Bad Poetry

I decided to enter the 2009 "Bad Poetry Contest"-- Thanks to my brother who sent me the link and his own entries "The Ballad of Ned the Hamster" and "Hero Hajid and the Golden Harp of Gimladi."
(NOTE: this is BAD poetry, not the good stuff!)

Grass is the Color of Love

Tuesday a day for shopping
sad pantry running bare
An anniversary to remember
such a lovely little affair

Jim and I are now together
for years and years at last
After waiting months to see him
his business overseas is mowing grass

But now retired and happy
a dinner I decide to make
And what would be more fitting?
Than a grass-seed chocolate cake!

Oh so delicious I know it
oozing layers of decadant brown
One plate won't be enough
seconds and thirds will be going down

So to a feed store I hurried
secret recipe stored away
As any good wife I protected
the recipe for grass-seed cake

I bought six pounds of the best
for Jim is the kind of guy
Who deserves all natural ingredients
and determined I was to try

I made a mound of decadence
put candles on my prize
Oh Jim would be so excited
it's amazing what a devoted wife tries

That night just after dinner
candlelight dinner settling well
Would he like my cake? I wondered
It was just the time to tell

I cut big lumps of chocolate
with grass seed such a sin
Watching my husband's face light up
As a big bite was shoved right in

Not two seconds later
Jim writhered on the floor
Amazed I watched him loving
the bite he must adore

But the medics told me other
reasons were to blame
For we quickly discovered
He was allergic when they came

Poor Jim is on a gurney
I fear now for his health
But I'll sit here and eat it
juicy cake all to myself!

- Agnes (My alter ego?)

Tuesday

You have become that place
Where the pen is poised
Waiting
To transcribe my thoughts

I open the page,
Begin that glimmer
That never sprouts to life
Floundering
Slipping

What things I can't quite say
To speak with uncertainty
Of where in this moment
I find myself
When the traces of flighted half-sentences
I could share,
Things I try to collect and sort
Anything else seems petty
But these are those still left hanging
Unspoken

So finally,
I say the nothing only you will understand
The silence of nothing
Wishing I could find you words