Bad Poetry – 1st Place
Ode to a Booger
by Nick Borho
Moist as the morning dew
Sweeter than a honeysuckle
From whenst I first picked you
I knew it worth all the trouble.
You, I could not flick away
With a fleeting, careless gesture,
So on my finger you shall stay,
Verdant as a summer pasture.
If only you were so forever.
I should keep you so if only able,
Glistening beyond man’s measure,
I would wipe you under the kitchen table
And preserve your emerald treasure.
Alas, I could not stand to watch that fate
On the table wood you’d dry and cake
Losing the beauty that once was young
So instead I place you upon my tongue.
A taste I shall cherish.
Bad Poetry – 2nd Place
You Are a Dick
by John Whitney
(my logic is as follows)
you are reading this poem
because you are a friend of mine
I have asked you to
in order to obtain feedback
you will inevitably lie to me
telling me you enjoyed it
this makes you a dick
you are a writer
reading this poem
in order to keep an eye on the literary scene
all writers are dicks
this includes you
you are a patron of the arts
hunting for a suitable artist
of considerable talent
yet modest means
to take into your patronage
you have lots of money
this will draw attention away from how you got
it by being a dick
you are an editor or publisher
to whom I have sent this poem
in hope of turning a modest profit
you will reject it
due to limited appeal
poetry doesn’t sell
and you’re a dick
you bought this poem
in a book of poems
to read to impress your girlfriend
you probably think good poetry rhymes
you dick
this poem
was in a book
mis-shelved in your favorite section
you thought you might give poetry a try
since you saw it was cheap
on sale too
if I’m right about the section you found it in
then you’re a dick too
I have died decades ago
you are being forced to read this
against your will
by your teacher
you hate poetry
read it dick
Bad Poetry – 3rd Place
Symbiosis
by E. Gail Chandler
Wildebeests move slowly
have poor eyesight.
They hang out with zebras
who see well
signal danger
are easy to follow.
Zebras rather like this arrangement.
Lions always catch
the trailing wildebeests first.
So, my mate
of thirty years,
is it love or just the stripes
on my broad ass?