Welcome to Day 1 of our II Annual Bad Poetry Festival, a celebration of all the putrid prose and stinky stanzas penned by the lousy poets who didn’t get invited to that other poetry festival that’s going on this week in Granada. The ND’s Bad Poetry Festival will run all week online, with the winner announced on Saturday (either by democratic vote or, more likely yet, by sagacious interpretation of public will). The contest is still open, so enter your stinker today. Write [email protected] with subject “bad poetry.”

 

#1 Alone (In my office)

Alone, in my office
                a moment to think
                perchance to daydream
                and rid myself of drink

Two men approach talking
¡Ocupado! I say
A muffled apology
His shoes are love-ly

Reagan, Kennedy and Sandino
Always five bucks for a cappuccino
Then a quick trip to the duty free
Coffee for Pa, and rum for me

The intercom voice says ‘Now boarding group 1’
Just a few more minutes, then I’ll be done

Alone, in my office
                I hate when they rush
                but my time here is done,
                saith the automatic flush

                                                       -Duffy J. Thunderwood

 

 #2 A Nicaragua

If I ever were to leave my Mother land
Nicaragua, although for a moment,
I will miss it as much as we all miss
Death a certain time,

So that we can live endlessly,
So that there, I can live forever…

                                                      -Luis Manuel Martínez

 

#3 Five-O Creepin’

Five seasons of strife
Four weeks of my life
Three episodes a night
Two gangs in a fight
One city: Baltimore!

                                                    -Luciana Rojas

 

#4 Granada!

Your lake is large and clean
Your volcano is tall and green
The church bells often ring
The parrots like to sing
Children laugh in the park
Music plays after dark
Granada, you are exquisite
Perhaps someday I’ll visit

                                                   -Charlemagne Amrhein IX


#5 Respeto

te voy a contar una historia,
se podría pensar
que estoy equivocado
pero mis ojos no engañan
y mi corazón no mentira

el dinero que llega
en los bolsillos de los turistas
se desliza entre los dedos
como las botellas congeladas
de cerveza

una bestia de carga
se centra con la
ayuda de anteojeras
mientras jala el carreton de
fruta que no ha probado

honrar al trabajador
el agricultor y el maestro
ellos son los que van a
alimentarte y vestirte
y todos tus hermanos

respetar el estudiante
que hace el futuro
ser un lugar mejor
y el artista que hace
todo valga la pena

                                                          -James Austin

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