Yes, it’s Bad Poetry week, here at the blog, where we take my birthday week and enjoy sharing with one another the worst poems we can create. If you’re a sensitive, deep, and misunderstood soul, then we WANT your crappy poem gracing the blog! All you need to do is go to the “comments” section and type in your words. Share your deepfulness and reflectiveosity with others. The badder the better. Have a look at some of the rotten stuff that was written in the previous day’s blog, just to get a feel for the mood. For example…
Tom Threadgill gets us going with this truly terrible opener:
“Knock,” he said to no one.
Since he was alone in the room, so alone.
(Unless you count the other people in the room, which he
didn’t. Sometimes he did, but not this time.)
Deep. Meaningful. Bad. And crime writer Steve Jackson shares this:
I was there
Then I wasn’t
like the water in the toilet
swirling down into lead-piped emptiness
carrying with me the byproducts
of my broken life…
So… dare I say it? Truly crappy, Steve! I’m sure everyone will like the fabulously bad images Neal Worle shares with these wretched words,
My love for you fills me,
a flooded basement.
I must not drown,
I bail out my heart.
This poem I write,
a sump pump of love.
And we are immediately thrown into both brightness and badness! Becca Jackson takes a thoughtful tone with:
I was walking on the streets
bare and rusty, like someone’s
half-drank bottle of underwear
”Am I a play thing?
Have you no conscience?
I say, Who died and made you king?