Andria's Really Bad Poetry That Will Probably Make You Throw Up 1st edition

So, I've been going through my filing cabinet tonight because I really have too much stuff that I don't need. I've put a lot in the garbage pile (Okay, I'm really going to put it in the recycling bin) but I've also found tons of writing that I wrote in my wonder years. Tons of bad writing, that is. Short stories, the beginnings of novels, novels that I finished but I now hope are never, ever seen by a publisher. I even found my teenage vampire novel that I began writing long before Stephenie Meyer had her dream. And, of course, there is loads and loads of really awful poetry.

But I don't think I should be the only one who should have to read this terrible stuff; you should have to suffer along with me! So, here's the first edition and, depending on how many people go to the emergency room after reading this, maybe the last edition of Andria's Really Bad Poetry That Will Probably Make You Throw Up (ARBPTWPMYTU).

These first two poems were written when I was a sophomore in college. It was Valentine's Day and my friend Jen and I decided to write "I Hate Men" poetry. These are my two additions to the poetry-writing/man-hating evening.

(Just so you know, I do not hate men; I'm married to one, I have five brothers and a father who are men, and hopefully my boys grow up to be men. However, when you don't have a date on Valentine's, you've gotta do something.)

For the Man I Love

I loved you a long time ago

And I would still love you today

But you didn't ask me to be your valentine

So I wish you'd stay away.

You didn't send me flowers or

Candy very sweet.

So I wish you'd get out of my face

And eat your hairy feet.

If I ever get married

It will not be to you

And if you find this depressing

Choke on a candy heart and turn blue.

Kitchen Utensils Are More Romantic

A can opener is more romantic

The love you offer is simply platonic.

A soup spoon is so much more passionate

Than you in the mood, you lazy, old mutt.

A fork is a better shining, white knight

Although you may try with all of your might

To be like my knife with such dashing flair

But to find romance in men is so rare.

Don't worry, my dear, there is no other.

But why don't you stay home, live with mother.

You're probably thinking, "Wow. That's pretty darn bad." Oh ho ho! You just wait. I have even worse poetry than this! This is among some of the best of my poorly penned pieces

Oh, and, even though this poetry is truly awful, it is still copyrighted by me, so please don't steal it and say that you wrote it. This humiliation belongs to me!