A movie theater where you sit
'midst blabbermouths and crinkled wrappers,
a retrospective of Brad Pitt,
a six-mile line to use the crapper.

*********

Un lieu terrible to behold
fetid, foul and mucky,
from whence the bats fly out, I’m told--
I doubt I'll be as lucky.

At the risk of sounding ad hom, Marion, that's not you talking, that's Eurydice :)

At the risk of sounding like a sheepdog encourging his flock with helpful little yaps, I think you're all doing awfully well, with Roger and Sam leading the pack (a pack of sheep?). What I'm going to do I can't think. A sonnet? Humph!

As a prize gloom-monger I have to report that I have only once seen a piece of verse get published in a Speccie comp. that had not specifically invited replies in verse. This one exception was a very short piece of mine!
But I never quite forgave them for paying me less than they paid for the prose pieces. Such seems often to be all too often the lot for light versifiers, though! Monstrous injustice.

But it must be time for it to happen again. So upwards and onwards undespairingly, Eratosphericals, I say together with John. It is a comp. that can take a long time to crack. Incidentally Lighten Up Online publishes the occasional sparkling Speccie reject -- though we give no prize money. Sorry. Further monstrous injustice!

.
L’enfer c’est


Hell is the hottest spot around
where all good swingers can be found.
You might encounter an old flame
but newer flames put her to shame.
You’ll sip a drink whose swizzle stick
will start to smoke and sizzle quick.
The disco band will burn your ears –
those guys with horns have played for years.
At dinner, they will serve you well:
flambéed in wine, you’ll taste just swell.
.

l’Enfer c’est being a dodgy poet,
l'Enfer c’est, worse, you don’t know it.

l’Enfer c’est Mother prefers your ex,
l’Enfer c’est Dad, you’re gay- he suspects.

l’Enfer c’est pussy, stuck down a well,
l’Enfer c’estbeing the bat out of hell.

l’Enfer c’est the love you are losing,
l’Enfer c’est being too skint to go boozing.

l’Enfer c’est a Boy Band singing,
l’Enfer c’est your ship is sinking

l’Enfer c’est getting laid off.
l’Enfer c’est Bernie Madoff

l’Enfer c’est being out of the main herd.
l’Enfer c’est your book remaindered.

l’Enfer c’est losing the plot
l’Enfer c’est the luck you got.

l’Enver c’est your opus slighted.
l’Enver c’est your rival knighted.

l'Enfer c'est B. Fawlty
l'Enfer c'est Gene Autres

Hell is...

You're walking naked through the mall;
you're falling through the air;
you're on the stage and can't recall
your lines; you see the glare
of demon faces, raging, mad,
all coming after you:
it's every nightmare you ever had
come true.


*******


A Warm Welcome

Step lively folks, and as you enter
abandon hope and yada yada...
The boat boards here; keep to the center--
A question? Yes. He does wear Prada.

Marion, the Prada poem is very funny, though it might not fit the bill for the competition.

Yeah, Bob, I see what you mean. Not exactly a description of Hell .. although it is descriptive as kind of a mood piece, n'est-ce pas?

How 'bout these? I think the first one doesn't fit the bill, but the second one does, big time.


I think it fair to mention
I'm surely bound for heaven:
I've had no good intentions
since 1957.

*******

Hell is damnation. Hell is forever.
Hell is no chocolate. Ever. Ever.

Aw Hell...

nevermind.