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Hello to all at Jingle Poetry and the whole Promising Poets’ Poetry Café  and Thursday Poet’s Rally Gangs:

In thanks for the wonderful award with which I was (mistakenly) honored yesterday, I thought I would show you and all my Gentle Readers what has been filling my trashcan lately, as well as  Excellence in Bad, a special Blog Page for writers of bad poetry.  Join me and J.P. Cabit of House of Happy, and see how bad the art of poetry can get, and how much worse you can make it!  😀  All contributions are gladly accepted!

Here are three of my “worser pomes:”

The Ballad of the Unread Poet
© 2011 Paula Tohline Calhoun

In vain she has searched
     (Feeling besmirched
     By all the unchurched
          yet unwashed –
Who read not her work
     But dismiss with a smirk
     Like she’s some young Turk
          and unwashed.)
Now, how on earth did this start?
     Oh yes!  she was falling apart
     In search of readers with heart
          though unwashed.
But she’s found no one who’ll care
     To read her abominable fare
     With plenty of guts to spare
          all unwashed.
But without rhyme or meter
     She has neither fan nor reader
     Alas!  Are there none to heed her
          so unwashed?

Latin 101
© 2011 Paula Tohline Calhoun

Omissa spe!
Maybe. . .
On second thought:
Just perhaps.
On the other hand,
I could change my mind.
Six of one, 1/2 dozen of the other
More or less.
But you know what They say –
(Silentium aureum, noli turbare
is what I say)
Chatty folk, They are –
“Carpe canem!”
But, moreover, id est,
“Carpe canem magnum!”
and “Caveat diem!”
But I can’t caveat my diem
without my canem magnum. . .
What is there to do but
change ships mid-stream?
Unless the two pass each other
in the night.
In which case,
I must carpe noctem.
Even so,
I still need my
canem magnum.
So from now on
and heretofore
when I seize
it will be to
Tom Selleck capere.
Now, I’m on a roll,
gathering no moss
but a lot of wool.
In any event –
in other words,
Res ipsa loquitur.
So why am I?
Nimis multa! – Et
Silentium tantum.
Sort of.

But is it really bad?
© 2011 Paula Tohline Calhoun

Well, is it?

Can poetry ever be
Really and truly
Very bad?
If I had
I wouldn’t be here
Nor shed a tear
Or wonder ever
And I mean never
If poetry
can ever really be
Wish I had. Not.
Very, very, very bad. (really, I mean it)

Here endeth today’s lesson in bad poetry.
Paula Tohline Calhoun, BP. D, MBP
Associate Professor of Bad Poetry
BP University, USA

Come on, people! You didn’t think that was OIL gushing out of that uncapped well in the Gulf, did you? NOOOOOO!!! That awful, rainbow-slicked disgusting sludge and huge load of tar balls was none other than the results of an explosion of an overloaded reserve of Bad Poetry! And the sad fact of it all is that no matter how hard we try to clean it up and erase it all by distributing vast amounts of anthologies by Dickinson, Cummings, Auden, Frost, Williams, Nash, Whitman, Shakespeare, etc., we will never completely rid ourselves of BP, because the reserves of gasbags out there are limitless and infinite.

If you have any questions regarding financial restitution for loss of GP* during the above-mentioned “spill,” please contact the Department Head, and Professor of BP, Dr. J. P. Cabit. I’m just his hired underling. Since he is a “genuine unpublished Bad Poet” his financial resources far outstrip mine. You can reach him by pressing here.

*you figure it out. . .

Hope all my poet-pals and/or all my Gentle Readers) had fun reading these.  They are a lot of fun to write, although they can lead to a genetic mutation causing an elevation in your silliness output, with concomitant rhyme and meter loss.  Worth the risk, I say.

I also say, “That’s enough. . .”