Write Your Worst Poem

[dbesim]

This is a thread for awful poems. Write the worst poem you can.
You can write it on the spot or contribute one you’ve already written.

There was a lady who liked fishes
Couldn’t make wishes
Put them in quiches
Liked walking on beaches.
.. where occasional fishes
Lapped up the shore

 

[Louanne Learning]

My character in a roleplay is a poet-scientist, but she’s not a very good poet. This is something she (I) wrote -

Beaver, beaver, oh beaver,
to you tribute I pay—
you make work look like play—
gather up ye sticks while ye may—
for tomorrow is another day!
Like magic, you build a home of your own—
your industrious is shown—
without whimper or groan—
may you never be alone!

 

[CatrionaGrace]

We fell in love
Then he fell out
I buried his body
Beneath the drain spout.

 

[murff]

I suggest that people write some of the worst poems while trying to write good ones, and inadvertently write good poems while trying to write bad ones. What is good or bad is entirely subjective.

 

[Louanne Learning]

Here's my character's latest poem:

“Oh wind, fair and foul, foul and fair,
Heave ho, heave ho, across salty air,
Our compelling sails capture you,
We take advantage, through and through,
“Press forward!” we cry, until hoarse.
Our three-masted ship stays the course.
Not the water, nor the clouds, shall daunt
Our resolve on our little jaunt.
Begone fear, go on, walk the plank,
And we have one another to thank.
We will make the sea clear again.
Bet on it—and aye, aye, Captain!”

 

[murff]

Here's my character's latest poem:

“Oh wind, fair and foul, foul and fair,
Heave ho, heave ho, across salty air,
Our compelling sails capture you,
We take advantage, through and through,
“Press forward!” we cry, until hoarse.
Our three-masted ship stays the course.
Not the water, nor the clouds, shall daunt
Our resolve on our little jaunt.
Begone fear, go on, walk the plank,
And we have one another to thank.
We will make the sea clear again.
Bet on it—and aye, aye, Captain!”

You should write more poetry. Personification is a great avenue.

 

[Altani]

Oh come, this child, and hear the tale,
Of a lady who ne'er drank ginger ale,
Who once was wrote a poem for naught,
Who once a writer wrote a jot,
Saying "she breasted boobily down the stairs,"
Her breasts, they did invite their stares,
Her breasts, they were of writers' not,
Worth a whittance, nay, worth a jot.

Her breasts, boobily did they trance
And ere a woman could look askance
A man drooled high upon the loft
And high was he, and lo, was soft
Amassed a mass, but not of church
And with his eyes the man did lurch

And when she breastily boobily down those stairs
The Care Bears released their Care Bear stares.

 

[Louanne Learning]

You should write more poetry. Personification is a great avenue.

Thank you! Okay, I will!