I love to write bad poetry. I love to read REALLY bad poetry. I think we need a new thread dedicated to the writers, readers and lovers of bad poetry.
Submit the worse garbage you can write (and still declare it poetry) below. Perhaps the best one will win a prize or something.
I’ll start
I liked that one so much I submitted it to poetry.com in their contest. 
Something tells me I’ll win something from them for it.
Vogon poetry
Will be mentioned here, I know
It is for certain.
A haiku:
Garbage is yucky
Full of trash and much weird stuff
Dog try to eat it.
Small bird
Ugly pooping
Stupid car hit bird
Ode to a Post-It (by the way, my previous pem is entitled Bird Poop Sonnet.
Ah my only Post-It.
There’s only
one
Post-It for me.
This one.
Even though
it sticks not
to
me
or
anything else.
The sticky strip
is
covered with
glorious
belly
button
lintOn Calling a Poem a Pem
Dmub shyte.
WTF do you think yer doing?
Punctuation challenged as well?
I’ve submitted this one before, but it’s worth another shot, since it’s one of my most inspired:
Banana Skin
It’s a pealing;
But it’s not appealing.
It’s a pealing;
But it’s not appealing.
And of course, it’s Sunday morning and I can’t spell worth a crap. Peeling, for cripes sake…the other way would be for my poem Bell Clapper, which is entirely different…
Here’s something I wrote in 5th grade. I was so proud of it then.
I am a pink eraser
I eliminate mistakes
The only thing I don’t like
is it blackens up my face!
Many years ago, a friend of mine was leaving his job to open a new dance bar in Greeley, Colorado. He told me that I could write the first men’s room graffiti. Given that the town is very agricultural (and smells it), I needed something apropos to both the men’s room setting and the town’s main industry. So I wrote a dirty poem about nihilistic cattle…
Angus first met Maybelle at the barnyard dance
She showed him her marbling when once she had the the chance
They’d stand there, playing “Shisk-kebab”, making Maybelle squeal
He’d say, “You lay, Charolais?”… she’d get full of veal
As the happy couple ages, in practice for the hooks
Maybelle starts to worry more about the way she looks
She works on her new diet and the Nautilus machine
In hopes that maybe someday, she’ll get stamped “Safeway Lean”
Angus gets all wet-eyed, seeing her sliced and ground
But it’s her true ambition: to be sold by the pound
'Cause she knows life’s true meaning, to be beef bourguignon
To lay there with the taters, and some good sauvignon
Maybelle only has one wish about the way they drop
She wants to die encoupled, with Angus up on top
So when they cut him off her and they’re shipped their separate ways
She’ll be a bone-in rolled roast, complete with fine bernaise
Oh, haikus. I like haikus.
My dark soul
is
dark…
like the dark of night, my soul is
black.
I am black as night.
So dark, my soul…
All beef hotdogs fill my eyes
potato buns hug the little guys
ketchup calling the mustard out to play
pork and beans on a little paper tray
but as i search for the pork in the sea of beans
…
Oh, I can’t work like this!
Roses are red,
Your lips are blue,
Next time you ice skate,
Try not to fall through.
My boyfriend used to live with a couple- Holly and LaDara. One night at the apartment, Holly whipped out some love ‘poetry’ she had written for LaDara. I only remember the first two lines, because after that my eyes started to cross, and if I read anymore I never would’ve been able to keep my composure. It went like this:
“My heart feels like it’s fighting a battle
My heart feels like it’s up a creek without a paddle.”
Sweet Jesus, it was terrible. When Holly asked me what she could rhyme with"Paddle," all I could think of was “cattle.”
Hmmm.
Saddle
prattle
addle
rattle
fiddle-faddle
tattle
All perfectly serviceable for this kind of poetry.
Rubics Cube Haiku
I hate rubics cubes.
Has anyone ever solved one
without breaking it?
I love bad poetry when everyone knows it is bad. But, when the author doesn’t know it stinks, things get tricky. Do you laugh? Cry? Kick them?
Let me see if I can finish that poem for them.
When I saw that poetry.com made you fit your poetry in a box, I decided to write the worst entry possible. I guess since they loved it, my good stuff must be Thomas fucking Stearns ;):
I like candy,
sweet, sweet sugar-spun melt in my mouth
as I munch,
as I crunch.
Yum…
O, candy, thou art to me a sweet delight.
I love to eat it thusly day and night
but you must be brushed away
before the light of day
or else you’ll cause tooth decay!
Oh, woe
how sad I’d be
if I couldn’t have my sweet candy.
I know this is bad so enjoy and don’t get a tummyache.