Grea Alexander's Blog - Posts Tagged "wergle-flomp"
Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest
I haven't written poetry in FOREVER. I mean for DECADES.
Still, when I saw the subject "$1,000 for a humor poem" in my inbox a little over a week ago, I decided to check it out.
Though I convinced myself that this no fee opportunity for financial gain seemed worth a gander, I procrastinated and procrastinated - distinctly disenchanted with the prospect of writing a poem.
My disenchantment was so entrenched in fact that I literally, about an hour ago, finally forced myself to the task. Did I mention that this contest ends in an hour or so (dependent upon time zone)?
Luckily, I produced something more than passable with about 10 minutes to spare, hit the submit button amid curses at my computer to go faster and with a respectable 3 minute margin to boot.
What did I submit you ask? A play on my Open Seasons Blog piece inspired by a stop 90 minutes before at Target and a stroll through their Easter clearance shelves.
Sure they might ball up my humor poem and wipe their arses with my effort (which would be quite a feat mind you considering that I entered electronically), but I must say it wasn't as terrible and painful of an experience as I dared imagine it to be. And as usual, I surprised even myself. (Thanks to GOD for making me so bloody awesome!)
So, without further ado:
Seasons Greed-ings
Seasons Greed-ings,
Open seasons,
Holidays slither closer, closer together.
What do I do?
Retail hullabaloo,
Holidays mushed indelibly, forever.
Happy New Tines!
Happy St. Easter!
My hangover has a basket of hearts.
Barbecue and beer,
And fireworks appear,
When Memorial of July Day festivity starts.
And there's no forgetting,
HallowThankMas Giving,
Masks, tinsel, turkeys strewn across the floor.
With the wink of an eye,
They all pass us by,
Pockets emptier - faster, faster, more.
Each holiday's kitsch,
Now lives in a ditch,
Like the victims of some horrid crash.
My senses overwhelmed,
This retail hell helmed,
To steer me away from my cash.
A hoarder's dream!
Peeps, chocolate, ice cream,
Neither my brain nor wallet comprehend.
How this came to be,
This holi-mockery,
By GOD oh when will it end!
Still, when I saw the subject "$1,000 for a humor poem" in my inbox a little over a week ago, I decided to check it out.
Though I convinced myself that this no fee opportunity for financial gain seemed worth a gander, I procrastinated and procrastinated - distinctly disenchanted with the prospect of writing a poem.
My disenchantment was so entrenched in fact that I literally, about an hour ago, finally forced myself to the task. Did I mention that this contest ends in an hour or so (dependent upon time zone)?
Luckily, I produced something more than passable with about 10 minutes to spare, hit the submit button amid curses at my computer to go faster and with a respectable 3 minute margin to boot.
What did I submit you ask? A play on my Open Seasons Blog piece inspired by a stop 90 minutes before at Target and a stroll through their Easter clearance shelves.
Sure they might ball up my humor poem and wipe their arses with my effort (which would be quite a feat mind you considering that I entered electronically), but I must say it wasn't as terrible and painful of an experience as I dared imagine it to be. And as usual, I surprised even myself. (Thanks to GOD for making me so bloody awesome!)
So, without further ado:
Seasons Greed-ings
Seasons Greed-ings,
Open seasons,
Holidays slither closer, closer together.
What do I do?
Retail hullabaloo,
Holidays mushed indelibly, forever.
Happy New Tines!
Happy St. Easter!
My hangover has a basket of hearts.
Barbecue and beer,
And fireworks appear,
When Memorial of July Day festivity starts.
And there's no forgetting,
HallowThankMas Giving,
Masks, tinsel, turkeys strewn across the floor.
With the wink of an eye,
They all pass us by,
Pockets emptier - faster, faster, more.
Each holiday's kitsch,
Now lives in a ditch,
Like the victims of some horrid crash.
My senses overwhelmed,
This retail hell helmed,
To steer me away from my cash.
A hoarder's dream!
Peeps, chocolate, ice cream,
Neither my brain nor wallet comprehend.
How this came to be,
This holi-mockery,
By GOD oh when will it end!
