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

Tell me how bad is my verse.
I doubt that you've ever seen worse.
I grant that it rhymes.
It's got some nice limes,
reverse. in writ is line last The

You're primus inter pares on this thread, paul
Without your intelligence and skill this thread would fall
Your verse is the worst best
Or best worst, like this, like most of the rest,
That's all.

[High praise indeed]

Jabs

Thanks for your praise, Jabberwock.
I like how in Latin you talk.
We seem to inspire
Each other for higher
Achievements, like redcarpet walk.

[That last line refers to the Golden Globes awards tonight. Imagine an award for worst poem of 2010...]

And the winner of the award for best character in a bad poem 2010 is:

The Thinker's neighbour in "My neighbour is driving me round the bend and other stories"

Thanks Pebblederook

Here's a message to my dear Earl,
please don't send me anymore expensive pearls,
just give me chocolate walnut whirls,
and pay for me to have a perm with lots of curls.

I want an end to this war of attrition,
and end to our psychic partition,
with a promise to eat foods full of good nutriton,
as well as listen to our inner intuition.

I don't want to marry a politican,
or a highly paid mathematician,
nor a scientist with a strange mission,
or a magician who follows a radical tradition.

All I want is you,
and I'll follow you all the way to Peru,
searching for the lost gnu,
or go to India to get advice from a guru.

I hope that that neighbor's not real.
An hour of her would make me reel.
But that would explain
The effect on the brain,
And more that I cannot reveal.

Yes it's Dr. Seuss's, Sam I am,
who eats a lot of yam's,
given to him by Pam,
along with a supply of nam,
bread and pots of jam.

He would not like them here,
unless supplied with a pint of beer,
which will take away all us fear,
and fill with much needed cheer.

Does not like green eggs and ham,
even if served with slices of roast lamb,
nor with a wee dram ,
or he'll go and runaway on a tram to Siam.

My upstair's neighbour is real,
and she loves to squeal,
whenever on the telephone,
about her joy of living in the twilight zone.

She loves to make a meal,
and make a big deal,
of the slightest noise,
when she's listening to her loud music which she enjoys.

Loves to throw around her furniture,
which is to her is a great adventure,
or even banging on the wall,
in the vein attempt to make her look more tall.

My garden has become sad.
Even the violets are blue.
Gladiolus is not glad.
All of them are missing you.

are we not one of the earth
no! because a mouse can't be a worm
one's a chicken and the other isn't
hero's are neither, but few in number
even though they're not henpecked
I'll stand my quarter and still eat cheese
but birdseed isn't for me

I'll never eat birdseed, no sir,
(It grows into birds, and that's odd!)
Nor anything covered with fur,
Nor chutney with mangoes and cod.

Chutney is something that I rarely see,
And I'm pretty sure that it rarely sees me.

I saw a see-saw, but the see-saw didn't see me saw

Nelly the elephant packed her bags,
filled with all her best glad rags,
along with all her favourite mags,
and a collection of coloured flags.

She left the circus,
in her ever-expanding Ford Focus,
filled with the smell of hibiscuses,
and crocuses bought in Damascus.

We all live in a yellow submarine,
but the interior's coloured green,
to free us stress and make us all feel serene,
when ever we the song, "Dancing Queen".

Skies are blue and are filled with flying gnus,
who all have a black belt in kung fu,
with a diet of chocolate fondues,
which helps them dance the pas-de-deux.

The poet sees hibiscus and skies of blue,
But I see gray skies and rain and snow.
I wish that I could see those, too,
But how to do it? I really don't know.

Every month I play a tune,
on my wooden spoons,
before reading the runes,
at every full moon.

A dreamer, an organ grinder, and a sage
Gave a party to celebrate Spring.
They had a phoenix in a golden cage,
And fed it marzipan to make it sing.

There's one thing in life that works without fail:
A nice casserole of carrots and kale.