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BAD POETRY SPECIAL
A Note from the Judges:
There once was a Poetry Editor
Who asked for bad poems to be sent to her.
"These are awesome," she said,
When she sat down and read,
"But I still like good poems a bit better!"
Thanks for all of your entries! Enjoy the bad poems!
A Bad Poem About a Good Place
I know that I love Neopets
It is the very, very best
And when I think of it sometimes
I want to talk about it in rhymes
I play the games here every day
And it is fun for me to play
I want to write about it more
I will write with rhymes galore
I think that I like Faerieland
It is the very best of the lands
The clouds are soft and very fluffed
Like cotton balls and other stuff
Meridell is a nice place
But King Skarl has a grumpy face
I try to tell him lots of jokes
But he never laughs at all us folks
Maraqua lies beneath the waves
With seashells, kelp, and hidden caves
It makes me want to take a swim
But I don't have any fins
You know that I love all my pets
I send to the Neolodge for a rest
I even bought them a Neohome
And now I wrote about them in this poem.
By the Emo Usul Shopkeeper, to Herself and the World
they whisper to me
in the dark
the stars at night, they cry for
and weep bitter tears upon the
why are we so alone?
why is eyeliner is my only respite?
in a world so dark and so
at night i can only hear the sound
of my heart
and the stars
and i clutch at an ebony mirror,
streaming down my face
and i whisper from a voiceless throat
why must it be me?
wasn't i good enough for everyone?
i don't care
all i need is my twisted roses poster
because music is my life
and i cry
for the loneliness
for this lonely usul girl
and her broken heart
into many many pieces.
(Pensive word): to a (colour) (pet)
Grand pronouncement on
Nature of the universe.
Invocation of pet of specific colour.
Overuse of dashes because sentence
Makes no syntactical sense --
Lavish description of landscape,
Notes on weather,
Questioning of purpose of life?
Reaffirmation of self,
Passing mention of Neopet colour,
The Worst Poem of All
I am writing poetry now,
Which you can see is very poor.
My grammar's lacking,
My sentences clipped,
Enough to knot the lightest brow,
And leave the kindest soul tight-lipped.
My poem nears completion here,
By Fyora how bad it is!
My punctuation has abandoned ship,
The flow is chopped like meat,
The readers snarl and critics sneer,
Their disdain is heard far down the street.
My poem is now finished,
Into the rubbish bin she goes!
My terrible diction is simply fiction,
And the rhyming hardly fares better,
Indeed my poem is foully blemished,
By a concept as twisted as briar.
But I feel sorry for this awful poem,
So I found it a home in the dumpster.
Bad Poetry from a Skeith
I used to be OK at writing poems,
But now I don't do so well.
When I try to think of rhyming words
I end up with things like well, shell, and bell.
None of those words really work
In the context of that line,
But I guess like glue they're stuck there,
And with that I guess I am fine.
Did I just use guess twice in as many lines?
That was probably not a good idea.
It doesn't flow as well as it should.
Like an invisible pet I'll make it disappear.
Or maybe I won't change it, you know,
Because that would require extra work.
And if there's one thing Skeiths are good at
It's... uh... something, something, jerk?
It must be time to stop here
Before I make this poem even worse.
So I'll leave you with an 'adios!'
And a terrible ending to this verse.
YOU KNOW IT'S BAD WHEN IT'S ALL IN CAPS
BAD POEM IS BAD.
BAD POEM TALKS NOT OF
METAPHORICAL FALLING LEAVES, NOR
EXAGGERATED PRAISES OF
QUITE ORDINARY SUNSETS,
NOR SYMBOLISM SUPPOSEDLY
TUCKED WITHIN EVERY
OBSCURE OCCURRENCE OF NATURE
A POET'S MIND CAN COMPREHEND
BAD POEM SHOUTS;
BAD POEM NONSENSE SPROUTS;
BAD POEM IS DEEP MESSAGE WITHOUT;
AND BAD POEM IS ESPECIALLY
FORCED RHYMES ONE DOUBTS
BUT BEST OF ALL,
BAD POEM IS memorable
BECAUSE YOUR MOST PROMINENT
MEMORY OF TODAY WILL BE THE
PROCESS OF TRYING TO
LAST VERSE OF MINE --
(AND YOU KNOW, THE THING
ABOUT BAD POEM is that it gets
BADDER and BADDER.)
bAd p03m i5 BAD
& 0n th1s bAd p03tRy d@y
i haV3 rly 0utd0n3 mY5elf,
if a p0et m@y s@y s0 h3Rself.
W3LL, 0ff u go n0w --
bUt m3th1nks y0u'v3 @lreadY
f@!nted 0n the sp0t. Oops.
My Weewoo Hates Bad Poetry
Poetry, poetry, poetry,
Why nothing rhymes with poetry!
At least, nothing that fits with this poem.
A limerick I attempt
Yet sorry stanza I create.
A haiku I want to write,
I am so lame.
No syllables fit together,
Merely bunches and inelegant lines.
If this is a poem,
A Weewoo is on my shoulder
I don't blame him.
He is staring adoringly at another Weewoo
Whose owner is flourishing in witty rhythm.
He chirps delightedly, happy as a muse.
My own gives me the stink-eye.
I bleakly try again,
Sending my quill scratching across the page.
Novelty the Weewoo chirps a sigh.
Looks away, winces at rhyme.
I grit my teeth.
If there were a contest for bad poetry.
Boy, oh boy, I would win.
My Poem... It is Original!
My poem, it got rejected here,
It's junk, I don't see why.
The story was ORIGINAL,
And worked to catch the eye.
It was about a normal Lupe,
A clumsy one at that.
Who moved to somewhere with much rain,
And grey clouds, always flat.
There the Lupe did make a friend,
Another Lupe, you see.
One who did avoid the sun,
Moved fast as fast can be.
Could it be he wasn't right?
No normal Lupe at all?
For when he stepped into the sun,
He glimmered, did enthrall!
Alas, strange Lupe did flee the scene,
Another took his place.
Then we see he hides one thing,
He's of the Werelupe race!
So vampire Lupe and Werelupe fight,
Their world stands at the brink.
Will they unite? Just wait and see,
I'll call it 'Dusk', I think.
I know, the poem, it would have rocked!
Like story I sent in.
About a normal Chia lad,
And story doth begin.
He does find out a secret grand,
He is a wizard, true!
Then goes to school, fights magic foes,
Makes two close friends there too.
I don't get why the judges won't
Accept my work at all.
"We think we've heard that one before,
Try again!" They scrawl.
Perhaps, and I suspect it's so,
My work is just too fine.
Otherwise, with such ideas,
Why would the judge decline?
Why I Lyke Neopets
Wockies can be red,
Chombies can be blue,
This is a cliche poem,
But plz don't go... boo.
I just rly like Neopets,
My Shoyru is so, so, so cute,
Especially when he's playing
With my old boot.
I love Neopets also,
Cuz I like the games and stuff,
My fav is Kass Basher --
That game is really luff!
I like doing my dailies,
Cuz free stuff is just so cool,
It's so much better than boring things
Like going to school.
I actually do enjoy Neopets,
For all these reasons, not just one,
I swear I can write more eloquently too:
But sometimes writing bad poetry is fun!
A Great Non-Poem
Here it is, a straightforward note,
Getting straight to the point gets my vote.
Without misleading or changing the topic,
Here are my views, from a declared cynic.
Poetry is a most terrible thing,
Instead I think we all should sing.
With a fa-la-la, and a fa-la-loo,
Hey, look at my rhyming couplets too!
Back to the original point at hand,
Poetry is just so bad and bland.
A book I much prefer to read,
To the flowers of novels, poetry's the weed.
Books are much better for throwing at folk,
If they don't react, I poke, poke, poke.
Poetry is too leafy and thin,
It's suited much better in my bin.
I hate poems, and love to talk,
Only silly poets rhyme "talk" with "fork".
Except for me, I'm far too special,
Besides, I use a fork to eat my bagel.
As my message is almost done,
I will now impress with some singing action.
Because singing is much more worthwhile,
By the way, this is all freestyle.
Repeat after me, we start with fa,
And after that a double la.
Better than poetry already it is,
Fa-la-la, now shake and say, 'fizz'!
My non-poem is now at an end,
But on my singing you can always depend.
To sum up my point as nobody else could,
Poetry is bad; singing is good.
The Most Awesomeness Poem Ever by the Greatest Villain to Ever Live... Ever
Are your knees sore?
Too bad, bow down to me!
Stop your pathetic weeping,
And your sorry plea.
For I will not listen,
Because I am the great Dr. Sloth!
You will do as I say, now.
While I... iron some cloth?
Why is there nothing that rhymes with Sloth?
Yes, it is because I am so unique.
Beautiful hair, awesome smile,
Stunning and attractive physique.
I know you want to be just like me,
But you can't.
You can be my minion, though,
That honour I will grant you.
Or just grant. That rhymes with can't.
Now as much as you like
Reading my words of wisdom,
I have evil things to do,
Why is there nothing that rhymes with wisdom?!
i tYp LyK dIs
i hav a neopet
and i luv luv luv her 2 infinity
her fur SHINES lyk d sun
we always hav fun
in d park
not in d dark
bcause i'm rlly scared of ghosts
she and me lyk 2 eat toast
neopets is totally awesome
and full of life
cuz of it i feel no strife
OMG NEOPETS ARE FUN AND
NEOPETS ARE CUTE!!!!!
NEOPETS ARE AMAZING AND
OTHER PEOPLE HAVE NO CLUE!!!
NEOMAIL ME, YOUR READER YOU!!
I WILL NEOFRIEND YOU!!!!
i luv cute_fluffy_bunny_123
and i know my lupe
(no she's not a cybunny)
and dis is d end of dis awesome poem
made in d poet's awseome home
plz plz plz pick me pick me
plz cuz its hard to rhyme lyk forever!!
Neopian Cliches - An Ode to Bad Poetry
They say to write good poetry,
You should not use cliches.
It's bad form, and it's boring,
And it just never pays.
But today's theme is bad poetry,
So please don't have a Kau!
cliches can be lots of fun --
And we can use them now!
So let's take the Minitheus by the horns,
And ask ourselves if we are men or Miamice.
For it's true Neopia is fruitful ground,
For cliches, both rude and nice.
Maybe we can write a poem
About good Grarrls and bad Kois.
Or nice Kois who finish last
When they try to Make Some Noise?
But hold on to your Unis,
As there's even more to write.
We still haven't talked about
Spooky Petpets that go bump in the night!
Well, Ghostkerbombs away,
And we'd better not forget to try
Myncis who go bananas
Or Elephantes who never lie.
Alas, we're on our seventh verse,
This poem's nearly through.
I had more fun than a Snorkle in mud --
And surely you did too?
A Bad Name Poem
I once met a Chia, his fur was of blue,
his name: Triple D underscore fifty-two.
I lived on Krawk Island, well, he lived there too,
My friend Triple D underscore fifty-two.
I lived with my owner, a person like you,
but not Triple D underscore fifty-two:
For he'd been abandoned, but what did he do?
Triple D underscore fifty-two never knew.
'Til one day his old owner, from out of the blue
came to see Triple D underscore fifty-two.
He said, "I was foolish, without any clue,
when I named Triple D underscore fifty-two,
Strangers would tease me, the insults they threw!
At the name Triple D underscore fifty-two.
It made me embarrassed to see quick-ref view
and read 'Triple D underscore fifty-two'.
So I went to the Pound, a decision I rue,
and left Triple D underscore fifty-two.
The deed had been done 'fore I realised what's true:
A name's only surface, friendship: through and through.
Since that day, in regret, I could only pursue
a dearly missed pet without whom I can't do,
if he can forgive me I'll feel like someone new,
proud to own Triple D underscore fifty-two!"
The Very Best Poem About King Kelpbeard's Moat
This is the very best poem
About the very best subject,
It's not long as a tome,
It's about King Kelpbeard's moat,
Which is kind of moat-y, I guess,
(At least that's what it said when I got the note)
And it even kind of rhymes.
Awful Rhyme All the Time
And now it is time
For a bit of rhyme
I'm sitting in my chair
Eating a lime
And a Chia Pop that's
The flavour combination
Is quite sublime
(This is so terrible
It should be a crime)
What's this? A knock?
Perhaps a neighbour from across the block?
Oh dear, how can I answer
When I have lost one sock
If my footwear does not match,
Why, I'll be too ashamed to talk
With my vain and nosy neighbour,
If it's she who's come to knock
(If any real poets saw this
They would never cease to mock!)
I shall not answer my door,
It would surely be a bore,
But I trip over my Doglefox
Who had started to snore.
He yips indignantly, but he
Curls up to sleep once more,
And soon he is asleep
In the middle of my floor.
(Augh! Why did I do this?
My own verse I do abhor...
This sheer lack of skill
Is surely a curse
But if I can't rhyme
Perhaps I should try free verse?
Then again, that might be worse!)
I once wrote a poem,
it was named "My Poem",
it had no rhythm,
nor did it fit any algorithm.
A Korbat flew in the air,
the Haunted Woods made the pets scare,
I told you this poem has no direction,
it sits in a pile of rejection.
Oh, why the wind breeze past Faerieland,
why the monuments in Lost Desert stand,
Oh, why cannot I write to save my life,
In life, for the best we all strife.
I once wrote a poem,
it was named "My Poem",
it had no plot,
left in the dirt, it was to rot.
Total Poetry Pages : 1880
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