses are green
Violets are blue
I am Daltonic
and you smell like poo

_______________


A boring man I once met
Of bores he had a whole set
Endlessly he bore his people
Then he sew them with a needle.
I stopped and asked how he did
For his left hand was a squid
To which he answered, "How I do?
Take a seat, I'll bore you too!"

[Asmodean_]

- snip -

Didn't have the guts to actually submit it. Wrote some crap about how duty is like a mountain and handed that in instead.

got a B

[Scarlet Knight]

Hickory Dickory's Dock
Is where I punch my clock
But loading ships is hard
So I'll just fish
off ol' Dickory's Hickory dock.

[Jormengand]

Didn't have the guts to actually submit it. Wrote some crap about how duty is like a mountain and handed that in instead.

got a B

That's a pity. I'll admit that you've somewhat inspired me...

A poet pens a powerful, pitiful prose:
A flat, thin line of follow the leader
From which alliteration for some reason rose.
What effect does this have on the reader?

Vary the length of the lines and the rhyme scheme.
This tells the reader that things aren't as they seem.
The poet uses half-rhyme to help her explain
That she can't think of two words that end the same.

Break out of the scheme and go into free verse. Why? Why not?
Why use rhetorical questions?
What effect does this have on the reader?

Remember to repeat lines so you can pad it out,
Since you only have a little to write about,
Don't worry whether it rhymes, fits or scans,
What effect does this have on the reader?

[JNAProductions]

Five seven five then
Some more horse crap to write now
It's snowing on Mt. Fuji

[The Ari-tificer]

Five seven five then
Some more horse to write now
It's snowing on Mt. Fuji

Five|sev|en|five|then - 5 syllables
Some|more|horse|to|write|now - 6 syllables
It's|snowing|on|Mt.|Fuji - 6 syllables

That's not actually a haiku.
Sorry.

[JNAProductions]

Woops, meant to write horse crap, not just horse.

And "It's snowing on Mt. Fuji" is the ONLY way to end a haiku. Game Grumps reference. Sanic Bam, Episode 38. Warning, language content in the link.

[Jethro_Thrull]

A staccato beat intrudes upon my mind
the tap-tap-tapping of a million ants tap dancing
to Imagine Dragons "Radioactive"

My thoughts are a frenzy of annoyance and misanthropy
why didn't these ants deliver coffee
'tis the season for Pumpkin Spice Lattes after all

[tyckspoon]

Giant I T P
My offense has no defense
Also, I hate sports.

[Knaight]

Hickory Dickory's Dock
Is where I punch my clock
But loading ships is hard
So I'll just fish
off ol' Dickory's Hickory dock.

Using the same word twice in a rhyme scheme is always a good technique for making garbage. There's also some fun to be had with really questionable slant rhymes and rhyme orders.

A lighthouse alone shines bright in the night/
Built mighty and strong, a little bit wrong/
By Hick'ry and Dick'ry, both dead in the head/
Lying atop in a bed made of lead/
Light didn't last long; they slept for a song/
So they then had to fistfight a shipwright.

[Vinyadan]

Whatever you want
Caress on my calluses
Now that's Halloween


Irrelevant pigs
On cumulonimbus
Fiercest sunset


Naked Spartan men
Dance hard at Thermopylae
American public.

[Vinyadan]

Months of unpaid rent
I'll call the cops if you don't
Leave the bungalow


The black on the shore
Isn't petroleum, it's sea coal
You can't collect it


London is calling
Can't you hear London calling
London is calling


Where were you at lunch
And would it have killed you
To answer the phone


I don't like U2
But I guess there's worse stuff
OMD party


Kim Kardashian is
Doesn't ring any bell no idea
who Kardashian is


Rope jump slight fumble
The sky turns around my body
Bamboo in my face

[Scarlet Knight]

Skin glistens,
Beads of sweat,
Muscles Straining,
Release, tighten again.
Two bodies move,
opposed, yet together.
The dance of dominance.
I love sports!

[Peelee]

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm bad at rhyming.
And rhythm.

[Anonymouswizard]

I'll get back to you, I'm trying to compose a poem about how bad free verse is (written in free verse, of course, because I have trouble sticking to forms). It'll have an abaa rhyme scheme and lines of as varying length as I can make them, while still retaining some form of rhythm.

If I'm going to write bad poetry I'm going to do this properly.

Until then.

Forum Thread
Wandering away
from the path set out
Will the mods notice
Will they care
The point once made
Has been lost to argument
As the people
Continue on
Never stopping
Never understanding
Talking endlessly
In circles of their own making

[Vinyadan]

Whenever I squat
I end up falling backwards
Need lots of stretching

[kedirimakmur1]

And I was a chord
With no intervals inside of it.

I like it :D

[Vinyadan]

A windshield approached
Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow
Ow ow ow ow ow

[Anonymouswizard]

A windshield approached
Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow
Ow ow ow ow ow

Inspired by Baldrick's 'The German Guns' I assume?

[Manga Shoggoth]

A slightly more serious example.

I wrote this as an experiment many years ago, while bored at work. The first three stanzas are (relatively) serious, however the next three stanzas are the same, but passed once through Google Translate, and the final three are passed through multiple times.


Garbage In; Wastes Outside

I stare at my computer.
My computer stares at me.
The single eye that never blinks.
The day passes, bit by bit.

The programs run; the disks drive.
Ephemeral documents written in stone.
All this served on a platter.
The sands run out, bit by bit.

The world turns; the clock ticks.
Work is no longer a physical thing.
The hiss of the fan competes with the silence.
My days in the bucket, bit by bit.

I look mean computers firm on.
My computer looks at firmly me.
The simple eye, which never blinks.
The transitions from day less by the less.

The program race; the unit plates.
In the stone written passing documents.
All this served on a tray.
The sand is exhausted little by the less.

The revolutions of the world; the ticking clock.
The work is not more a physical thing.
Whistling the fan competes with the silence.
My days in the bucket less by the less.

I consider to local means of the computers that I determine him.
My calculation considers the resolute premises.
The simple eye, of that flicker never.
Passages of the newspaper, bit of the bit.

The passage of the programs; the unit of the disc.
Provisory's Scripture of the original one on the rock.
Everything was used this in the high geniuses of the ventilator to moor for the relaunched layers.
The sand of the updated restorations of the bit of the world is not exausted, bitten;

Armor-piercing equipment of shield of the arsenal of the pulse of the detonation.
The work is not of one more a certain way a systematic test the one that that.
It whistles of breather competed to the peace.
My days in the position, bit of the bit.

[Vinyadan]

Inspired by Baldrick's 'The German Guns' I assume?

Baldrick, what brilliance
He discovered Futurism
Take that, Italians.

Blackadder's the name
You may imagine a snake
Instead it's a Brit.

Trogdor was a man
Or maybe a dragon man
Burninating stuff.

Noodles of the future
Noodles were in my first love
Noodles of the pasta

A candle's early light
So that the young sun may rise
Watch: it always works.