It seemed like such a good idea at the time.
The place was fine
for a blanket to curl up on,
just needed a helping paw or two
to really get it purring.
We waited until Kevin was gone
and Rowdy got to work on the bathroom,
which was pointless, really,
so he filled the toilet with gravel,
shredded the reading basket magazines
into something we could use.
Hush got the bedroom,
a simple matter
of spreading out the cat hair
and rumpling the sheets.
Turned out there was not enough yarn
and so Kevin’s ripped up shirts
would have to do.
Tye had the toughest time in the living room
resurfacing the walls for scratching posts,
getting the sides of the sofa just right
and laying out dead mice and lizards
for party guests.
We’re no Trading Spaces
and nothing worth doing is easy
but really,
there was no need for the look on his face.
Maybe next time,
more fuschia.
by Tod
--
My custom words: Rowdy, Hush and Tye. The names of Kevin's cats.
So hopefully this will get some more writers participating next year. I had a surprising number of people turn me down, saying that they just didn't do well under pressure, didn't want their substandard poems out there in the public forum, yada yada blah.
Oh really? You mean like this? Go ahead. Laugh, you fuckers. I am the Elephant Man of poetry and I will not hide my ugliness. Just wait until I post the aluminum poem.
2 comments:
Kevin didn't happen to be a bald guy with a red goatee did he? If so I'm sure he loved this.
Oh, and right on to the poets who're too good to write bad poetry: most people will be appreciative of what you give them no matter what (and if not that's why you always take your payment in beer. Drink it fast enough and they can't demand it back).
I'm not too sure - I think his wife or girlfriend actually commissioned this for him.
I think next year, I'll be taking $ on delivery only. Juuust in case. Unless they are paying in beer, because that's like extra quality assurance.
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