“PUT IT IN THE BAD POEM SECTION” by Alessandra Liverani

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PUT IT IN THE BAD POEM SECTION

I’ve been told to write a really bad poem
It goes against the grain but sometimes you gotta show ‘em
That you can write the baddest, the baddest of bad
In the bad poem section, you’ve got something to addNow normally my poems perfectly rhyme and flow
They dance and they sing, a line would never end in apropos
They’re deep, so very deep that their bottom has never been found
In the deep and meaningful section is where they’re usually crowned

But just for a laugh, just for something different to do
I thought I’d write a poem which would get the kind of review
That you wouldn’t wipe your bum with, for fear of being contaminated
Write one for which the reviewers had only vitriolic hatred

So this is my offering to put in the bad poem section
I hope it gets added to many bad poem collections
But I’d like it to be known, I make this statement bold
That all my other poems are sheer solid gold!

Our Budgies

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Our Budgies

Our pretty budgies love to chatter
Oh how they love a little natter
It’s no good asking for some peace
They keep on talking, never cease

Maybe they’re saying their name in Latin
Melopsittacus undulates, they’re chanting
Or possibly how hot’s the weather
And wonderfully cooling, to fluff their feathers

They may be talking of the crow outside
And laughing at his big backside
Or simply rejoicing at being alive
To wake up cheery at half past five.

(Sydney, Australia – 2005)

Alessandra Liverani

IN THE GARDEN

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Good news. The domain is up and running with behind the scenes help from Di and Teena. Thank you. I was talking to a guy on the domain help line in America yesterday and it was -6 degrees there and 40 degrees (approx 110) here in Mt Gambier, South Australia. What a contrast.

Jeanie

Today’s poem:

IN THE GARDEN

The air was alpine fresh and the lake surface glistening
Bird song trilled for those who were listening
What a great afternoon, thought Glenn feeling chipper
A perfect time to start up his new whipper snipper

It purred smoothly in his experienced hands
Trimmed edges effortlessly at the most gentle command
But while promenading proudly around his neat lawn
Glenn spied a dog poo and he wanted it gone

It looked dry as dust so he thought he’d attack
With his fearless whipper snipper, just give it a smack
And it would harmlessly splinter and shatter
But it was still moist so it splished and splattered

It splattered with power, it splattered with grace
It splattered all over Glenn’s spluttering face
Flew up his nostrils, did not want to be wasted
Left him a flavour the worst he’d ever tasted

It splattered his T-shirt, it splattered his jeans
It was very much a poo splishing, splattering scene
Poor Glenn hastily switched off the power
And raced indoors for an emergency shower

Alessandra Liverani