Here’s my entry on my own writing prompt contest I opened up late last night. Directions are over here. Cheers.
Prepare yourself. Take a deep breath. This week’s Terrible Poetry Contest theme is love. My entry is below. Best of terrible luck to you. May the bard’s strings break and curl from hearing your poem.
The Green Love
My love for you is like pickles, my dear
You’re like a giant pickle yourself.
Wrinkled, vinegary, tart and you make my mouth pucker
But frogs, my dear–consider
Will never croak our love ballads out the way you do
Birds fall out of the sky, dead at your winsome, cat crying tones.
Screams! My love for you is but a ballad of curled beards
Curled like your toes made of mahogany wood
Oh my dear, I sigh in love
Like a dill pickle.
-A. R. Clayton
Oh, I’m a Gonna Go!
I’m a gonna go out where the wind durst blow
Sand in my knickers and mud in my toes
Where cow pies rightly disappear and the crickets eat them dangburned rusted bandoliers!
Where the guns don’t get to shootin’,
Where there’s no high brow falutin’
And everyone dances ’till half past three…
If you need me, why that there where’s I’ll be…!
In the Land of Absolution…!
There’s too much fun to be had at this week’s Terrible Poetry contest. Have fun and keep writing. ✏️
Let There Be Light
I don’t mind the cold or that white stuff they call snow
What I mind is the lack of light, if it’s forty days in a row.
Something kicks in, some hibernational urge
And I find myself laying in bed
Snoring a symphonic dirge
– A.R. Clayton
Want to take a try? We’re here, cheering you on. Happy writing. ✏️
Haven’t done a Terrible Poetry entry yet? I hide my face in shame. Go thither, you knave, and join the peons trying to out write the worst of you.
regret entry is below. We were ashamed assigned to write a jingle this week by Sensei Owens. May it fill you with discomfort and tears at how badly it is. Cheers.
Here’s my entry. Join in on the fun here. The instructions and rules can be found via the link. Good writing and good luck! 🎃
There is a being, you see, upon this evening’s brow;
two stories up, where the night’s extinguished candle was used to enshroud.
Over the flame she turned, over their breath she heard, their pensive dishes of gruel and meat,
their spoons clashing, bread ripping, as they spoke of things without understanding;
without understanding at all.
Notes of music spilt onto the wooden floors; clanging mouths and spit soon sealed every door.
A rush away, chains soon met.
Truth was heard whispering nevermore;
it was beckoned back through the Hall’s front doors.
Now with violence ripped and pages fell,
Darkened calendars and lighted gold,
the lady of the manor haunts her lonely, ever darkened but discreet,
Hey, you there. Yes, you. Go to Chelsea’s page and submit your own Terrible Poem take on Unusual Ways to Make Money. Read the rules, mind the PG rating and dive in. We need fresh blood of the terrible kind.
My entry is below. I took a different turn with this one. Crack on.
Continue reading “Terrible Poetry Contest Entry: Entropy”
Lightning has hit twice. I have won the Terrible Poetry Contest for the second glorious time. And everyone rejoiced and roasted Oxford commas over cozy bonfires.
Want to join in on the terribleness? The new contest opens tomorrow. Check out Chelsea’s page for details.
Interested, fellow Arcians? Tail feathers all in a kerfuffle in anticipation? Are the bird louse just making you itch to jump in and participate? Then fly on over here for the shimmy and saddle on up to join. Keep on writing.
This month’s prompt: a place that inspired your writing.
Check out the prompt here, Arcians, to join in on the fun. I chose the third option, to write about the above image.