Sorry, Bob, you flunk.
Kerplunk.
Not even your former skunk
smell can rescue you, unc'.
**'''''''
Believe me, you will never win if you keep writing good stuff.
Wendy and I are still leading.
You don't seem to understand what makes a poem BAD.
Oft I think of fairyland
where you and me could rein,
as King and Queen of a merry band
no worries in our brain.
But since we are mere mortals, dear,
and subject to mortal strains
and daily stresses in our lives
may love provide the bane
to make our worries light
and soften our dour pain.
O take my hand and let us skip
warily through life's pitfalls,
a heavenly kiss is not amiss
or two or three withal.
Oft I think of fairyland
where you and me could rein,
as King and Queen of a merry band
no worries in our brain.
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