Who knew there was a special day for poets like me. Yes, August 18th is Bad Poetry Day. Mom passed on many wonderful things to me, a love of reading and writing ranking high among them. But the poetry gene missed its mark. Mom is a beautiful poet as is my cousin, Marty Silverthorne. I hope to coerce him into sharing some of his poetry here at a later date.
I attempt poetry in humor or under duress. But in honor of bad poetry, I figured I should let my poetry shine.
Heading nowhere with the lame
All on a trip to find a fish
And maybe even a lovely dish.
Finding none she felt alone.
And ended up with nothing but a bone.
With much effort, and as good as it gets:
I wish I was poetically inclined
Gifted with words so intertwined
Readers couldn't help but engage
As images leapt off the page.
Wait, I'm thinking the first try is a children's book, the second a song.
Maybe my bad poetry is coming along.
A quick question... in my search for grammar accuracy, I constantly run across words or phrases with two camps of correctness. Is it leapt or leaped?