Tuesday, 21 April 2009

Categories - 2009

GLAD poem: happy, clappy words with lots of colour
(Competing poets must be wearing lots of colour; the brighter the colours, the better; no greys, browns or pale hues, please...)

DARK poem: depressive words of despair in black
(Competing poets must be wearing black or dark colours; the darker the clothes - and the words - the better)

SHAG poem: sexy words performed sexily
(Competing poets must be in sexy attire, lingerie, fetish, or nude; the more they reveal of their body - and soul - the better; why not have the poem written on the skin, for example?)

DRAG poem: gender-bending words in drag
(Competing poets must be wearing outfits associated with a sex different from their own, however they define it, preferably with a gender-bending theme)

Friday, 17 April 2009

Winning Poems 2008


Pubic Display
by Susie Showers

The thing about my body hair
Is that someone else has put it there
It's not my place to scrape it bare
It wants to poke through my underwear.

Some ladies go to Holloywood, others to Brazil
But my short curlies stay at home
The plane ride makes them ill.

Pubes, fuzz, carpet, rug
Have a peer at your minge, give it a hug.
Or if you're feeling nasty, slap its mouth
Call it a bitch and lock it in the house.

You'll start to get to know your patch
It may enjoy a tennis match
Movie nights and singing clubs
Weekends spent down at the pub.

But if you have to shave your cat
Dyed bright white or darkest black
Do you know where all the stubblies go
Spinning down the plug hole?

To a magical land on the deep blue sea
The Pubic Isles, super trendy
Young spriggins springing in the spring
Package holidays, fishing (beware of crabs).

But bargain travel fun aside
There are those that just get left behind.
They think they're ugly, worthless, fat
The ingrown hairs around one's twat.

Give body hairs a second chance
To curl up next to cotton pants.
Sign the petition over there
To secure a future for an ingrown hair!

The thing about my happy clam
It shouldn't look like new roast ham
It's not my place to pluck it clean
It wants to poke out through my jeans.


by Susie Showers

Fucking squirrel
Fucking looked at me
I saw its glinting grin
But I am armed with poisoned peanuts
We cannot let them win

That fucking squirrel
Its stupid eyes
With lethal stealth it attacks by surprise
But we are strong
And we are big
And we
Are very

Fucking squirrels up their cunting trees
Furry plans up furry sleeves
They know your postcode
Loiter where you work
Fucking squirrels
Sneaky thieves

They take our jobs
They buy all the bread
Those bastard squirrels
Always late with the rent

They don’t say good morning
They jump on your face
I need my space
It’s not their place
You are not my race

I saw this one squirrel,
I’m like “Where’s all your fur?”
With no fuzz on its tail
It looked like a murderer

Fucking squirrels
Don’t belong in the park
And they fucking know that
But they hang out
In the dark

Aaaaaaaaaagh squirrel
Imported from wherever you came from
You eat live birds feet first
You carry disease
You are the worst

Have you ever heard a squirrel make a noise?


That fucking squirrel
The one that looked at me
I saw its glinting grin
But we are armed with poisoned peanuts
We cannot let them win.