I saw some horrifyingly awful analogies on some thread or other somewhere online and I was inspired to start writing really bad poetry because of them. I hope you are as amused by them as I am sure I will be in the writing.
Here is the first of what, I’m sure, will be many really, really bad poems.
Her Eyes
She looked at me
Wantonly
And her eyes twinkled
With droplets of dew
Like the spectacular mustache
Of a man
With a cold
the kintsukuroi life 
What? The visual of a phlegm covered hairy lip doesn’t make you need to jump in the shower again???
LikeLiked by 2 people
Are you telling me my purposeful and mindful attempt at writing really bad poetry, Wulf, is really bad or is it good at being bad?!
LikeLiked by 2 people
I just know there is a deviant hiding somewhere in that wheelchair. 😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ok. This is bad. I’m moving on.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Someone has been trawling my archives. I felt a furtive presence in my back catalogue.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mmmm… Really?! Huh… Odd!
LikeLike
Not really, no. I looked again myself, I only do ‘bad’, not ‘ bad poetry’. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Shame. I think you’d excel at it!
LikeLike