It’s National Bad Poetry Day

Give us your best/worst shot. Minus points for “Nantucket.”

  • Octavio

    Two things
    I’ve always wanted
    To do
    Step on
    A baby’s head
    Slice an eyeball
    In half with a razor.

    But first
    I need
    To take My sister
    Out of
    The freezer.


    • Brian in Valdosta

      That actually was quite good!! Damn.

      • Rebecca Gardner

        …and really disturbing.

    • Ginger Snap

      Haaaaaa! You my dear are quite twisted.

      • ColdDesert

        ah…a Bunuel fan I see…

    • Jeffrey

      That was beautiful. Ill have that etched on my tombstone.

    • GayOldLady

      That scares me!!!! Were you wearing your velvet bell bottoms? 🙂

      • Octavio

        Velvet Levis. No bell bottoms. 🙂

        • GayOldLady

          Oh, well that makes me feel better.

    • 2karmanot

      That Nantucket Sleighed me!

    • Steven Leahy


    • ExGayTherapyKills

      We are all slaves to the rich and the powerful, world bankers, nantucket

  • Webslinger

    Once he looked it me oddly
    The cat peed on my bed
    My neighbor looking at my naked form
    Dad caught me touching myself
    Spinach goes on sale this Friday
    Ran over a rabbit in the driveway


    • Ragnar Lothbrok


    • 2karmanot

      That sounds more like the Hamptons.

  • another_steve

    Reason is like a sliver of
    glass stepped on on the way to the bathroom.
    Unexpected. Not belonging.

    I return to sleep, unencumbered by the smooth and sharp
    feel of it.
    Remembering the feel of it.

    O Nantucket.

  • bkmn

    There once was a man named Tony
    Who was terribly full of baloney
    Also full of shit
    But we don’t give a rip, cause we won it.

  • Blake Mason

    I find myself
    lifting the nail
    on my dominate foot finger
    checking for fungus.

    Hanes boxer-briefs.

  • Rebecca Gardner

    Vogons Unite!

    Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
    Thy micturations are to me,
    As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
    On a lurgid bee,
    That mordiously hath blurted out,
    Its earted jurtles,
    Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
    Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
    Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
    And living glupules frart and slipulate,
    Like jowling meated liverslime,
    Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
    And hooptiously drangle me,
    With crinkly bindlewurdles,
    Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
    See if I don’t.

    • What a classic!

      • Rebecca Gardner

        I’m such a geek.

        • People4Humanity

          I posted it, honorifically, to Facebook.

        • RoFaWh

          Sorry for the inconvenience.

    • The Larry Mac

      Ah, the third worst poetry in the universe.

    • lymis

      Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings, is that you?

      • Rebecca Gardner

        The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
        They lay. They rotted. They turned
        Around occasionally.
        Bits of flesh dropped off them from
        Time to time.
        And sank into the pool’s mire.
        They also smelt a great deal.

        • 2karmanot

          That’s what happens when youz live at Windsor Castle.

      • Sean

        Fun bit: in the original radio play of H2G2, it wasn’t Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings, it was Paul Neil Milne Johnstone, a real person. Here’s a sample:

        O Douglas –
        Sweet Douglas –
        Edulcorated Douglas –

        Today we celebrate


        As we remember


        You were
        Giant –
        Both literary and

        You got into Cambridge because
        Of an essay that
        significantly figured the
        (There are
        People who
        Love you
        For that)

        Redefined a trilogy as
        A five part
        (There are
        Even more
        People who
        Love you
        For that)

        And imagine –
        If you hadn’t been born
        On that fateful Marchday
        I wouldn’t be as bally famous for my shit poetry that could make that homosexual Jewboy Stephen Fry choke on his fries as I am today

    • RoFaWh

      I don’t grok that.

      • Rebecca Gardner

        You must be very young or you’ve never read anything by Douglas Adams.

    • gawjiss

      Good work. It’s also hauntingly similar to the speech Sarah Palin gave when she became governor.

    • 2karmanot

      OMGawd….is this an unpublished Auden? Sure reads like him!

    • Fyva Prold

      I think you plagiarized Trump’s speech.

  • “My penis and your penis were walking down the street.
    When my penis said to your penis, sweet sweet sweet!”

    (Rhyme’s with Nantucket)

  • Blobby

    Burlap Burlap the softest of threads
    I love your sheets upon my bed

    Nan tucks it under my mattress
    The memory foam knows my fatness

    The burns you give my elbows and knees
    Are all I know that makes him please

  • HanyBaal

    Rubio, Carson
    Jeb, Trump, Cruz, Christie, Walker
    Paul and Fuckabee

    • People4Humanity

      Bonus point for not rhyming

      • RoFaWh

        Blank verse.

        But not in any known meter.

      • HanyBaal

        It was a Haiku…. The content is the bad part, not the structure.

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    Anti-gay Christians and
    psycho therapist
    kill gay people
    for money
    it is time to stop
    them honey

    If I had my way the frauds
    would all be gone today

    until then all I can say is

  • Snarkaholic

    There was a young woman from Wheeling
    Put into prison for stealing
    She lay on her back
    Opened her crack
    And peed all over the ceiling

    • another_steve

      A nice blend of 19th Century French Impressionistic imagery and early 21st Century vulgarity.

      Well done, Snarkaholic.

      • Snarkaholic


    • jerry

      Well done…and a WV-based limerick. I think I’ve met that woman.

    • wmforr

      As long as we’re doing limericks:

      There was a young lady from Ft. Lee
      Whose figure was fetching but Pt. Lee.
      She said, “Try to heft
      The breast on the left.
      I’ll toss you the other one Sht. Lee.

      • wmforr

        And further:

        There was a young lady from Bucharest,
        Got tossed into jail on a fluke arrest.
        The judge said in court,
        “You tart! It’s a tort!
        For that was the vice squad that you caressed.”

        • DonnaLee

          Oh I say, rhyming Bucharest makes me very impressed.

      • nocadrummer

        There once was a woman named Bright,
        Whose speed was much faster than light.
        She went out one day,
        In a Relative way,
        And returned on the previous night.

  • another_steve

    I knew Jack Kennedy. You are no
    Jack Kennedy.

    The stifling heat corrupts even the most vestal of us, O Nantucket.

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    Nan was a drag queen
    who liked to put on shows

    they would all say
    nan tuck it

    but being ballsy she would just say
    f*#k it

    • ExGayTherapyKills

      Anti-gay Christians and
      psycho therapist
      kill gay people
      for money
      it is time to stop
      them honey

      If I had my way the frauds
      would all be gone today

      until then all I can say is

      • ExGayTherapyKills

        Anti gay Christians want to kill gays
        but they have a problem hiding them in their graves

        so today they use psychological warfare
        to destroy the depraved

        you see that way they will get no body fluids or
        blood in their way

  • crewman

    I wasn’t even
    as if
    like you know

    I just met him

    He had a big
    to bring me.
    He said.

    So now he’s here
    in bed.

    He snores so loud I can’t
    sleep. I guess
    I’ll make breakfast.

  • Larry Gist

    I cannot rhyme well
    National Bad Poetry
    Thank God for haiku

  • another_steve

    There are recesses in the universe
    undreamed of.
    Lush, fertile fields of hairiness.

    Where are my keys? Where is the

    Darkness sets in, but always, there,
    in the remnant of what was,


  • Necessitas

    Roses are several colors
    Violets are violet
    You might find either
    On Nantucket islet.

    • another_steve

      The stating of the obvious with just a suggestion of hostility.

      I like it.

  • Snarkaholic

    (Can also be sung to the tune ‘All I Ask Of You’ from Phantom of the Opera)
    No more smelly armpits
    forget those filthy ears
    You stink…how can I tell you
    that we gag when we smell you
    So take a fucking shower
    you’ve needed one for years
    Have mercy on my poor nose
    And burn the reeking foul clothes!
    Let me dunk you in a vat of Lysol
    You smell worse than twenty skunks, it’s true
    Or drive through the carwash with the windows open
    Hurry up; my face is turning blue
    Please bathe; that’s all I ask of you.
    Let me buy you shampoo
    Let me buy you soap
    Please scrub your crotch with Comet
    Or else I’m gonna vomit
    And while we’re on the subject, pleas rinse your mouth with Scope
    Because to smell your breath is a fate much worse than death!!!
    The EPA has a contract out on you
    You’ve grossed out all the Joe My God crew
    We can’t stand the stench for one more minute
    Don’t delay…this place smells like a zoo!
    Please bathe; that’s all we ask of you!!!

    • TampaDink

      This is truly lovely.

      • Snarkaholic

        Thank you.

    • 2karmanot

      magnificent! No really! I mean it this time! Yes, I do!

  • CB

    Why bother? Just pick up the latest issue of “The New Yorker.”

    • Or just go to Amanda Palmer’s web site. XD

  • Rebecca Gardner

    There once
    Was a girl named Dot
    Who lived on Pig Shit
    And Snot
    When she couldn’t get these
    She’d scrape the green cheese
    That she got from the sides of her twat

    OK. that was really gross.

    • Mark

      I was eating my granola as I read. I’m suddenly not hungry any longer. 🙂

    • 2amor

      The best here, by far……

    • Rocketeer500

      Disgusting. I love it.

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    Anti gay Christians want to kill gays
    but they have a problem hiding them in their graves

    so today they use psychological warfare
    to destroy the depraved

    you see that way they will get no body fluids or
    blood in their way

  • lymis

    When we hold the mirror up to life
    We cannot be constrained
    By fear of ridicule, judgment, or arbitrary points
    Bestowed by those without the courage to see what must be seen.

    • another_steve

      Nice, lymis.

      I particularly like the triteness of the mirror imagery.

  • crewman

    There once was an island named Phuket
    where resided a man who would tuck it.
    When offered a chance to do a lap dance
    he cried, “Hey, this isn’t Nantucket.”

    • Brian in Valdosta

      Huzzah, Crewman!! I, too, was inspired to write something including Phuket but I couldn’t pull it together before I had to run off and teach a class. So again: thank you!!

  • BobSF_94117

    i’m just going to type in lower case and pretend no punctuation either just to prove i’m serious

    • Larry Gist

      you left in the apostrophe…teee heee

      • People4Humanity


  • Rex

    There once was a man who is gay.
    He lived in the closet they say.
    But when he came out,
    He did with a shout!
    And hasn’t looked back to this day.

  • ShakesbearSF

    Mary had a little limp.
    Her speech was thick and slow.
    And ev’rywhere that Mary went,
    Her feet refused to go.

  • Kevin Perez

    There once was a guy with a bucket
    Whos dick was so small he could tuck it
    Poetry sucks
    It earns me no bucks

    • Mark

      Love the Studebaker!

  • bryan

    Brian brown was in Nantucket
    Crying tears into a bucket
    When the spirit of Jesus came in thru a light socket

    oh, Jesus, Brown squeeled,
    Please get rid of the gays,
    No, I’m one of them, Jesus replied
    So put that another donut in your mouth
    And suck it.

  • Elsewhere1010

    Forgive the length, but read on and you will be richly
    rewarded. Thought by right-thinking people everywhere to be the world’s worst
    poet, Sir William Topaz McGonagall (1825 – 1902) reached both his nadir and
    acme in his 1880 poem The Tay Bridge Disaster. In it, his somewhat discordant
    muse races full-throttle across the tracks of the Tay Bridge until his last
    stanza collapses almost as spectacularly as the bridge itself.

    McGonagall himself was in deadly earnest in his belief of
    his ability as a poet, and felt strongly that Queen Victoria should make him
    Britain’s Poet Laureate. Read and judge for yourself.

    The Tay Bridge Disaster

    Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay!

    Alas! I am very sorry to say

    That ninety lives have been taken away

    On the last Sabbath day of 1879,

    Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

    ’Twas about seven o’clock at night,

    And the wind it blew with all its might,

    And the rain came pouring down,

    And the dark clouds seem’d to frown,

    And the Demon of the air seem’d to say-

    “I’ll blow down the Bridge of Tay.”

    When the train left Edinburgh
    The passengers’ hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
    But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
    Which made their hearts for to quail,
    And many of the passengers with fear did say-
    “I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay.”

    But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
    Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
    And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
    On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
    Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

    So the train sped on with all its might,
    And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
    And the passengers’ hearts felt light,
    Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
    With their friends at home they lov’d most dear,
    And wish them all a happy New Year.

    So the train mov’d slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
    Until it was about midway,
    Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
    And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
    The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
    Because ninety lives had been taken away,
    On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
    Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

    As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
    The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
    And the cry rang out all o’er the town,
    Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
    And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
    Which fill’d all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
    And made them for to turn pale,
    Because none of the passengers were sav’d to tell the tale
    How the disaster happen’d on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
    Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

    It must have been an awful sight,
    To witness in the dusky moonlight,
    While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
    Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay,
    Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay,
    I must now conclude my lay
    By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
    That your central girders would not have given way,
    At least many sensible men do say,
    Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
    At least many sensible men confesses,
    For the stronger we our houses do build,
    The less chance we have of being killed.

    • another_steve

      The increasingly dense and thick paragraphs make it increasingly likely that the reader will not have the time or patience to read to the end.

      This is an old trick of wannabe poets.

      Intellectually embarrass the reader into thinking s/he’s missed something of value, and reap the rewards therefrom.

      • Elsewhere1010

        The author has been dead for 113 years, but McGonagall’s poems have continued to be read since his death, though not for reasons he might have wished.

    • Brian in Valdosta

      Oh. My. Vishnu. That was, indeed, very bad. And he thought of himself as a good poet, you say? This poet of the Bridge of Tay? But, alas, he is dead now, hurray? Yes, hurray. And calloo callay.

    • Billy Green

      McGonagall’s poem, “The Famous Tay Whale,” was set to music for one of the Hoffnung Festivals.

  • TampaDink

    Hickory dickory dock,
    A mouse ran up the clock
    The clock struck on
    Hitting him in the head
    Turning him into a religious zealot
    He’d have fared better had he died

  • Ragnar Lothbrok

    Hickory Dickory Dock…
    A man gave me a clock

    The clock struck two
    I said lets screw

    We did it on a rock.

  • BeaverTales

    Celebrating bad poetry is like celebrating flat wine or freezer-burned ice cream. Someone will always consume it, but that doesn’t mean anyone should ever do so.

    Well, to each his own. Have fun, kids.

  • RoFaWh

    An Avatar Love Poem

    I love you because you’re blue,

    I truly, truly do.

    Blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue; I love you.

    Do we get to vote for worst entry?

  • medaka

    Do any of you Eldergyays remember America’s-worst-ever-poet, Rod McKuen? Well getta loada this. Here’s the lowdown:

  • Rex

    There once was a man who was hung.
    It’s praises, they say, must be sung.
    When it was released,
    It was quite the beast.
    But way too much meat for my bung.

    • Ragnar Lothbrok

      …He looked to the east
      I did not cease
      Then he thanked me for my tongue

  • crewman

    Nine inches said the Grindr ad
    My eyes grew wide
    Alone at last his pants fell fast
    He lied he lied

  • With apologies to House of Pain (or maybe not):

    Word to my chums, I came to drop puns!
    I got more rhymes than Riemann’s got sums!

    And another you can sing to:

    I’d do infinite summations!
    And know big-O notation!
    And integral domains!
    Do doo do doo do doo
    I would study prime ideals,
    find inductions over reals,
    If I only had a brain!

    And another, because I feel silly today:

    Now, this is a story all about how
    My life got flipped upside down
    I’ll take a few moments, cuz you haven’t got all day
    And tell you how I became the princess of LA
    In sunny San Francisco, not born, but raised
    Going to school is how I spent most of my days
    When a bunch of poets who were up to no good
    Started yelling verses in my neighborhood
    I went to one poetry slam, and my mom got afraid
    And said “You’re moving to go to uni in LA!”

    I waved for a cabbie, and there in the back,
    He had a few stacks of Sylvia Plath!
    If anything, I could tell this guy was okay!
    But I said “Man, forget it, let’s go to LA!”
    We pulled up to the school about 7 or 8,
    While I was reading up on some William Butler Yeats!
    The fare was all my money, and I was here to stay,
    So, I sat on my throne as the Princess of LA!

  • Snarkaholic

    There was a young girl from Hoboken
    Who said that her cherry was broken
    by riding her bike
    on a cobblestone pike
    But you KNOW it was broken from pokin’

  • medaka

    And, FWIW, two old limericks I remember from Dad’s stash of Playboys.

    “The length of your dong, my dear Earl,
    Is enough to amaze any girl.
    But it’s thin as spaghetti,”
    Said dear old Aunt Betty.
    “Come here and I’ll give it a twirl.”

    and (very 70s Playboy….)

    A strident fem-libber, DeVries,
    Had c*nt hair that hung to her knees.
    Good for polishing brass
    And for wiping her ass —
    And the crabs used it for a trapeze.

    Very much a part of my sexual education….

  • Kevin Perez

    And now, a short rhyming verse about upstate New York bison who push each other around:

    Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

  • A county clerk, Kim
    holds the law in her fat claws.
    A peacock, flaunting.

    Big hair, Walmart togs,
    wearing the standard armor.
    Look God, it’s me, Kim.

    I’m bearing your cross.
    Are you there, Kim? It’s me, God.
    That is not my cross.

    • Octavio

      A county clerk named Kim
      Ruled the law with her quim
      Despite her hubris she was
      Quite dim.

      • GayOldLady

        An old county court clerk named Kim
        Said “I won’t license him to a him”
        “I don’t give a hoot or a damn who he’s with”
        “I may soon need him as my fifth”

  • Ragnar Lothbrok

    War is all muck and much dread
    Sometimes with hammer and sickle
    Always many become very dead
    Remember this too, stay home- just play with your pickle

  • GayOldLady

    Holy Cow, a real poem test?
    To rank me worst, to rank me best?
    I dare not do it, I shall not try
    It scares me deeply; Me, oh, my!

    You challenge me to use Nantucket?
    Why not card, or bike, or bucket?
    It’s tough to rhyme that word, so fuck it.
    I cannot do it, no such luck it!

  • disqus_oCvsL5SBJH

    look up William McGonagall, considered history’s worst published poet:

  • kcken

    The cramping was bad
    I barely Made it to sit
    Hey, there is some corn!


    • another_steve

      I prefer traditional haiku myself. You’re missing a syllable in the third line.


      Broken dishes fall
      Like the hair out of my head.
      Where is my mama?

      • Although haiku is based on the Japanese sounds of the words, and doesn’t correlate with our standard of syllables, he’s OK with the commonly accepted American format of 5 7 5.

        Check the count, here:

        • another_steve

          He edited the third line after my comment.


          The honest man lies
          To his friends and foes alike.
          Like spilling ketchup.

  • JW Swift

    OK, we’ll try continuing the gross-out theme:

    Curly hair left on the toilet seat
    The next sitter, they decide to freak

    What’s the big deal,
    What makes you squeal?

    Some of us are more “bear” than “bare” back there.

  • Rice Pilaf? Side dish.
    I am no one’s rice pilaf.
    The kitchen is closed.

  • unsavedheathen

    Second burrito
    Why do you tease and taunt me?
    My pants are so tight.

    Spontaneous lunchtime haiku.

  • Henry Horton

    t’was going to join this
    but ‘pon readin a bit
    i think i’ll back off
    you guy’s are too good
    for my neighborhood
    and don’t really give
    a shit…
    (Subliminal “jack off.”)
    And Nan can just suckit!

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    Where O where can my Waldo be
    Hiding in a closet yearning to be free

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    Am I a soul

    That is lost in a hole

    Or Can it be that my soul

    Is me

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    Psychiatry wanted to kill us years ago

    But now for money they will hear us

    And don’t you know they still say we

    Are sick because we love Dick and Jane

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    I like Joe and I like cake

    I like muffins by the lake

  • vorpal

    Anti-gay Brian S. Brown
    Is sporting a most dour frown!
    His grifting fixations
    No longer bring in donations.
    In deep debt he will soon drown.

    Tony Perkins and his FRC
    Say that it’s the lord’s HOLY DECREE
    To stop all those gay buggers
    And give haven to Duggar’s

Linda Harvey is a big old bitch

    Who is always sporting an itch

    To make lots of noise

    And kill off gay teen boys

    As no man will throw her a pitch.

    Poor old Christopher Doyle

    For PFOX he’ll tirelessly toil.

    To his dying day

    He’ll claim to be ex-gay
But he’s just a big old pedo-foil.

    The end!

    • Snarkaholic


  • Gianpiero

    My candidate is this one by Yoko Ono (from her collection, “Grapefruit”):

    Smoke everything you can
    including your pubic hair

  • GeorgeA

    You see that word, spelt g-o-d,
    and cannot find f u k c,
    no child who spells would think it odd
    to say there ain’t no fuck in god

  • The mayor of Charleston, West Virginia (where I live), is a fellow named Danny Jones. He is a somewhat colorful character with a pretty interesting career in both business and politics. We are on a first-name basis. I wrote the following poem for him:

    The Charleston City Council hereby intones
    A few questions about the Honorable Mayor Danny Jones.

    When he was a child, did he enjoy playing with blocks?
    When he became angry, did he start throwing rocks
    or STONES?
    The Honorable Mayor Danny Jones?

    When hungry, does he reach for a box full of Triskets?
    For breakfast, does he prefer gravy and biscuits
    or SCONES?
    The Honorable Mayor Danny Jones?

    Did he ever drink to excess and chase after strumpets?
    In a brass band, do you think he would favor the trumpets
    or the TROMBONES?
    The Honorable Mayor Danny Jones?

    Does he agonize over all his past sins?
    As a parent, do you think he would prefer to have twins
    or create CLONES?
    The Honorable Mayor Danny Jones?

    Are his boots fastened with buckles, his briefcase with clasps?
    Does the city council often greet his poetry with gasps
    or with GROANS?
    The Honorable Mayor Danny Jones?

  • David Walker

    Kim Davis, Katie Lang, and Judge Roy Moore,
    More from you we had expected, but what for?
    Four weddings, awful dye job, son besot.
    Sought to skirt the law, but it was all for naught.
    Not their colleagues, their “religion,” nor their savior
    Savored sticking up for for all that bad behavior.
    Kim Davis, Katie Lang, and Judge Roy Moore,
    Go to hell and rot right now and evermore.

    • zhera

      The poetry’s supposed to be BAD, David. 😉 So you failed.

      • David Walker

        Thank you. However, Hubs is a poet and I feel sure he would gag if he ever knew about this. BTW, just to insure it’s badness, I sort of invented a “form”…the last word of a line is sort of repeated in a different form in the first word of the second line and the rhyme scheme is still doggerel. Poets everywhere would barf.

        Little known poetrivia: Hubs assures me that “doggerel” is named after the Dark Ages Italian poet, Giuseppe Ignacio Aldo Guido Doggerelli. As far as I know, Hubs has never lied to me.

    • 2karmanot

      I need a paper bag David.

      • David Walker

        Check the pouch in front of you. With the magazine and exit plan.

  • What follows is not a poem by me, but rather a prize-winning entry in the Julia Moore Bad Poetry Contest, which used be held at a library somewhere in the Midwest. If you read this out loud, preferably with strong Scottish accent, you may find yourself collapsing into a giggling heap.

    By Anthony Sutton

    Wha ha!?! A teensie buggie
    Currillt up besite my bazemint pottie?

    Did ye fell victim t’ma lethal sprays meant t’kill all ye vermin
    Who dares inside my hoose to trottie?

    I sees a chunkit’ meal besites thy dessicated frame
    Twas laced, ye knows, wi’ killing likker. What a shame!

    Did ye consume th’ dire, dour an’ deadlie poison greedily
    In hopes that it’d sate ye speedily?

    Or did ye jus’ bloonder by and get entrapped
    As the purply gas from the can o ‘Raid unwrapped?

    Och! Ha’my hort does bleed ta’ see thee
    Curllitt up like a small dead insect unseemly

    With those sixteen teensie clawfers
    Clenched against th’ fate that life had offered.

    For sure, whiles’ y’were an ugly vermin
    Now brought low by lethal fluorocarbin

    • Robert William Alexander Jr.

      I’ve posted some of Julia A. Moore’s (1847-1920) below…She is in the pantheon (or maybe odium) of terrible poets..And a fav of Twain, Bierce, Burgess…

  • My late Mother’s favorite:

    I was standing on a bridge one night
    The sky was full of air.
    Someone took away the bridge
    And left me standing there.

  • Lawerence Collins

    There once was a drag queen from Nantucket, his junk was so big. It was impossible to completely tuck it.

  • Uncle Sal

    Could everyone please note that you lose points for using “Nantucket”! Ah, fuck it!

  • Clive Johnson

    From my Redneck Haiku files:

    When Jesus comes back,
    The skeptics will be slaughtered.
    Come now, Prince of Peace.

    Hand me that cold beer
    before I slap you again.
    Let’s make love tonight.

  • John T

    “Bad poetry”
    is redundant like
    “wet water”

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    There once was a young lad named Spam
    He would eat nothing but Virginia ham
    One day he found
    The world was round
    and then he Nantucket

    • KQCA

      Thanks..I got it. I needed that belly laugh.

  • KQCA

    i’ll have to sit this dance out; I got stumped trying to rhyme “Jervis.”

    • Robert William Alexander Jr.


      • Octavio

        Pervis, nervous, chivalrous . . . and so many more. 🙂

        • Robert William Alexander Jr.

          preserve us, unnerve us, perv us…

  • MDB

    I once loved a boy
    We made love on a rock

    I loved him so much,
    His smell and his touch

    Alas he’s no more,
    Twenty years gone plus four,

    The only boy who captured my heart.♥

  • JDM

    National Bad Poetry Day? Wasn’t that the other day when what’s-his-name recited his “poetry” at the re-opening of the Cuban embassy?

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    I fell in love with a military man
    His eyes were blue and he lived in a can
    in Nantucket

  • dalnat

    night a dark warden
    we’d hang in dark art
    wander a dark night
    dark wan death ring
    warned a dark night
    hang dark dire want
    pay no heed cried vein
    a dark drawing then
    i rang the dark dawn
    dark dawning heart
    gnaw’d the dark rain
    ending a dark wrath
    went dark hard gain

    [ ]
    [ 1st constraint : the same word appears in every line* ]
    [ 2nd constraint : every line is an anagram of all other lines* ]
    [ *save the one in italics ]

  • An Ode To Joe On Bad Poetry Day

    Monday through Friday, Saturday and Sunday too.
    If it’s a day ending in y, I usually come to stew to a wonderful blog
    with the giant header of #112233 blue.

    On JoeMyGod (.com – update your bookmarks) while sitting on my
    tail, I find many stories of which I avail, but as an elder gay, it’s what
    I like to do (and you certainly won’t find me on fucking Facebook).

    Joe has quite a following, a virulent homosexual activist, he holds much clout.
    To Porno Petie, Pat and Tony, Brian, Matt and Maggie, he’s quite a threat.
    Vanquish them, flying Monkeys! DuggarDuggarDuggar, he will he shout, as we
    rout them out.

    The stories here have a theme, we’re gay and it seems, we




    We’re here, we’re queer, we’re straight, bi or trans. All allies, with out a doubt, but fuck all of the labels. It’s too much propaganda. We just want to be out.

    We freep and we tweet, argue, fuss and fight, but mainly upvote into the wee hours of the night. Who’s day was it to control the weather? Not mine! Troll in the dungeon! Thanks, Obama! Your comment was offensive! FTW! +10! Calm down, Mary. Can’t we all just get along?

    Jesus Christ, it’s Bill Perdue.

    How many years have I spent here? I can’t even count. All the little boxes, I know you by name, not ticky-tacky, not all the same. Friends, you have kept me quite sane.
    (I hope I have done the same.) Who do I have to thank for that?







  • Robert William Alexander Jr.

    a classic of the genre:

    “And now, dear friends, what I have wrote
    I hope you will pass o’er
    and not criticize as some have done
    Hitherto heretofore…”- Julia A. Moore

    And then there’s G. Gordon Coogler’s

    “Poor South! Her books get fewer and fewer.
    She was never much given to literature..”

  • Greg B.

    No Nantucket. Oh okay…

    There once was a man from the Cape
    Whose penis was bent out of shape
    He attempted to shoot
    On his trick’s leather boot
    But instead stained the custom silk drape

  • TomF.

    jiggle sheet
    mensch triplets
    cough wicket
    death plaque
    Zorro feet
    pullet gherkin
    bandy finch
    gull’s guess
    flag wheel
    mystery supper
    guava jerk
    – June 3, 2015

  • 2karmanot

    In a Preface by CS Lewis to Paradise Lost:

    “Disobedience to conscience is voluntary.

    Bad Poetry,On the other hand,

    Is usually not made on purpose.”

    His Preface is sublime hostess,

    To an inspired, elegant gnosis.

    “Disobedience to conscience is voluntary”

    Where the supernumerary is voluptuary.

    “Bad Poetry, On the other hand,”

    Is the lack of merit made grand,

    “Is usually not made on purpose,”

    But offends the soul and hurts us.

    Would that bad poets up and die,

    Before they even try,

    To wound language

    And make us cry.


  • fastlanestranger

    Roses are red,
    Violets are blue.
    I like peanut butter.
    Can you swim?

  • Canadian Observer

    Isn’t this all based on the questionable conjecture that is such a thing as “good” poetry for it to be juxtaposed against? I have long thought that in arts, poetry is, at best, a form of decoration.

  • ” You did not know. You did not ask. Now you scold me in my mask. You did not show me. You did not task. Now you hate me in my mask. Well just pull it off and take a look. It is you you see in my mask.”

  • Steven Alan Taylor

    A Haiku poem
    Often doesn’t make sense.

  • EdmondWherever

    In one hundred twenty-two days,
    JJ Abrams had best mend his ways.
    That flare of the lens
    may suit Kirk and his friends
    But for Skywalker it will earn no praise.

  • drlouie

    I slit a sheet
    A sheet I sit
    Upon a slitted sheet I sit

  • JRBuckley

    I couldn’t come up with anything. But I am reminded of that poor young girl whose poetry was so bad that it rivaled that of the Vogons and, thankfully, perished with her during the destruction of the planet Earth.
    (H/T: Douglas Adams)

  • Tom

    P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }


    Nan tucked it in a bucket and there I
    could not find it.

    She hates it and berates it but I
    myself do like it.

    It wiggles and it giggles squirming
    with excitement.

    Nan knows it and deplores it, such
    is my allotment.

  • ExGayTherapyKills


  • ExGayTherapyKills

    They hacked

    my crack

    in nantucket

  • ExGayTherapyKills

    Roses are red

    and so are you