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  • mistermuse 9:40 am on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: bad poetry, Hickory dickory dock, , , , , ,   

    THE ART OF BAD POETRY 

    Oscar Wilde quote: “All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.” Maybe so, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.

    A few days ago, in pondering the possibility of posting a post of putrid poetry for BAD POETRY DAY (August 18th), I took the precaution of reviewing a decade (my blog began in 2009) of August posts to make sure I hadn’t previously perpetrated poetic perfidy on unsuspecting readers on this day. Unluckily for you , I found that I’ve never posted a post on Aug. 18, so we’re good to go….make that, I’m good to go. Or bad to go. You have to stay, because if you don’t, you’ll break my poor art — and that wouldn’t be polite.

    Perhaps you think that my calling bad poetry an art
    doesn’t pass the smell test, like calling passing gas a fart.

    Not to put you on the spot, but was that a bad-ass poem, or what?
    Granted, it has a perfect rhyme, but is that such a crime?
    As bad poetry, I still say it’s sublime….speaking of which, I’ll have you know there are actually high-class contests to determine how low a bad poem can get, such as:

    With that behind us, it’s time we get back to sum-more of my cool august poetry:

    CLOCKING OUT

    Hickory, dickory, dock,
    The doc ran up the rock.
    The rock was more slippery
    Than doc’s hickory dickory,
    So down he fell, which cleaned his clock.

    HAIR APPARENT

    A Whig party wig
    Is my saving grace —
    It diverts your gaze
    Away from my face.

    I WILL ONLY STOOP SO LOW

    I don’t do windows,
    I don’t do lawns —
    But when I doo-doo,
    I do do johns.

    And with that, I bid you a fond adieu-doo.

     

     
    • Carmen 10:20 am on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      • she chuckles *

      Of course you know I’ll have to offer my favourite poem (by Sheree Fitch, of Nova Scotia)

      TOES IN MY NOSE

      I stuck my toes in my nose and couldn’t get them out
      It looked a little strange and people began to shout
      “Why would you ever?”
      “My goodness I never!”
      They got in a terrible snit.

      “It’s simple” I said, as they put me to bed –
      “I just wanted to see if they FIT!”

      Liked by 4 people

      • mistermuse 10:45 am on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply

        Thank you for that beautiful bad poem, Carmen. It calls to mind this golden oldie:

        You’re a poet
        though you don’t know it
        but your feet show it —
        they’re Longfellows.

        HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

        Liked by 2 people

    • equipsblog 11:29 am on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      Your last poem is so bad it’s actually good.

      Liked by 1 person

    • mistermuse 11:46 am on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      To quote the late author and critic D.B. Wyndham Lewis, “There is bad Bad Verse and good Bad Verse.” Hopefully he would have agreed with you that my last poem fits the latter category.

      Like

    • Rivergirl 1:22 pm on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      When it comes to bad… you’re very good.

      Liked by 1 person

    • D. Wallace Peach 1:48 pm on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      Chelsea Owens here on WP runs a weekly terrible poetry contest that is a total hoot. Much in line with the rhymes you posted. Lol. If you ever need a laugh in these dark days of Trump, there are plenty of bad poets willing to share their terribleness. 😀 Thanks for the clip about intolerable moo too.

      Liked by 1 person

    • calmkate 7:20 pm on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      Only you could pull off bad poetry with such aplomb!

      Liked by 1 person

    • obbverse 7:21 pm on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      Always a pleasure to read bad poetry- or so my proof reader tells me. Seriously, it is a pleasure to read. No doubt you’re aware of William McGonagle, the high/low mark of all bad poets He tried so hard to write well, in his so earnest po-faced way. That makes it all the more hilarious.

      Liked by 1 person

      • mistermuse 9:12 pm on August 18, 2019 Permalink | Reply

        Thanks. McGonagall had this in common with all bad poets: he was clueless that his poetry was bad. Still, I don’t mean that uncharitably — bad poets ‘gotta live too,’ and for all I know, maybe it keeps many of them out of trouble (although we all know a certain very bad tweeter who makes a lot of trouble for others).

        Like

    • America On Coffee 2:36 am on August 22, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      I kind of like bad poetry. Composition charisma is what it has. 💕

      Liked by 1 person

    • magickmermaid 12:04 pm on August 22, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      Hooray for bad poetry! Groaning 😀

      Liked by 1 person

    • barkinginthedark 4:17 am on August 26, 2019 Permalink | Reply

      oy!
      oh boy!
      hoy hoy floy floy
      i may just be the hoi polloi
      but i really truly did enjoy.

      continue…

      Liked by 1 person

  • mistermuse 12:00 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: bad poetry, , Edgar Guest, , , , ONE TOUCH OF VENUS, , , ,   

    BE MY GUEST 

    I’d rather be a great bad poet than a bad good poet. –Ogden Nash

    • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    Today is the birthday, not of Ogden Nash, but of Edgar Guest (Aug. 20, 1881). And who, you might ask, was Mr. Guest, and why is he my special Guest for this post? (Sorry about that, but to paraphrase Will Rogers, I never met a pun I didn’t like.) Though he is all but forgotten today, in his day Guest was a poet so popular that he was known as the People’s Poet. Unfortunately for him, this lofty regard was not shared by more discriminating appraisers such as Dorothy Parker, who is reported to have declared:

    I’d rather flunk my Wassermann test*
    than read a poem by Edgar Guest.”

    *a test for syphilis

    Were his poems really that bad? Here are a few examples; you be the judge:

    Home ain’t a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
    Afore it’s home there’s got t’ be a heap o’ living in it.
    –from his most famous poem, titled “Home”

    When you’re up against a trouble,
    Meet it squarely, face to face,
    Lift your chin, and set your shoulders,
    Plant your feet and take a brace.
    –from “See It Through”

    Now, I’m not saying I’d rather flunk a syphilis test than read a poem by Edgar Guest, but August 18 was/is BAD POETRY DAY, and one wonders why that date was chosen rather than August 20, which would have coincided perfectly with the birth date of the critics’ poetaster child for BAD POETRY DAY. Of course, it’s possible there are worse poets than Guest, so perhaps neglected candidates for the honor would have raised a stink (as opposed to raising a stinker, like the parents of a certain GOP candidate for President).

    But I digress (the devil made me do it). Back on message, your humble host is more than capable of vying for the honor; as proof, he submits the following for your disapproval:

    RAINED ALL NIGHT THE DAY I LEFT

    It was a dark and stormy night
    On the day I left to stay.
    The sun was shining brightly
    On yon shadows afar away.

    I be starting on a journey
    Just as soon as I know where.
    I’ve packed a lot of nothing
    To unpack when I get there.

    They say the spirit’s willing,
    But the flesh is weak as sin;
    The former is my future —
    The latter is where I’ve been.

    So come, sweet spirit, raise me
    From the heap o’ living dead.
    I surrender — set me free from
    My behind to look ahead.

    And should I meet up with trouble,
    I’ll meet it squarely and not duck;
    I’ll shoulder my chin, a face lift face,
    And just show all-around pluck.

    And if that doesn’t take me
    Beyond that unbending bend,
    I’ll just declare this is where
    Both journey and poem end.

    • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    Back to Mr. Nash. I opened this opus with his “great bad poet/bad good poet” quote. There was a method to my badness: he was America’s preeminent writer of humorous light verse from 1931 until his death in 1971, a favorite of mine, and, apropos to this post’s focus on an August 18-20 time frame, he was born Aug. 19 (1902). So Happy Birthday, Ogden Nash — a wit as a light versifier and, I might add, no twit as a lyricist; witness his words to this tune composed by Kurt Weill, as sung by Eileen Wilson (lip synced by Ava Gardner) and Dick Haymes in the 1948 Hollywooden film version of the play ONE TOUCH OF VENUS:

     

     

     
    • renxkyoko 12:11 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      I like it.

      I like poems that are direct and to the point, thus , easy to understand and appreciate.

      Liked by 1 person

    • painkills2 12:20 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      Poetry is in the eye of the beholder. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

    • Michaeline Montezinos 12:31 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      I also like your poem. It reminds me of the one I wrote as Artemus Bumpkin on SWI.

      Liked by 1 person

    • scifihammy 2:41 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      I think people can be snobs about poetry like they can about art. If you like something, does it matter if the critics think it is good or not?
      I like your poem, and you’re amusing as always. 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

      • mistermuse 8:07 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

        Many thanks (to all four of you) for your comments. My take on the excellent points about the kinds of poetry you (or anyone, for that matter) like and poetry being “in the eye of the beholder,” is that this is TRUE OF MANY THINGS, but is internalized by too few people. Being unable to accept and appreciate that we all see things from our own vantage point (based on our upbringing, culture, religion, maturity, etc.) is, in my opinion, the primary reason why this is such a violent, “my way or the highway” world. Antagonism is no substitute for empathy and gets us nowhere but where we are. We need to get to a better place.

        Liked by 2 people

    • linnetmoss 7:45 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      “Set me free from my behind”? I am going to be laughing all day over this one. I also like “Hollywooden.” But Dick Haymes actually had a good voice.

      Liked by 1 person

    • mistermuse 8:21 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      It may be hard to believe now, but in the 1940s, Dick Haymes was Frank Sinatra’s biggest rival as the bobbysoxers’ favorite crooner. In my opinion, Haymes had a better voice than Sinatra at that time, although of course Frank went on to reach the heights, while Haymes slid into near-oblivion. His story is a sad one in many ways, and makes for interesting reading for anyone interested.

      Like

    • Cynthia Jobin 9:12 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      Sounds like that particular dark and stormy night—of all dark and stormy nights—was a most auspicious one, and whether you have a bandage or a banjo on your knee in future, things are looking good for your liberation from your behind. And since your poem is a delight, neitherr I nor Susannah will cry for you.

      Liked by 1 person

    • mistermuse 10:54 am on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      I’ve always liked Stephen Foster’s songs such as OH! SUSANNA (from which I borrowed the title of my poem), CAMPTOWN RACES, BEAUTIFUL DREAMER and JEANIE WITH THE LIGHT BROWN HAIR. For those who aren’t familiar with OH! SUSANNA, it goes like this:

      Liked by 1 person

    • D. Wallace Peach 12:05 pm on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      I think your poem is too clever to qualify as bad. 🙂 Loved it!

      Liked by 2 people

    • mistermuse 12:13 pm on August 20, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      Thank you (I only hope Stephen Foster isn’t turning over in his grave)!

      Liked by 2 people

    • Don Frankel 6:43 pm on August 21, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      I like the way Guest sets his chin up. It would make it real easy to land a left hook or a right cross or both. He may not be the worst poet but he’s got to be pretty close.

      Is Dick Haymes trying to sound like Sinatra or is that his natural voice? I know from comments Sinatra made that he couldn’t stand the guy.

      Like

    • mistermuse 9:00 pm on August 21, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      Don, that Haymes’ natural voice, but I think he shows it to better effect in the DON’T THROW COLD WATER ON THE FLAME OF LOVE clip in my previous post (SAY WHAT AGAIN?).
      Also, both his voice and his acting ability are better displayed in the 1945 version of the film STATE FAIR, with great Rodgers and Hammerstein songs like IT MIGHT AS WELL BE SPRING and IT’S A GRAND NIGHT FOR SINGING.

      Like

    • BroadBlogs 9:15 pm on August 22, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      Happy birthday to Ogden Nash! I say great bad poets have a lot of soul.

      Liked by 1 person

    • mistermuse 9:47 pm on August 22, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      His body of work isn’t bad either! 🙂

      Like

    • arekhill1 12:26 am on August 23, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      Both my parents would quote Guest when Mom made one of her cherry pies. “As I wend my way to Heaven, I’ll be full of cherry pie,” they would laugh between forkfuls. Didn’t make me like them any better, but I didn’t let it destroy my taste for cherry pie.

      Like

    • mistermuse 8:34 am on August 23, 2016 Permalink | Reply

      Neither of my parents had any interest in poetry, so I wasn’t subjected to similar experiences at an early age. If there’s a creative writing gene in my family background, it must come from my mother’s Irish ancestors.

      Like

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