Bad, bad, bad. That’s what we headed out to write. But As we found, trying to write badly is not easy. Our poetic discipline kicks in and we still write a good poem. We learn that there is no “bad” poem.

The bad news is, I am flying solo today as Marie is away from her computer and internet connection this week. She will be back ASAP, but until then I’ll be holding the fort.

It’s not all bad news. The wedding of my daughter went off wonderfully and the reception was quite a celebration. She was glowing and my new son (in-law) is everything I would have imagined for my daughter. They’re off on the right foot.

But… we were writing “bad”. And you were all wonderfully “bad”. So my lone task is this: Pick a BEAUTIFUL BLOOM, and so…


This selection is a good “bad” poem rife with imagery and loaded with humor, That’s NOT what makes it bad, and that’s the problem with most of the poems submitted. David’s piece below just jumped out at me,  and receives my BLOOM.

COUNTRY LOVE : New Version ; by David De Jong

I love you bigger, than the back side of my horse.
I can’t wait to see you, so I hurry with the chores.
My love for you is so strong, let me show you how,
Stronger than my tractor, pulling that big old plow.

Holdin’ your hand comes normal, puts me at ease.
While you’re standin there; could you hand me that grease?
You’re just like the spare tire on my old truck,
You help me get goin’ whenever I get stuck.

Won’t never forget the first time you caught my eye,
There at the county fair, when it plopped in your pie.
You licked it; and slicked it; wiped it all clean,
You is the prettiest my eye ever seen.

No one can fix an old rooster the way you do,
How you kill an’ butcher em, fixin’ that fine stew.
They don’t know what hit em when you whack em dead,
Their legs runnin’, chassin’ crazy, lookin’ for their head.

I know how they feel, tryin’ to recollect their hinds,
Love for you drives me loco, the only thing on my mind.
I’ll be thinking on you, while I watch the cows graze,
Like green grass, I’ll be lovin’ you, rest of my days.