Poetry competition CLOSED 22nd February 2023 7:47pm
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Delightfully bonkers #8: February

poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

Weirdos R Us
Here is the monthly spot for all things strange, illogical, hilarious, bizarre, odd and nonsensical! Write what you like, but keep it clean and keep the length kind of reasonable please. I'm a busy woman!

Ideas: wordplay, dreams, non-sequiturs, life and the world as you see it, mystery, anthropomorphism, writing about writing, stream of consciousness, alternative dimensions...

Funniest weirdo wins.

poet Anonymous

P's & Q's

I'll gain my birth through pen'n ink  
with paper, perhaps, as midwife,  
this birth may raise a triffic stink  
I'll gain my birth through pen'n ink.  
I will! I will! I'm sure...I think...  
somewhere I've been wrote to life  
I'll gain my birth through pen'n ink  
with paper, perhaps, as midwife.  

I see dots above my small eyes  
feel crosses cross my tiny tees,  
will he write me with fine slim thighs?  
I see a dot above my eyes.  
" A buxom lass " he wrote, he sighs,  
and writes "...skirt pulled above the knees..."  
I see dots above my small eyes  
feel crosses cross my little tees.  
He never minds his P's & Q's  
just dots my eyes and strokes my tees  
and gazes on those words he drew  
he never minds his P's & Q's.  
This wish I wished for I might rue  
within these words he's writing me  
he never minds his P's & Q's  
just blots my eyes to hide his needs...

3 triolets
poet Anonymous

Stoned (222)

A joint and a couple of beers later  
He ended up in the bathroom stall  
The prospectus on the lavatory wall  
Showed pics of the beautiful  
Lavender fields of Tuscany /
Tuscany, also a grand place for wine
And  was the birthplace of Dante, Da Vinci, Galileo
And Michelangelo
Tuscany.  North of Rome but not far enough
To avoid the influence and the domination
Of the various popes through the Ages.
...But ha, Lavender,  
Super tones of violet and purple  
The color purple teased him more  
Brought to mind the exquisite details  
Of the amethyst quartz of Siberia.  
Hghtest quality.  
So headed for Siberia.  
Perhaps still not clear on the concept
But one does not have to travel
To such a rather desolate area in order
To hear the great music
Of the Trans-siberian orchestra.
You tube will do nicely.
But they will have nice stones
And no need to be stoned in order
To enjoy either.
Perhaps they would also have  
Lavender perfumes on display.
poet Anonymous

What Hurts The Most?

Women say childbirth is worse than getting kicked in the nuts
They ignore the pain that shoots from scrotum to guts
Delivering a child has an end goal, a beautiful reward
A nut shot has no meaning, no rhyme, no chord
However testicular destruction is the ultimate euphoria
So I must agree with the women, I really feel for ya
poet Anonymous

Reflective Laughter

The sun holds on meetings
on mentholated knowledge.


The ocean fades
with the oysters
of unbarren delight.
Oh, how the morning dwells
on luscious laughter!


Virous dew drops!
A wet cave recalls
worth the night's plater.
The sunset lashes are
for velvet ecstasy.


The night quivers
in steaming ecstasy.
Oh, how a wanderer shines
like barking volcanoes!
The sun shadows linger
with studious water.


The ocean's abandonment!
The morning emanates
a wet cave's agony.
The wind shimes
on my love's oysters,
Oh, the moon weeps delight
on fermented knowledge.


poet Anonymous

Plenty of Dead Fish in the Sea --

Plus Live Sharks

"The female deposits the egg, which the male fertilizes by
spraying sperm on it."
-- Day-care Lesson 1: "Fish Reproduction"


The caviar of mergirls still is she --
this little roe unhatched sans any dream
of marrying a merboy spawned at sea
where oceanfuls of salty troubles teem;
while being but an egg unfertilized,
she cannot miss her missing out on all,
each trip to Disney World unsupervised,
her meeting Walt in secret at each ball,
the wish to don a gown upscale of kale,
plus sport a fishtail thong without a top,
go fish for Moby Dick (or yet a whale),
a porpoise seek for every island hop;
an ovum minus sperm, she nothing is --
till fishy Jolly Roger takes a whiz.


a dedication of Respect
the Stench of rotting fish

a helios sonnet shakespearean satire menippean on
natalism --
an ideology all wet
all at sea

february, 2023 -- yet ova untold crying oceans of tears
in never having been
poet Anonymous

Sonnets for Sale

Sonnets for sale, villanelles, triolets...
there's no rubbish here it's quality stuff,
step right up folks for my brand-new spring sale.

Get 'em from me much cheaper than ebay
all tastes catered for but nothing too rough,
Sonnets for sale, villanelles, triolets...

Yes, ma'am, what's your requirements today?
"Oh, just something for sleep, sheep ain't enough!"
roll up roll up for my brand-new spring sale...

A commission, sir? There'll be more to pay,
(sir wants a sonnet to seduce some fluff?)
Sonnets for sale, villanelles, triolets...

Oy! Shoplifters get court Eff Orff! Ok?
(psst! one day only, words, stripped to the buff)
step right up folks get sold on my spring sale...

" Buy one get one free?" hmm, Christmas day say...
" Why these half price?" (shush them ones're duff)
  Sonnets for sale, villanelles, triolets,
  Walk right up folks for my brand-new spring sale!
poet Anonymous

Discoveries and biscuits

Or Biscuitporzellan
''Wird unglaziert von hohem Feldspat
Und nidrigem Quarzgehalt bezrichnet''
So, biscuits denoting a type of porcelain
We also have biscuits au beurre, a delight for the palate
But France will be different:  
They have cookies, ma chère,
Comme cookies aux pépites de chocolat
As for Germany, they have a great variety of biscuits
Which includes such as the Lebkuchen
(Very similar to gingerbread)
A must at Christmas
And the Springerle, chunky and chewy,
A biscuit which has a seven hundred year tradition
Or the Vanillakipferln
Also the Glüweinplätzchen,
As for the type of wine, it must be an
Acquired taste, and not for everybody.

Enjoy a few...with tea or coffee
poet Anonymous

If Elephants Could Fly

If elephants could fly, then the world wouldn’t be able to…
Close their eyes and pretend they haven’t seen something new
Up in the clear blue sky, the elephant certainly has a great view
There’s no way to deny what we see; soon one plus one won’t equal two.

If elephants could fly, then I should be able to reach my goals
Say a few goodbyes and liberate my weary soul
I want to spread the truth and abolish all lies; free us from this chocking control
Even if it’s just me, myself and I; at least I’m now whole.

If elephants could fly, then I’d know imagination can come true
Living in the magic of July, this string of love leads me to you
We’ll never know what’ll happen unless we try; when I looked into your eyes, I knew…
That this wasn’t the time to be shy, and I can’t look away from your shade of blue.

If elephants could fly, then I’d know that the impossible can happen
I have loved ones on whom I can rely, more so than I can even imagine
I feel like I am so high, as my blood burns with limitless passion
If elephants could fly, than I’m a majestic dragon!
poet Anonymous

Lowland Haggis Of Unbred Souls

Touch by the faith of the mythical Swami playing pattycake in a Hindu grotto. Weep not for me wee haggis-wed, failed death on haggis bed of a granite gramophone. Feeling my joints locking, playing rigor to my mortis. Singing," R-I-G-O-RM-O-R-T-I-S, that's me!" Gathered around the haggis near the roux of turnips in death's satire. Hitting the plateau running like a duck-billed platypus in adulterated loco-motion. How deep is the haggis in Yokohami in this unkempt dark mold? Giving up to the lowland haggis of unbred souls. Blessed is the shadow in the nave of silence and the pedigreed unchained haggis. Listening to Wee Willie Winkie on the pipes. Choked by the girdle of Psalms and the dark witch. With a splash or two of tipsie. Pulling at my haggis strings with sleep's plucked heart and liver. With a dash of redeye from my quiver.  
poet Anonymous

A ridiculous micro story

I will cunt-punt you to the fucken moon the next time you disrespect me about my smile; said the woman sitting in the waiting area, to the woman sitting behind a desk at *SMILES R US* Dental office in the magical district of Broom, located in the 11th Kingdom of None. I dare say, I will charge onto you with the force of a raging horde of Smurfs you ghoulish looking loser. And you can forget about dream walking to a deserted island where tales of a secret treasure chest lay in wait. Legend has it it’s been locked for thousands of years just begging to be opened. I will vanquish you with my deep reach of magic; with a flurry of words that will bind, blind and disfigure you, more so than you already are, leaving you completely helpless to mine cheese on the moon for the rest of your life😂You will need top notch convalescence by the time I’m finish with you. I will then drink and be merry with a fifth of rum to be finally rid of you!
The woman behind the desk slyly replies; You expect too much from me dear lady to think that I can restrain myself from you and your Jack-o’-lantern teeth!😂                                    
poet Anonymous

Footprints on my Mind

Thinking I'd write something humorous
I sat down at the computer
as fun thoughts ran through my brain
leaving muddy footprint all over the place
now instead of using pen and ink (or typing for that matter)
I'm spending all my time
scrubbing out my mind
and does anyone know
how to get stains out of brains?
my mother once washed my mouth with soap
to clean my mind her fervent hope
to no avail she miserably failed
but not for lack of trying
Sunday school was no less horrifying
that left the poor sisters crying
for a black sheep I am
refusing to be shorn
leaving my mother forlorn
but she loved me anyway
as she sent me out to play
cleaning up the dirt on the outside
but there was nothing she could do
about the muddy footprints in my mind
poet Anonymous

King of the Hostess Zombies!

One day, when crops are raised with Gatorade,
A strange new man will emerge from the waste
Promising the peeps, who were all dismayed,
That a future awaits with consistent taste!
Pressing gluons with new types of platens
He mashes glutens that bring back the dead
Where they see that immortality fattens
An apocalypse where zombies are fed!
And the feed they need are not live brains,
Since it turns out they were never much use,
But a new kind of cake praised in refrains
With flavors that numb simian abuse.
And live brains, like what the Chinese devour,
Leaves you hungry again in an hour!
poet Anonymous


today is the first
I'll start from here
here, where nothing appears

yesterday was the third
when obligation crashed
and disposition screamed

tomorrow will be the second
if inhibitions boom
and expectations rise

today I wasted a day
I drank and thought
kissed and fought
slept a lot
the sun was wrought
the color of grey

yesterday was when I died
my contention deserved glee
sadly, mistakes flourish in vanity
what did come, rhymed with misery
a folded smile you'd never see
preposterously snide

tomorrow I'll live
to once again fill
what failed and might still
shatter and spill
fucking obstinate will
with nothing more to give

that's why we recycle
minutes for days
seconds for hours
sorrows for life
poet Anonymous

Purple food

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