McAnally's (The Community Pub) > Display Case
Shall I Compare Thee To A Mooseburger aka The Bad Poetry Thread
Sorryman105:
I refuse to attend the award I know will show up for this thread for the best bad poetry. I'd probably pee a little for laughing to much.
Bob:
--- Quote from: Blaze on June 25, 2008, 03:50:21 AM ---I wouldlike to award Bob a ribbon for using the word Logorrhea. Thank you, Bob.
--- End quote ---
Thank you. While it's easy to write mediocre poetry, writing bad stuff is much harder. Finding just the right pretentious term, forcing rhymes, inappropriate subject matter, incongruity, and insipid meter are difficult to bundle up into one work.
Blaze:
Yes, I know. My business card actually lists Bad Poetry on it as one of my specialties. It is a rare and wondrous thing to Muse Ick and dance. ;D
Purpura:
I'm a bit of a poet, but I've forgotten the correct Iambic Pentameter beat so this poem goes here... It's not too bad, just sad...
The hands of my grandmother
When they were young they felt different things
Ribbons bows clothes and strings
The feel of tree bark
Toys, maybe a Noah's ark
When they were older they knew
the weight of a wedding band, clothes of blue
and other colors. Diapers, baby clothes for three
The touch of my grandfather's hands, Car and house key...
They aged more, and soon a baby girl was held
and eventually my brother. She changed diapers that smelled
Or at least my mom did. Her hands lost plumpness and became bonier
and in 1980, with the love of her life passing away became a little lonelier
She moved from Florida to Washington DC,
Hands of her children helping far from Atlantic sea.
She decided not to cook very much
but her hands still loved with every touch
Her children, her grandchildren and a great granddaughter
I am far from these loving hands across many miles of land and water
These hands now lie still, though they helped her eat, and wipe away tears of joy and grief,
and put shoes on her feet. Now they hold a handkerchief.
These hands once so active lying still
Me, forget her hands, I never will.
Time wore them out, with wrinkles and spots,
knuckles more visible, and arthritic knots
May my hands be just as loving as hers
for the children - my darling daughter's
When She has grown up and gotten married
As time sails on and never has tarried.
Blaze:
:'(
Sniffle....
sniffle...
Wahhhhhhhhhhh.
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