h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Liked the article very much. Unfortunately, it seems I have a long way to go to be truly awful. I have written some poetry though. Is there a forum where I could air this? Perhaps this should be on the "ASK..." forum, but thanks anyway.

Everyone's just writing them in the conversations for this entry. Feel free to go ahead and air them .

I like bad poetry! It's so much more fun to read than good poetry.

Thanks. Here goes then. Let all who read this tell me what you think. This was written in response to a lady called Joan, who wrote similar stuff about everyone else in the office where I worked at the time. There's more where this comes from!!

Ode to Joan
or
(alternative title)
"Nothing Rhymes with 'Orange' "


In a place I really can't recall,
At a time I know not when,
There lived one by the name of Joan,
And she had a magic pen.

Whatever Joan did write, the pen
would finish every line,
And add another of its' own
to form a verse of rhyme.

At first this made a party trick
her guests would watch for hours,
But as the months drew on, the pen
revealed its' darker powers.

When Joan sat down to write a note
to any friend she chose,
The pen could not resist the urge
to add ten lines of prose.

Joan found it quite impossible
to make a list for shopping.
The pen distorted every line,
And showed no sign of stopping.

It started driving Joan quite mad,
It made her scream and shout.
Until one day she hatched a plan
to catch the bugger out.

She wracked her brains to find a word
to which there was no rhyme.
She sat and thought, and thought and sat
for what seemed quite a time.

The plan was this - that if the pen
could not complete a verse,
It may disperse its' magic power,
And lose its' wicked curse.

At last one night Joan hit upon
a word without dispute,
Which had no rhyme at all
- 'twas both a colour and a fruit.

Joan shot straight out of bed, downstairs,
Not noticing the cold.
She grabbed the pen and wrote the word,
So clear and neat and bold.

The pen responded slowly,
And with some deliberation,
Then started darting back and forth
in obvious frustration.

Joan sat and watched in some relief,
She was not one for shirking.
She felt a sense of pride to find
her cunning plan was working.

The pen it moved more frantically,
And from the paper shot,
Left and right and up and down,
Until the nib glowed hot!

A wind blew up and thunder rolled,
The sky split open wide,
And fear welled up inside poor Joan,
Where once before was pride.

And then a grim and ghostly shape
flew down upon a cloud,
And introduced himself as "Death",
In voice both deep and loud.

Death said he'd had a wretched week,
He'd killed ten thousand men,
But could not tick them off his list,
As he had lost his pen.

Joan spoke in husky voice
betwixt a whimper and a whine,
"Don't fret about your pen," she said,
"'cause you can borrow mine."

Death took the pen and said there was
a saying amongst Grim Reapers,
That if they borrowed someone's pen,
It would be Finders Keepers.

So now although Joan still does write
some very merry quips,
She promises most faithfully
to only use felt tips!

That's very good! I like it! I HOPE there are more, I'd love to read them!

Thanks. Are you praising my work as a good example of bad poetry, or a bad example of good?

Here's another. This was inspired by my mother's method of cookery, in which she routinely substitutes ingredients to make the recipe fit in with whatever is actually available in the cupboard.

--- Cake ---

I thought I'd make a cake
and send it round to your address,
But then I lost the recipe
and so I had to guess.

I couldn't find the butter
so instead I used some lard,
It won't effect the taste too much
but mixing in was hard!

And then I had an accident
- I don't think it's my fault,
'cos the label did say "Sugar"
even though inside was salt.

I found we had no flour
and my hopes went down the tube,
So by way of substitution
had to use an Oxo cube.

I baked the final product
for an hour and a half,
And when I saw the outcome I thought
"Should I cry or laugh?"

It was brownish-red and steaming
with a smell that made me sick,
In fact in most respects
it looked exactly like a brick.

The worst was yet to come though
when I tried a bit for taste,
And I found that it was absolutely bloody horrible.




The last line doesn't scan, but that is supposed to be some of the appeal. I do have others, but they may take some finding. Also, some are more than a little rude, and may not be fit for this forum