Best Uglier Poems
I bought a box of truth from a peddler down the street,
even though he told me its veracity might sting.
I handed him a stack of bills and asked for a receipt.
The box was wrapped in violet silk and tied with silver string.
I gripped the lid with shaking hands and paused with bated breath,
even though he told me its veracity might sting.
The truth inside the box was even uglier than death.
It slapped me with repugnance and assaulted with its stench.
I gripped the lid with shaking hands and paused with bated breath.
I closed the box in panicked shock and struggled not to blench.
Receipt in hand, I hurried to return the wretched truth.
It slapped me with repugnance and assaulted with its stench.
I found that lousy peddler selling boxes from his booth.
He studied me with sympathy and eyed my violet crate.
Receipt in hand, I hurried to return the wretched truth.
With fingers clenched in fury and a heart awash with hate,
I bought a box of lies from that peddler down the street.
He studied me with sympathy and eyed my yellow crate.
I handed him a stack of bills and asked for no receipt.
I'm so doggone ugly,
I look like a faded roach;
If I were a pile of roadkill,
The buzzards wouldn't approach!
Oh sweet mirror on the wall,
Why stab me in the back?
You tell me that I'm beautiful,
Then fall to the floor and crack!
I went to a local photographer,
Here's something you won't believe,
He took one look at this ugly mug,
And paid me just to leave!
I can't go to the chicken coop,
To gather a single egg;
Those hens won't let me enter,
Unless I grovel and beg!
I never committed a crime,
Though my picture's on the wall;
Ugliness is a criminal act,
It's certainly against the law!
A cop pulled me over,
I asked what I did wrong;
He took one look at this sourpuss,
And said..."Nuthin', please go home!"
When I walk by flower beds,
The petals begin to wilt;
Every time I play pinball,
The game automatically tilts!
I married an ugly woman,
Someone uglier than me;
We bought ourselves an ugly dog,
Now we're as happy as can be!
She's on the Verge
Joe cool
She talks to her hand
like seriously duh
the joke im not telling
we used to be witches writing poetry in coffee shops
smoking pot in serene gardens
and if it wasn't for Ginger my dog
that ran away to make love to Winchester
when she was in heat
we never would have met when we were eight
and still friends
but she tells me its because of me she's crazy
She wants me to remove pro creations that are stalking her
something tells me she's visited the funny farm too many times
I've been there
I've seen it
I know
But me and Joe
we are two of a kind
But I could be bluffing
maybe we're part of a royal flush
I'm space ace from mars
and she's a voodoo queen
to complete the circle of a long lost God in Girlfriend
Only the watchtowers know what that truly means
How did i get soo lucky her mother asked
but I'm not lucky at all
count your blessings and learn to read between the lines
because this mystic in your life
from your tree of fruits and loins did she fall
I'm a gullible god
and so are you
the tower of Babel has fallen
and she doesn't know what to do
so when she speaks the tongue of spirituality or which
and all you hear is psycho babble
it doesn't sound like
sneesh cheep bleep flap jip hap frew
she makes sense to me with words shes obsessing
i just wish you would take it on yourselves to read up on it
to understand her to communicate
instead of sending her to the hospital
Those pills make her
talk to her hand
and those lies are mostly true
fact is stranger than fiction
and together your family can pull through
even those doctors
are a little bit mad at that tea party
and shes never thrown me away after what I've been through
i love her to pieces
so should you
shes always been there for me
and when we lose touch she searches high and low for me
when you lose touch
there are more than one thing u can do
shes had exorcisms
and a low self esteem
date rape by succesfull well respected men
and everyone said it was blasphemy
it's not easy but it could be worse
believe you me
she's beautiful on the inside
and soo many soo called sane people
are beautiful outside
but uglier than sin if you ask me
Example for my contest which is what I call a "Charlie-Quadku" (lol)
outside the shell
the ugly duck
without true heart...
gets uglier
the ugliest
of the ugly
with a true heart...
becomes the swan
head heavy
in hands
squeezing pounding temples
trapped in a trance
seated in this place
of emptiness and despair
the place that has welcomed
all of my fears and fractures
my heart pounds erratically
my eyes swollen and shot
a hypnotic gaze
into the somber gray
stone tile floor
that I’m sure
is hiding the demons
I have chosen to ignore
the ventilation fan
is loud and deafening
please stop, please stop
for God’s sake!
the churning acid
arouses anxiety in my angry pit
my blurry awakening shameful face
is exposed and shunned
a fading illusion
of my demand
that I’ve had enough
I’m finally done
what does this vicious cycle
have in store
just like yesterdays
just like tomorrows
“bite the hair”
the temptation to escape
always near
addiction is a seductive liar
that manipulates and deceives
not willing to seek restraint
until every sense of self-worth
is destroyed and torched in fire
my mind twists painfully
in a chaotic frenzy
memories that won’t decompose
a persistent clamor
reliving the bowels
of a drained and disappointed past
the blews persist,
unyielding in their grip
a lifetime,
of dark and ugly people
of dark and ugly decisions
mind drifts,
to even darker uglier thoughts
The happily ever after...
He searched the kingdom for a fortnight 'til all saddle sore and weary,
With his eyes bloodshot and bleary,
The prince arrived at the last door.
He found two sisters, far too ugly, and an even uglier mother,
And asked himself why even bother,
This whole darn quest's become a bore.
Then from the kitchen came the vision he had searched so far and wide for.
He asked stepmother what she'd lied for
To say the three of them were all.
A flash, a crash, there was the gown, and then he saw her bare right flipper,
And on the left, a crystal slipper…
The girl he'd danced with at the ball.
The stepmother feigned regret that they had sadly so misjudged her,
T'was for her good that they'd begrudged her,
But to a prince one shouldn't lie.
On her wedding day the trio met the fate they should have dreaded,
They were arrested and beheaded,
And Cindy never blinked an eye.
The wedding feast and celebration were the grandest in the nation,
The king and queen felt jubilation,
Their son was "normal", after all.
They could retire and the crown would be passed down to their descendants,
Their kid, grandkids, and co-dependents,
They were so glad they'd had that ball.
But on their wedding night the prince confirmed his sexual confusion,
And forced them both to the conclusion,
Theirs was no fairy tale romance.
But still they made the marriage work, although they had no little nippers,
Sometimes he wore her gown and slippers,
And Cinderella wore the pants.
So, in conclusion, Cinderella got her semi-happy ending,
In spite of all the rules I'm bending
To tell her tale and make it new.
It wasn't meant to be so grand,
But what my muse commands, I do,
And now in bidding fond adieu,
My hat is off to those of you
Who stuck it out and read it through.
The End
Reality check... I’ve noticed the
Elastic waistband has
Started to get even tighter on my wife's pants ....
Only I daren't suggest she gives up candy -
Lets just say if she doesn't get her daily ‘ fix’ she turns
Uglier than the incredible hulk!
Take it from me when she gets PMT
It’s like walking on eggshells, so yet again my
Only option is to say
Nothing...
So my resolution is to survive her mood swings for another year!
Resolutions contest Judged 02/16/20
FICTION POEM FOR CONTEST
02/06/20
Think globally, act locally,
The desert shall rejoice
And blossom as rose,
Man has been endowed with reason
With the power to create
So that he can add to what he's been given.
But up to now he has only been a destroyer,
Rather than being a creator
Forests keep disappearing
Population keep increasing.
Rivers dry up
Landslides occurring from the top
Glaciers are melting
Water is vanishing,
But shame on humans
They aren't improving.
Wildlife's become extinct
The climate's ruined
Everyday the land is growing poorer
And the crops are growing uglier,
Make it a green peace
Thats the point
But what to do,
We are just lost in a woo.
The poor tread lightest upon the earth
The higher our income
The geater the outcome,
The more resources we control
The more havoc we wroke.
What would the world be
Once bereft
Of wet and wildness,
Let them be left,
O'let them be left.
Long live the weeds and the wilderness,
Kindly be possessive towards the environment
After all the destructions,
When we will be left sans of (sans- Pronounced sone meaning without)
Every natural beauty
All that remains for us
Will be of no utility
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot
With a pink hotel.
A boutique, and a swinging hot spot,
What have we done to the earth?
What have we done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and did her.
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences and dragged her down
I think that i shall never see,
A billboard lovely as a tree
Perhaps, unless the billboards fall,
I'll never see a tree at all
Its a sincere request in the end from my side,
Save the Environment, save our Mother Earth!
My Mother In Law
Saw a view appearing to be panoramic,
Of me while I had laid in my hammock;
For ugliness there was no known cure;
Much more then anyone could endure.
Instead of being on welfare or relief,
Living beyond budget was our belief;
Wife had wanted to knock me flat;
She did see me sat on her furry cat.
She was really someone to talk about;
Did describe her as being a knockout,
Who would often wear us to a frazzle,
When she performed her razzle dazzle.
So why did she want to look like me?
Horribly ugly like no one wants to be;
Should see her exhibit wild will power;
I again had forgot to wash out shower.
Then terrible thought to me did occur,
Compared to me no one can be uglier,
After I did decide this was last straw;
She ended up being my mother in law.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Pathetic Poet
A Klingon Love Poem
(In Klingon and English)
tlhIngan bang bom tlhab
(pa' tlhIngan 'ej English Hol)
tugh mate beast qem jIH
flesh, cobalt jIb tear rip
metallic jeD rip qIj vo' DapIHchugh
ghaH ghob'e' nasty, Hegh mInDu' qul
Hurgh qab leathery
uglier Dunmo' tay embrace
dungeons Hurgh foreplay yInISQo' maHvaD
DeSDu' muSHa'ghach objects hurling jej
ravDaq pound, lojmIt pach maH
bey HoS jachpu'DI' DeSDu' morg maS
roar rur heavenly ghe''or Qo'noS vergh
jaQ neH rIQ qet bangwI'
Dub inflicted Hoch latlhpu'
rol taj jej taj
'ej HIv Ho' sharper
'Iw 'uQ'a' Hoch latlhpu' maH
ghob wej qa''a''e' pemHov lust
A Klingon Love Poem
(In Klingon and English)
Bring me a female mating beast
To pound her flesh, to tear her cobalt hair
Rip the thick metallic black from the head
She must be nasty, with fire in the eyes for death
A dark leathery face
The uglier the better for the ritual embrace
Let us foreplay in dungeons dark
Hurling sharp objects at love
We will scorch the floors, claw the doors
Howl out loud at the moons of Morg
Roar like heavenly hell on Kronos shores
My love runs deep in the wounds
Inflicted on each others backs
With razor sharp knives
And sharper teeth attacks
We will feast on each others blood
Do battle till the sun comes up with lust
The lure of untainted flower,
Its sweet perfume encased in a whorl.
Alas! That which I await is scarce.
This memory will be banished tomorrow.
Tomorrow ,
I must satisfy her.
My labour waits for her belly:
The weary days
The sun
The rains of my struggles
Bear fruit tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
She said, “I will come tomorrow”
Her many delays must end tomorrow
‘cos her quest for vanities are fully spent.
Our wedding shall be tomorrow.
Tomorrow,
Her lust shall be feted
Her feathers of courtship plucked!
The downs, I know, shall be not be rubied
But tomorrow we shall deceitfully walk to the altar.
Tomorrow.
I bid you, wait till tomorrow.
She goes home now to break her bond
With him that was in her dreams only yesterday.
I, shall wait till tomorrow
To make her drink from her fountain of lust.
Her secret desire of a ride to a far country
On her lover’s back, a wish not penny can grant.
Tomorrow.
I must nurture the wounds and scars of another
And regret I never made the first cut.
Yet, she must do it again as before.
But we shall start tomorrow.
Tomorrow,
She shall dance like a maiden untouched;
All her lovers in the pew,
Mocking my folly with unspoken memories of their voyages
And I, a victim of blemished womanhood,
Ready to fool the world in “unholy matrimony.”
Tomorrow,
When she parades foolishness for fashion
Then, call her not my wife.
When she fights on the street in rage and fury
Oh, call her not my wife.
When she slips into darkness to drink from the cup of a rival
Please, call her not my wife.
When the stench of her reputation chokes the neighborhood
Then, remember her not as my wife.
When she regales her mates with tall tales to my hurt
Please, call her not my wife,
When she wraps herself in fineries yet uglier than a mummy
Please, call her not my wife,
When godliness is exited and the fear of God abolished
Please, call her not my wife
Think no shame on me
Then, when she becomes a Matron over innocent children.
But, I must marry
Tomorrow
Be it for a day before I die.
I hated myself for
disgracing myself more than I should,
I looked upon everything under the sun with jaundiced eyes,
and even tried to ignore long established ethical standards
that of the foundation for existence of human society—it doesn’t matter if it’s of a certain nation or society; religious group; civilization, tribal traditions or history.
I wonder where this negative mindset came from,
and why I am so biased of everything surrounding me
and walk dragging baggage of those contorted ideas on the ground.
In fact, a woman who looks more villainous and uglier than Medusa
wrapped in gaudy attire trimmed with vulgar accessories dances under sparkling light shaking her odious body like mad and she looks so pathetic that tears stand in my eyes. A man who looks more grotesque and frightening than the gargoyles of Notre Dame walks with great strides under the bright sun throwing out his breast but I cannot conceive the rationale for the pride of that ugly man,
my unconscious mind becomes accustomed to disallow
everything I see anywhere at all.
I hate myself because I should be unconcerned with the corrupt world matters and accept the world as it is for life is as such, yet, whatever reason that may be, I couldn’t accept the world as it is.
Although I know the word compromise very well,
I distort the meaning of it and interprete as submission
and regard assent as a synonym of subordination
I wonder why my thought became twisted thus far
and that is why I feel miserable, and think myself not, though I am.
I felt my pulse race
As she walked by
Stopping to give a little smile
Toward my significant other,
The man I love more than a brother.
She is tall, sweet and pretty,
A little dimple in her chin.
She makes me feel older and uglier,
As if my own looks are nasty, repulsive,
Disgusting and hostile to the natural eye.
I stare at her as if she were famous,
Some actress with all the right moves.
A model, maybe, Victoria’s Secret,
Or, perhaps, a Playboy centerfold.
Sexy, sensual and so very satisfying.
I wish I were so beautiful and erotic,
Made for the movies or magazine covers,
Someone who seems to linger in the mind,
Causing wives to shudder and males to utter
Words of suggestive humor or hunger.
When my husband gazes toward her
My heart thumps with frustration.
Then, without a second glance, he looks at me…
Gives me a smile of real elation and says,
“You’re beautiful… my sweet angel”.
The Green-Eyed Monster Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Verlena S. Walker
The Nefarios Scream
Camping in isolated lands of parks and creeks
Untold experiences of adventurous beauty
Nefarious acts eclipse joys of freedom
Blowing up cars to bar any escape
Tents knifed through in the darkness of the night
Wakening frightened sleepy eyed tourists
Throats slit of those who rebel and abuse
Serial killer chases the gutsy that escaped
Muffle the defiant eye to jab out screams
Clanging chains, barrelled guns, hammers et al
Adorn his barricaded blood stained dungeons
Adventures in foreign land turn uglier than nightmares
Destinations of destined stumbled into zones horrific
Families and lovers pine with unrequited inquiries
Investigators baffled over the ambiguous maniac
Who finger by finger tortured the life out of tourists
Exulting over his power of creating a world of zombies
A bomb he carried to blow up the next tourist van
Helpless travellers plea's rippled his blood
Slow and steady steps he came closer to van
An unseen rattler uncoiled rattling his next step
Hissing his breath away in the loudest scream
Balveen Cheema
September 20, 2015
Contest: The Dark and Twisted
Sponsor: Nathan D
I'm
Again, its time to
Be like a
Character who
Does care that
Each letter must
Find itself joining another to
Go on this
Hunt
In search of
Just the right words to
Kindle an alphabet
Lyrical run, but, instead
Marches more
Nearly into an
Oblivious obnoxious
Pursuit to pick up
Quickly the
Rhyme
So sublime (or stomach
Turning) to grow
Uglier than
Vericose veins or
Wilder than an
Xotic ... (oops, does it need the "e"?)
Yippety ...
Zippety-doo-daw day !
reworked for Syed Amaan Ahmad's contest "ABC Format"
February 2010