Oh, no. *tsks* That is much too good, Bjørnar Munkerud. You'll have to do worse than that. As for a really bad poem ... let's see ... does a haiku count? Lying there in bed trying to be intimate "Honey? Did you fart?" *drum fill* ================= All right, even that's too good. Let's try for something truly bad ... O come, muse, let us sing of cheese. Doth cheesy mixture ye not please? 'Tis milk and culture, salt and rennet - I'm sure that it will please the Senate! For cheddar's bite or milk of brie is good for you and good for me; Venezuelan beaver cheese I will not touch, for 'tis a tease. But smokéd gouda, aged and bitey-- Mmm! Whether you are poor or mighty matters not in terms of gouda; why, 'tis endorsed by e'en the Buddha. And so, I'll close this poem un-sloppy and go to Wensleydale's Cheese Shoppe! (I'm using the old pronunciation of "Shoppe", of course. The above was my little tribute to Monty Python's classic sketch, "The Cheese Shop").
Glad you resurrected this thread, If not for you it sure were dead Poetry renew to read askew Now mighty dispersed as if the year were new Contributions are barely frequent If we’re lucky, we’ll get one more recent
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? I'd better not; in summer, you get fae, and fae are frequently malevolent and rarely benevolent so I'll compare thee to a winter's day-- you're cold and quickly blow away in your brand-new and teal-coloured Mercedes to shop at Macy's for the latest crazes. So in conclusion, you're a winter's day; now do us all a favour -- go away. I just wrote that on the spur of the moment. Not too bad, considering I spent about 30 seconds on it. But considering that this is supposed to be bad poetry, the above doesn't fit. Oh dear! Bad Rath! I must do worse next time.
I had no idea haiku were acceptable here. (I thought only rhyming poetry was). Let's try a different type of poem ... There once was a man who liked wine; He'd drink at my bar and opine. He said "This is great," Then by some quirk of fate He went off and fell in the Rhine ... but that's too silly. So here's a haiku about that: I wrote a fun poem Then I wrote another one They're both too silly
I thought you were waving at me but it was somebody else and I was just sitting there like waiting for some heavenly high five or trapped in time just inches away from a heil People don't belong to you No admin privileges, bitch. I didn't even name myself or name anybody else, for that matter. But that was already established. I'm not sure why I even brought that up. The moment passed The gesture passed and wow, my hands are cold. but I must grow even younger yet before I can grow old. You're doing terrible so far, I hope you're taking notes. But missing every single bus never seemed to matter. Why would it matter now?
Upon my keyboard walked a cat and changed my poem, just like that! "Miaow," it had said and before it ate bread the poem became hfasiopqhacnupgnvduiwuhawwww.
S The Sound of seething cerebrospinal soup P is for Persistant popping up the column I is for Infernal inferences of future degradation N is for Numbers 1-5 in L E is for spinE because it sucks real bad and I hate it.
Let me guess - your back hurts, MementoMalva? As a past sufferer of the same complaint, I have several remedies: 1. soaking a hot bath; 2. using a heat pack; 3. painkillers. Also, get plenty of rest. That's all there is to it, basically. And now, here is my haiku reply: MementoMalva's back hurts Rath Darkblade suggests remedies So let's hope they help!
Groop, I implore thee, Share thy Vogon poetry with thys most humble forum, Or we shall sting thee like unto the bee, See if we don't. (Translation: sure!)
