The Fifth Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Just read that a woman named Chelsea Owens has been doing poetry contests every week. When I saw this I was super excited and all the poems I’ve read so far are really interesting and funny. Although some of them have made me think: why have you done this? 

 

 

Some rules for the contest that Chelsea made:

1. The topic is ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. This is my LEAST FAVORITE poem in the entire world -whenever it’s parodied. Therefore; I normally feel that every idiot who goes about with “‘Twas the night before Christmas” on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart; but this week you’re getting a pass.
   Strangely enough, I love the original. I have at least three favorite stanzas in there.
2. What’s the limit? For the love of my own sanity and yours, please keep it to eight or nine stanzas, maximum. That’s about the point of the original where we read I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
3. It’s gotta rhyme. At the end of the line. Make it fine.
4. Remember, remember: the poem needs to be terrible. Clement C. Moore (or, Henry Livingston, Jr.) will want to visit you each hour the night of Christmas Eve to warn you of an angry mob of poets waiting for your death, should you ever write that way again.
5. Keep it PG-Rated. Kids might climb up on your knee and ask you to read it to them.

Link to Chelsea’s post on the contest.

 

My poem:

Twas… Honestly I don’t remember,

Wait it’s not even day?

Wait Charlie stay!

I know its a holiday so don’t go to room,

Cause I know if you do your mom is going to beat me with a broom.

I know you’re sister is staring at my wallet,

Daring me to say she can’t have any money,

I know your mom’s glaring at me.

Fluffly I swear if you don’t stop bearing you’re teeth at me!

Wait its December?

I honestly thought it was November.