Bad poetry

[Heliomance]

I'd post some of the stuff I wrote age 14 or so, but... I don't think the thread could take poetry that bad.

[golentan]

Poem.
A poem.

A poem by me.

[Vinyadan]

Sometimes when I scream
People stare and cross the street
Guys, take a chill pill

[2D8HP]

As my mind slips away
and my guts turn to clay
I'm consoled by
also hates sports

Burma Shave

[Vinyadan]

Many things exist
Others never came to be
Objective critique

[enderlord99]

Swamp in the heather. Summon the grapefruit cavalry.

[AuthorGirl]

I'd post some of the stuff I wrote age 14 or so, but... I don't think the thread could take poetry that bad.

No, please! I'll do the same, with some stuff from when I was eleven!

Won't do it unless you do, though

[Vinyadan]

Roses are red
Candles drip wax
Man trades baby
For fifteen Big Macs

(not mine BTW)

[KillingAScarab]

System mastery is overrated
when creative failures leave you frustrated
Seventeen levels I couldn't fill
with story enough to fit the bill
I tried to plow
but that's fallow now
The character is dead
inside of my head
It plays with the ghosts
I already host
And so I await
new play-by-post bait

[Tvtyrant]

This line
Does not rhyme

I
Love
Me self referential
Poet
I

We use irony
To mean serendipity
Because ironic
Is easier then serendipitous

[Lionheart]

Here's one I submitted for a university assignment.

I.
I am.
I am writing.
I am writing a poem.

So far,
It isn't going very well.

[Vinyadan]

My eyeball sobs
For my head throbs
To forget my headache
I'll eat a cheesecake.

[AuthorGirl]

My eyeball sobs
For my head throbs
To forget my headache
I'll eat a cheesecake.

an online wisdom
staring at me from my screen,
it's unconventional

but it feels reasonable
I like cheesecake

[2D8HP]

Gandalf battles Nazi's on the Death Star

film at eleven

By Crom's rotting liver
I hated High School

[truemane]

Here's one I submitted for a university assignment.

I.
I am.
I am writing.
I am writing a poem.

So far,
It isn't going very well.

That's actually not bad. I'd change the last line to "It's not going well" to make it shorter. It's funnier if it reads quicker.

ANYWAY.

I'd love to post some of my early-teen WHAT IF THE CEILING IS JUST, LIKE, SOMEONE ELSE'S FLOOR, MAN, poetry, but alas, it's all lost to the ravages of a thieving ex. I can still remember the very first poem I ever wrote, but it's actually quite good. The next few dozen, which I can't recall, were really, really not.

And so I bring you the following:

*AHEM*

Frozen pond.
Stupid frog.

Splat.

*BOWS*

[Vinyadan]

Discerning danger roaming highways unknown
Misfiring, and pathetic slothful goons
Upgraded empowered sharpened spoons
Inflict precise passé esprit alone.

[Velaryon]

When I was in junior high or so, I read this Dilbert comic strip, and was inspired to expand it into a full-length poem that took up about eight or nine pages in a pocket-sized notebook. Sadly, that notebook is long lost to the ravages of time.

Then in the mid-2000s when I was a recent college grad with no idea of what career I wanted to pursue, and was still working my crummy seasonal job at the Follett warehouse, we had an evening where we went on "exception time" (meaning the sorting machine broke down so we stopped working and sat there waiting for it to be fixed). I was incredibly bored and began writing a bunch of haiku which I later posted on my MySpace page. Unfortunately, I didn't think to copy them somewhere before I deleted said MySpace page, so they're gone now.

The most memorable of them went something like this:

Giant metal fan
Spinning slowly up above
But I am still hot

[KillingAScarab]

Then in the mid-2000s when I was a recent college grad with no idea of what career I wanted to pursue, and was still working my crummy seasonal job at the Follett warehouse, we had an evening where we went on "exception time" (meaning the sorting machine broke down so we stopped working and sat there waiting for it to be fixed). I was incredibly bored and began writing a bunch of haiku which I later posted on my MySpace page. Unfortunately, I didn't think to copy them somewhere before I deleted said MySpace page, so they're gone now.

The most memorable of them went something like this:

Giant metal fan
Spinning slowly up above
But I am still hot

e Follett dot com
which I depended upon
so someone else would hunt down
the books I used in another town

those boxes are nice
I still have them
thank you

[Some Android]

Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart
Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart
Fart Fart Fart Fart Fart

It's a haiku.

[Wookieetank]

Haikus are great fun
Something goes on this line here
Please use Burma-Shave

[Peelee]

Haikus are great fun
Something goes on this line here
Please use Burma Shave

I hate shaving enough as it is, I'm not gonna go to Burma to do it.

[Wookieetank]

I hate shaving enough as it is, I'm not gonna go to Burma to do it.

Burma-Shave used to (1920s-1960s) have road-sign poems on multiple signs in a row, each sign being a line in the poem, and ended each poem with Burma-Shave. Once I found out about this, I throw it into the end of my poems anytime I can as a lark

[Vinyadan]

Embarrass rises seeing English rhymes
observe iambic rhythm, forgetting how
Germanic accents first-syllabic plough:
Inversion be applied profuse, sublime.

[Jay R]

My favorite bad doggerel that I wrote composed* is the "Culture Medley".

Spoiler: Spoilered for length

Show

A bunch of the boys were whoopin’ it up in the Malamute saloon.
The kid that handles the music box was hittin’ a jag-time tune.
Back of the bar, in a solo game, was Dangerous Dan McGrew,
While the vessel with the pestle held the brew that was true.
Beware the Jabberwock, my son, it falls on field and tree;
And there sat Captain Washington, to teach it harmony.
Old Macdonald had a farm, in Imladris it dwells.
He played knick-knack on my arm – it’s baked by little elves.
Clap your hands if you believe, wi’ the auld moon in her arms,
With Jerry Mathers as the Beaver – he’s got Lucky Charms.
One ring to rule them all, from sea to shining sea.
It’s a small world, after all, that’s made for you and me.
Timid and shy and scared am I, of things beyond my ken;
As dry leaves before a hurricane fly, the South shall rise again!
Pride goeth before a fall; the whole world loves a winner.
Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall; Ich bien ein Berliner.
No new taxes, read my lips, I do not choose to run
The face that launched a thousand ships. God bless us, every one.
Happy days are here again; can you spare a dime?
We’re looking for a few good men, and now, it’s Miller time.
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, in a kinder, gentler nation.
It’s a clear call and a wild call, for station identification.
Give the gift that keeps on giving, sealed with a kiss.
Better thing for better living – can your beer do this?
What’s up, Doc? Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.
That’s no one’s business but the Turks, with tender loving care.
Gil-Galad was an elven king, who had a very shiny nose,
Thine alabaster cities gleam, and this is how it goes.
O, wherefore art thou, Romeo, in a yellow submarine?
Whose woods these are I think I know – watch out for that tree!
Do you like green eggs and ham, wrapped up in a five-pound note?
I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I am – follow the yellow brick road.
Go ahead, make my day, and with the girls be handy.
In summer, quite the other way – would you like some candy?
Be all you can; I love you, man. God shed his grace on thee.
Hakuna heigh-ho fragilistic bibbidy chim cheree!
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner, to talk of many things.
He’s strong to the finich, ‘cause he eats his spinach, and we must tell the king.
The mate was a mighty sailin’ man, with a banjo on his knee.
He took his vorpal blade in hand, and never used a big, big D.
Casey stood a-watching it, in haughty grandeur there,
That’s because he’s smarter than the average bear.
But I am a Bear of Little Brain, and long words Bother me.
Oh, frabjous day! Calloo! Callay! To be or not to be.
Let the joyous news be spread – to grandmother’s house we go.
Shoot, if you must, this old grey head, but remember the Alamo!
Who is the tall, dark stranger there, that saved a wretch like me?
They threatened his life with a railway share, for the snark was a boojum, you see.
It came upon a midnight clear, where no one’s gone before,
Frankly, my dear, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.
Oh, somewhere in this fabled land, the sun is shining bright,
A band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout –
Vorpal fu, no breasts, two stars. Joe Bob says “Check it out!

*It's all my own creation, but I did not write a single line of it.

[Jormengand]

My favorite bad doggerel that I wrote composed* is the "Culture Medley".

I giggled multiple times. Well done.

[Vinyadan]

http://www.sinfest.net/view.php?date=2000-06-27

[2D8HP]

I must assume that when I posted a poem

On a sporting occasion...

of staggering awesomicity, folks in the Playground were too in awe to reply, and knowing of my stunning humility, they did not want to intrude.

But in case fans of truly great poetry didn't read that thread, it would be wrong to hold back from more eyes the composition:

On a sporting occasion someone of ocular persuasion
said in conversation
how I hate this all this row
what care I which way the ball will go
I plan a game much more thorough
spin and spin around I go
on one side a cup of poison
on the other side water
a blindfold so which I will not know
I care not what I will lose
I care not what I will gain
for I am sure I'll feel no more pain
existence has my disdain
let us see if I another breath
for
Also, I don't fear death!

Also, I hate sports.

[The Eye]

Should I be charging you commissions to serve as your muse?

[Peelee]

Should I be charging you commissions to serve as your muse?

Always charge. They're under no obligation to pay, of course, but can't hurt to send an invoice.

[2D8HP]

Should I be charging you commissions to serve as your muse?

O for a Muse of sight, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for an Eye...

No.

Absolutely not.

No way.


Yes


Say... you're a man of the world, squire.

I mean, you've been around a bit, you know, like, you've, uh...

...what's it like? Also, I hate sports, and that pizza deal was no deal.