Posie ponies prancing proudly Get gangrene going gallantly Many Misses miss their Misters Trying tears toppling trivially
I want to be The Best I want to be the best But I’m not ready for a test I’ll need time to get good ’Til then I’m deadwood I won’t let go of my resolve All excuses I’ll absolve The best is my aim Not money or fame I’ll never give up And I’ll never give in And I won’t end this conquest Until I’m the best
Add a few inane choruses and some "oh"s and "yeah"s and I bet you could get One Direction to put this on their next album.
There was a old man from Fargo who wanted to stop an embargo He tipped his hat to his cat But forgot his nap and couldn't start his Winnebago
You inspire my bad poetry night, like every single word. You are the stench of putrid puns, and you overtake my mind with the hideous sound of your clanging off-pitch cords. I want you in my life, though; but only for this reason. You inspire me to write every evening, due to disgust of knowing you. And we thank you for this. But don't take this as gratitude, this a selfish tactic-- to stay distant, as you need a Tic Tac. ~#A
Humpty Dumpty fell off a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, Who pushed him? It was the government...
I like to write poetry, about the human condition, Except I can't rhyme for shit and this poem was about hunger, incest and the duality of man
27 crickets all went and bought their tickets to see Lady Gaga at her fantabulous show. Each of them arrived; they danced and jigged and jived, but there was something very crucial that they did not know. Lady Gaga was not there; in panic they did stare, at the act upon the stage: Really Hungry Crow
It's ironic how all the bad poetry in this thread results in more genuine emotion than most "real" poetry.
You're reading the wrong poetry. Biscuit cheese nose I often thought Trembling Thoughtful Argy argy argy Ragged bow, bo, bo peep, boh, bo, bo selekta The DJ is man's new God
It's kinda interesting isn't it? Maybe Wayjor is right and I just don't read the right stuff but I think there is something appreciably uninhibited about trying to write bad poetry with overwrought imagery. It doesn't make good poetry but I think being free to be bad makes people try in a different way.
Way too deep, my friend. Way too deep. It needs to be more like "I hate cattle. They're awful. Bit you right in the behind. I like sheep, though. They're fluffy. Yay!" or "Last man, Earth man // Come see the white van // All I ever wanted // Was to watch that horror film". Something nonsensical, you know. You can't just go around saying something actually plausibly meaningful!^^
The last man on Earth saw that he could do anything he wanted Wanted he anything do could he that saw Earth on man last the To his horror Horror his to He wanted nothing Nothing wanted he
Last night I ate in (a bad poem) Not tonight, but last While working, hardly at all, on my poetry, I decided my food a good tool, To explore my creative pool, What is poetry if not letters arranged, Sometimes I look at things differently than I used to, Like yoghurt, Like you, dipped in yoghurt, Yummy yummy yoghurt. Yucky yucky you, Now I hate yoghurt. The point is sharp Stabbed am I My poetry runs from me, Like last nights curry Splendid... Splendid. Now I hate curry. If I raise the money, Maybe I can do this for a living, Writing, writing, writing. Sometimes, staring, staring, staring Sometimes, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming Sometimes, nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing! Like a hole. There but not. Like an empty yoghurt pot. Alas, I feel I'm not up to full potential, That damn curry distracting me, With stomach complaints, And general unease Still less complaints than my, poetry. This really is, like what I release from my bowels, And it smells, I was not cut out for poetry, Can I start again? Have another go? Is that...'NO!'
Three blind mice bumped heads, Turned around, And took different paths, But because they were blind, Not one survived.
