Hey, kids! It’s National Poetry Month!
Wait — don’t go, come back! Poetry is cool! I swear this will be fun! And mostly painless!
Here’s a short collection of some of my best poetry fails. See, I made sure this was short. So you can enjoy them. Or not. My guess is you won’t unless you’re drunk.
Do Iguanas Smoke Marijuana in the Sauna?
There once was a girl from Maine
Who’s musical taste was urbane.
She jammed to Nirvana
On the streets of Botswana
Hold up — that makes no sense…
but what else rhymes with Nirvana?
OK, sure sauna…maybe iguana…
But I’m not entirely convinced
I can make a connection there.
And urbane doesn’t describe Nirvana,
hmm…maybe I should look up
the definition again
just to be sure…
Annnnd now my rhythm is off,
(Writing poetry is like, super-duper hard.)
Highway to Hell
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one everyone else did,
And now I’m stuck in traffic behind an 18 Wheeler
filled with three farms worth of cow manure,
diesel seeping into my pulmonary veins,
my bladder bursting with jumbo-sized Mocha Lattes,
while my kids play “Stinky Feet” and “Who Can Fart the Loudest?”
and the deejay announces they’re kicking off a three hour block
of Justin Bieber.
Please, Be It Far From Me to Tell You How to Sleep. Or Die.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
God forbid that were to ever happen,
because then I’d get some f***ing rest.
So please! By all means, rage, rage against the dying of the TV’s light!
and blissfully snore like a wild boar that’s being slowly castrated while trapped inside a cavernous abyss of hell where every snort vibrates with the power of a million jackhammers and I think the wall is going to cave in and crush us both to death, I pray.
Rage, rage….that’s it. That’s all I got. Just rage.
Happy Poetry Month!
Feel free to leave a good poetry fail in your comments.
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