- Welcome to Day 1 of the First Annual Nicaragua Dispatch Bad Poetry Festival, a celebration of the stinkiest stanzas our readers could produce. The festival will run all week, with the winner announced next Saturday. The contest is still open to late submissions. To enter, write firstname.lastname@example.org with subject “bad poetry.”
#1 Putrid Prose
By Paul Petrucci
Our love is like a putrid rose,
Decayed and rotting, decomposed.
Rancid, moldy, spoiled and rank.
But I remember years before,
Our love was like a stout, bold boar.
Stout meaning strong, not heavy.
Your adoration, strong and sweet,
Was something like a dog in heat.
Another analogy might be better.
Can’t think of one.
I hope that this, my final chance,
Can save our tender, sweet romance.
That I can find the metaphor,
To open up your heart once more.
To chance upon the simile,
That paints love like a melody,
Or string the sounds that just could be a
But I can’t.
#2. In Search of Hoben Bay
By Joven Bleen
I sat down next to a teen named Royer one day
We rocked on our chairs and he began to say:
“They say there is a bay, far, far away;
Donde the ghosts of coups past goes to play.”
I said: “Interesante Teen, where is that plays?”
He said: “It’s called Hoben Bay.”
Then I noticed he’d been drinking elephant pata all day
And I say “No way. vos tenes cara de bolo face
And he say “fuimonos pueh”
And we went to search for Hoben Bay. Long day.
We saw freshwater sharks lurking in that bay
Then we went to Bar Nehstorr and called it a day.
I ordered an espry. It taste okay.
#3 The Pettifogger: Ode to my Nicaraguan Lawyer
By Chip “Skippy” Sealkiss
You wear a tie of green
Like other lawyers I have seen,
Or a businessman,
A classy stripper,
Or my dog on Halloween
Your handshake is soft and weak,
Like a platypus’s beak
Do you stand to take a leak?
I tower way over you
In centimeters by 32
Could be more
Metric system I never knew
Your waiting room sure smells clean
The couch be gentle on my spleen
Jar of mints
I’ll take my coffee with some cream
You speak in legalese
To me it’s all Chinese
Just don’t screw me, please
Your cell phone is never on
In meetings all day long
Do you check email?
Return your calls?
Oh where did I go wrong?
Then I get the bill
I think I might be ill
How are you in business still?
#4 Power Outage
By Harry Pantalones
Fenosa, you call your self
Union of thieves and robbers
Can you not keep my power on?
Kick me while I’m down
You balk not to charge me steeply
Offering little in return
Under a dark roof I simmer.