Archive for the ‘bad poetry’ Tag

08/20/2022 ❤️Bad Poetry Alert❤️   2 comments

After receiving a few interesting emails and poems on my recent “Feet” posting I decided to offer up some of my own Bad Poetry for your entertainment. In my opinion poetry is best when humorous.

I just saw a sexy painted red toe

Peeking at me from a nearby sandal.

It looked soooo damn cute

It was almost more than I could handle.

As it sauntered on by

Four other toes caught my eye.

Oh my! Oh my! I felt such a tingle

And followed along hoping the owner was single.

I raised my head a tiny little bit

To checkout that anonymous owner.

And all of a sudden, I unfortunately discovered

The loss of a perfectly good boner.

😃😂😄

07/02/2022 💥Bad Poetry Alert💥   1 comment

As always, I offer up more questionable poetry. Some people like this style and some do not. To me that makes for what I call “bad poetry”. If everyone loves and understands it, then it’s “good poetry”.

😞❤️😞

I rush down the highway of my life.
Hoping that things I need and desire, will follow.
To feel, see and experience, the love, hate and strife.
Hear words that mean something and nothing, hollow.

The need to experience and taste it remains key.
The search for the reverse of me continues, can never cease.
Passing years and people have changed how I am able to see.
My mysterious other self demands fairness, the ultimate release.

A quantity known but not known comes to me after flirting.
Near hopes end a miracle occurs and love blossoms, smell the flowers.
Feel intense love, caring and gentleness, no more hurting.
That for which we all search is now mine and hers, ours.

The years of love and caring release me from my chains.
My life quest finally realized, my soul with its mate.
Melting together, love and tenderness growing my heart can’t explain.
My lover has taught me, what counts is love, not hate.

YOU’VE JUST RECEIVED YOUR DAILY DOSE OF BLAHHHHHHHH!

05/05/2022 More Bad Poetry   3 comments

Enjoy the holiday!!

Poetry is an enigma to me. I wouldn’t know good poetry if my life depended on it and even the bad poetry that I sometimes see doesn’t sound so bad. Anything that confuses me like that makes it impossible for me to take it too seriously. After a recent Bad Poetry Post, I received a few e-mails with samples from some of my readers. I assume they sent them because they thought they were bad, I don’t really know, so you figure it out. I think the first one was sent to me because I’m from Maine and someone thought I might be interested in Moose poetry. Good luck with that one. Here it is . . .

A moose is like a bull on stilts
With a silly kind of head.
And if one of them sat on you
You’d probably be dead.

Do you really think that’s bad poetry? It seems okay to me but nothing special. It’s a little bit of truth with a little bit of silliness. Here’s the next one which I really don’t understand about a Toad. It’s a little weird but kind of funny. It seems more like a limerick than poetry but when you get right down to it there isn’t much of a difference.

The story that is told
By a severely flattened toad,
Is of evidential failure
In attempts to cross the road.

This next poem hits home for me primarily due to my advanced age and secondly because it brings back memories of my favorite grandmother who passed away a very long time ago. See what you think.

💖

Of love and marriage who can say, which
way these things can go.
A loving wife, a shrieking hag, no one
will ever know.

The years of youth have come and gone,
with memories good and bad.
The happiness of family, the love of mom
and dad.

The years should teach you something, or
so we’re always told.
Remain yourself no matter what, and mellow
when your old.

Your life is filled with happiness, and
sorrows big and small,
But not until your old and gray, will you
understand it all.

It is a shame that through the years, this
knowledge lies unused.
Erring and blundering again and again,
with help and advice refused.

So, think about the elder ones, grandmothers,
grandfathers and such,
Who’ve experienced life’s many problems,
and could help you oh so much.

Their days are few in number, and once
their gone it’s sad.
Accept their help and listen close, to the
experiences that they’ve had.

And when they’ve gone, you’ll think of them
the way they used to be.
The memories are all you have, but that’s
enough you see.

🌯🍹🌶

ENJOY YOUR HOLIDAY

04/30/2022 Bad Poetry Alert   Leave a comment

Today we’ll be introduced to what might be called something less than a romantic love poem. For those of you out there who worship at the steps of classical poetry, I apologize. I like my poetry a little more down to earth and accented with a bit of humor, be it erotic or rude, you decide. This was written some years ago, but it took a long time for me to actually decide to blog it. Anyone who knows me from that time will understand the fun of it, I hope.

PUPPY LOVE

First love is a thrill you never forget,

It sends a warmth through your heart.

Fifty years later the memory remains,

but the feelings have fallen apart.

How to recall those wonderful days,

when the freshness of things made you wish,

For the love a girl with beautiful hair,

in a field, all alone…

Do you smell fish?

04/25/2022 More Bad Poetry   1 comment

Slow Dance

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping the ground?

Ever followed a bird’s erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun as it fades into night?

Do you run through your day on the fly?
When you ask, “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?

When your day is done do you lie in your bed?
With the next hundred chores running through your head?

You’d better slow down don’t dance so fast.
Life is short and the music won’t last.

Ever told your child, we’ll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste, not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch and let a good friendship die?
Cause you never had time to call and say “Hi”

When you’re running so fast to get somewhere,
You miss all of the fun in getting there.

When you rush and worry all through your day,
It’s like an unopened gift that’s just thrown away.

Life isn’t a race. Do take it slower,
Listen to the music before the song’s over.

MORE TO COME

04/15/2022 Bad Poetry Alert   6 comments

Today is the start of a better day than yesterday. Today I’m assured of at least another year before the cancer might return. A good doctor’s report makes for better days ahead. I can stop obsessing over this whole cancer deal until October when I’m due to be scanned again. So, what better way to pass the time than throwing some bad poetry your way. I wrote this many years ago during what I used to call the I-don’t-give-a-shit days. And believe me, I had plenty of them.

❤❤ It’s near in the mist. ❤❤
It watches and waits,
as its urges flicker to life.
A stroke of the hand,
a kiss in the dark,
and a seed is spilled
near your wife.
Some call it desire,
others haven’t a clue,
I see it near you!

03/30/2022 More Bad Poetry   2 comments

As my contribution to the current culture, I feel a real responsibility to donate something to the cause. Since I’m not a poet, I have the right to have some fun with poetry in general. I’ve never really had an appreciation of poetry and all of the flowery and descriptive emotions that are thrown around so freely. Since I’ve never heard most of those pretty phrases used in normal conversation, they don’t feel real and meaningful to me. I like my poetry to be more down to earth without all the BS. Here’s another beauty for you . . .

OLDIES

Be Bop A Lula, She’s my baby, I’ve loved those lyrics for years.

In the backseat, we hummed right along in between all of the beers.

I stroked and stroked her beautiful hair as the Coasters sang “Charlie Brown”.

Off with our clothes and tickled her toes as we turned our frowns upside down.

Those oldies had a wonderful rhythm that made our hips get the beat.

A kiss on the neck, a breast in my hand, and a cop with a flashlight….

Shit! It’s the heat.

It’s certainly no Robert Frost piece of work but that’s okay by me. He wouldn’t like my work almost as much as I don’t like his. I wrote this little ditty when I was in the ninth grade and Sue didn’t appreciate it either.

Roses are Red

Violets are Blue

Poetry Blows

And so, does Sue.

03/24/2022 😝Bad Poetry Alert😝   2 comments

NIGHT PARTNER’S❤

Gurgle! Gurgle! Sputter! and Pop!

Those strange night noises

that just won’t stop.

Bad dreams of dragons and

monsters continue,

What I really need now is a

cork to put in you.

😫😫😫

One of these days when we

both least expect it,

a terrible thing will occur.

Instead of gurgle, sputter and

pop, you’ll be gone, nothing left,

but a large brown wet spot.

ISN’T POETRY MAGICAL?

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