The worst of the worst is what follows. The author’s names are omitted so that our failed writers can’t be mocked, scorned or otherwise chastised for participating. Recall that the winner is to receive a 15-decade rosary from me. Pray that you find something you actually have a gift for – poetry ain’t it.
The winning entry combines concern for animals with commentary on society in such a despirited way that it only could have appeared in a High School literary magazine. The utterly futile compostional scheme of putting single words on alternating lines is remarkably bad.
NUT
i stand at the
zoo
and feel the rail in my
hand
as the elephant cries a great pachyderm
tear
large enough to hold the world and with a
blink
it falls and turns to mud upon which the
zookeeper
steps never even realizing or if he does he keeps it deep within his
heart
with who knows what pains caring for these
prisoners
bring that he grinds the world to mush under his dung-crusted
boot
and i wish i could give this great thick-skinned brother of mine
a peanut
but the sign says don’t
humans can read and so say they’re better than
animals
which can’t but if i couldn’t read i would give the elephant
a peanut
who is the
beast
here can you tell me
Next is honorable mention for a concept piece the author didn’t actually wish to enter. Its brevity and use of a word that I had to look up in the dictionary made it necessary for me to consider it.
But is causing someone to read poetry like THAT a near occasion of sin? 14 out of 20 casuists say ‘yes’!
This writer needs to work out some anger management issues but the end of his piece made me laugh out loud.
Luscious
Rage, rage
I yell unceasing
To expose the hegemonic nature
Of all discourse
Truly rage, but luscious
Like an interior decorator from
England
No, the other one
with the leather pants
Rage I tell you
The repetion of the “s” sound and its syllabic economy give this entry too much charm to be the winner.
Hodge Podge
Big Trees
Big Bees
Bigsby’s
Busy Bees
Kids Knees
Kidneys
Lost Keys
Louder Please
Corn and Peas
No More Sleaze
Popcorn and Cheese
Fill with Ease
World Peace
The “You and Me’s ”
High Seas
High Seize
Hi-C
Don’t Sneeze
God Bless You.
This one is on the cusp, cusp, cusp of being at the top of the country charts but it doesn’t rhyme.
Cusp, cusp,
cusp of vacation;
sweet rim of a Tuesday night
lipp’d edge
of freedom
momentary as a a dandelion’s flower
black asphalt’s the answer:
tarway to heaven.
I want to thank all of you who entered but I just can’t. I’d rather have Christopher Walken read the collected works of James Joyce to me in the shower than have another contest like this.