ForumThe Sandbox ► Bad poetry for bad people
Fire fire fire
fire fire fire fire fire
fire fire fier
Dear babycarrot




Lives in the shadow of the carrot


(This one made the rounds online and was said to be by Ibsen, but I'm like 99% sure that isn't true. Still felt suited to this thread.)
Lazro said:
Fun fact of the day:
Haiku did not have to fit

it's snowing on mt. fuji
Smileys make me feel smiley
smiley smiley smiley
I am smiling smililey
You bet your ass my ear flippin itches,
It's irritating me like a pack full of bitches

Boom boom
I go vroom vroom
Takin off on my broom broom
the ayy lmaos are in my head
im in bed
Throat infection


Grape sized loogies sailing


In toiling and in sink

My hack resounds

Disease abounds

Why the fuck was I excited for Fall.
Here is a poem I wrote about r/politics


The Jorgun Blorgun translated so many times idek

Joerg Blorgun Zak Mytty

Vie clusterfluxer Moogerfooger are "Blorguns Jerg" and "legs"
I significance of e inveterate neighbors "If the fetus.
"Narrated Maymays" and "Do not doubt it Aron ritual" Danke.
Joerg blorgun počnaa to wear slinging and profitable underground
Whippersnapper Dootering $ Ruthin. Jas blorguns Jorg
Allow me here to be photographed are four three heart stomach. e
Sega Follow me, "I am the door" smashed. I'm prepared
No Stahp "beatnik coffee around in the washing-Davey, the last angle at Jones.
No one wants Joerg Blorgun. So stahp to "Ada
Boy m'young spa night, jas sayings story for some it will never to forget, and
I go to this device.

1420 "I am part of the terms of the players moite
Negoviot younger brother during many sea Minimooger
Relief washed off. He said: "Loch Ness Monster"
This is a bad boy smeeše said that, it resumes sailing
His life story. Zastanavme for the moment "sea port
Collecting candle part of the British merchant island Isla.
It has a priority on sewn services, and we agreed we Jerg Blorgun.
It is more than 69 kilometers and bolidot shaking attack nasiot Castle
Kaufman was fear that the cancellation of life. That he wanted to get back in Jerg. go prasav
He stirs return medium, and not the money, "said the
Didi trees. "I can not go SETIV that they collect
Kaufman and 300 rates below the surface of the stone! A "Tell me"
I a'int gave each tree Didi Monster of Loch Ness! "However, the current one is only a hour
Swimming is understood that zabavuvaat to me, "the Loch Ness".
Well jas stole Minster realized mojata cancer! Lost, but jas Jorg
blorgun, i can not last for more, a jas hit blorgun Roger Joerg cancer. "
Danke gift celerbrating Sekogas closes five. "
Gutentag and Tua.
Rain, rain,
Go the fuck away,
Little Frosties
Want to play
Music and march
Without getting soaking wet
For the third goddamn day in a row
Thank you very much



as you may see
I don't know the lyrics to circle of life. . . bee

I'm trying to rhyme
just give me some time

Stop typing I oughta
McGonagall was famous as a bad poet
Although it appeared he did not know it.
He wrote hundreds of poetic gems
which included some very unusual strategems.
So please remember this bard of Dundee
and read some of his poems when you are taking tea.
I love vogon poetry very much
It tried to kill mr. dent and such
For some reason this poem actually rhymes
I just wrote this terrible thing and it just came so naturally, should I be worried?
Tuesday morning about Didbury
the chemical fog showed into
when man jumps the towers
left big messy
Yours and mine

I sleep, it's time
the night goes, yes
but where, who cares
when it makes way for another tomorrow
that drips and drips and drags itself
and eats alive bird feet and stems
of plants, among which I no longer
pour myself.

What a pain, my god
I am tried in absentia
in absentia of you, you bastard.
and so it is Autumn again,
and so I see the season of death,
agitated, in front of my eyes,
like a costume rehearsal for
fucking white slumber eternal,
hiatus flanked by springs, no more.

The bastards speak of gold
like deranged prospectors
in leaves, in hearts, in moods,
in the eyes of schoolchildren who
with pearly incisors,
bite at the fruit of life and
opportunity. Such graceful creatures, unaware
that what lies in the leaf-bed,
romantically and affected,
are the birds
and the insects
and the sun
and all life, dying.

And I, a philosopher and a scholar,
and a gentleman of sorts,
lie with them, accepting, yet bitter,
eating my heart out, garnished,
of course, with the destructive phantasies of the could have beens
of my mammalian brain. What ridiculous self
is left can witness itself -
I, troubled, naked, defective,
a moribund, the hands shaking and grappling
the remains of the sandcastle of
what was yours and mine.
I did not write this poem, but rather found it stuck to a tree near where I live. Backstory: Politicians want to remove forest close to where I live to build more houses. (Relatively tall houses at that.) Activists have rallied and are hoping to make the forest a nature reserve. One of these activists has written the poem below.

Disclaimer: I really hope the forest will be made a nature reserve because it's a good forest. I'm not mocking the activist movement as such, I just think the poem is rather bad.

A poem dedicated to the threatened forests in Eriksberg*

Do you know which fate
maybe awaits you?

Is that why your
majestic crowns
sway so sadly in the autumn wind?

You see us walk on the paths
your branches cry for help.

Powerless we walk on
carrying a heart-wrenching sorrow:
what if your lives cannot be saved?


When you step into a hospitable
tree family's living room
do you bring the chainsaw?

They have lived here for several hundred years
we have only existed for a short time
they have a bigger right
to the place than we.

Defenceless they cannot flee
from a massacre
so we must protect them!

(*Eriksberg is the neighbourhood where the forest is.)
I am choosing to believe that the poem suffers from a string of bad translations, and that once it was a good poem.

Please let me live in my dream world Jaxx. I have little else.
The harsh, cold wind is howling
Much like a whirlling storm.
Me could ne'er contain it.
Heaven knows,
Me have tried.
Ne'er let them in.
Do not let them see.
Thou be'est the aproved young woman
Thou are obligated to be.
Concelest, ne'er feel
Ne'er alow them to know.
Well, of now, they know.
*not written by me*

Haikus are easy,
But sometimes they don't make sense.
Allow it to proceed!
allow it to advance!
Methinks me can not detain it,
allow it to progress!
allow it to pass!
Thou must turnest away and forcely shut the door!
I am apathetic! towards what they are soon to declaire about me.
I will let the temptest rage on!
The frost ne'er troubbled me, at any rate.
(That is exactly the right thing to post here.)
Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue;
In some slavic languages this poem rhymes
That just sounds like one of Jean-Ralphio's raps.
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