Friday, July 8, 2011

Fan-Based Fridays: Write an Awful Poem

I know I should post a bunch of examples of my own horrifically bad poetry today, but my plan so far is to make Fridays fun for readers (and for me, of course). Your task? To write the worst poem you can come up with, along these specifications:

1. Your poem must use a high level of emotion--
anger, angst, love, depression, bliss--
you know, anything that might make a reader
writhe in his seat.

2. Your poem must rhyme--or try to. The more
obvious and pathetically awful the rhyme
the better.

3. Your poem must use a cliche. More points
scored if it uses more than one.

4. Your poem must use an obvious symbol of the
intense feeling you are trying to convey.

Of course, nothing is more awful than a poem that doesn't fulfill any of the poetic requirements, so treat these as guidelines, to be dropped when they don't suit you. And for those of you who claim you don't understand poetry, give me a break. Don't write in that you would write a poem if only you knew how. Just put the godawful thing down, and make it crappy!

And don't try to show us all up and write something brilliant. That does NOT fulfill the assignment, and you know it.

1 comment:

  1. The Blind One

    They called the man "the blind one"
    And they looked through pity's eyes,
    Their eyes on such a barren man
    Who'd grown, too late, too wise.

    His eyes, once blue and laughing
    Have grown sad and darkly slate,
    And though they call him "blind one"
    He could see, but far too late.

    His eyes, so self-reliant
    Had once gazed at her with scorn,
    Her face so pale, uninteresting,
    Her long hair unadorned.

    Her eyes were pale, a common gray,
    But plain, though clear and bright,
    With nothing really there except,
    With him, they'd grow alight.

    She loved him, nay, adored him--
    All could see her love-sick daze,
    And she had not the wiles to hide
    That soft adoring gaze.

    All knew, he knew, suspected
    But he laughed at e'en the thought
    That with this sallow, boring girl,
    His future could be caught.

    Even hearts of constant faith
    Can only wait so long
    And she had never really dreamed
    His heart could come along.

    So, she had left, unloved, alone,
    But loving in her flight
    And when she'd gone so far away,
    She died one lonely night.

    The rain poured down that fateful night
    She gladly met with death.
    With whispered words of love for him,
    She spent that final breath.

    And he was home, relieved, alone,
    Relieved that she was gone
    Though he didn't know her soul had flown
    Before the wake of dawn.

    I hope you are satisfied.