Henry Fool poem competition – second call for entries

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Nnnnnggggghhhhhh. Must write poem!

Drop your children! Shoot the dog! There’s a Henry Fool poetry competition going on! In Henry Fool, as I have hitherto reported, a binman becomes famous by writing a poem that blows everyone’s minds away, as if everyone’s minds were nought but discarded grains of sherbet on a fat man’s moobs. And yet the viewer is cruelly denied knowledge of what the poem might be about. So, put on your thinking homburgs and write the poem that you think the binman should have written (in the comments section of this post).

Thus far we’ve had an entry from me on the subject of wicked, beastly babies; one from Banjo Fett on an enchanting wench called Bessie; and one from Old Rope in which the titular Henry Fool gets his face grated off in the name of poetic endeavour. We’ve also had an entry from Simon Armitage, but I disqualified it because he obviously got his mum to help him (note: this is forbidden).

The winner shall receive the Nobel Prize for Literature, a £3 book token (expired) and a piggy-back from Brian Blessed.

Here are a few suggestions for subjects you might want to address:

The Littlest Hobo

Brain Death

Chinese/ Indian Burns

John Coltrane’s Prostate

Potato Salad

Fingermouse

Bloodletting

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11 Responses to “Henry Fool poem competition – second call for entries”

  1. oldrope Says:

    If I had known these were valid topics my poem would have been different. I thought Fingermouse was a no go zone?

  2. Working Titles 4 « The Agoraphobic Reviewer Says:

    […] The Agoraphobic Reviewer Reviewing films etc. so you (and I) don't have to watch them « Henry Fool poem competition – second call for entries […]

  3. johnlebaptiste Says:

    There is no zone that is off limits to Finger Mouse. That whiskered digit-beast gets everywhere!

  4. Cliff Knoetz Says:

    Actually I am not known so much for my poetry as for the string of thriller novels which I am currently writing occasionally, of which opening chapters of the first of which can be sampled here: http://cliffknoetz.wordpress.com/.

    However, I am willing to “pen” something for your competition as an acquaintance (rather less than a friend as it happens) mentioned the inspiring nature of the source artist and also that there was a large cash prize, which I would prefer to receive as soon as possible.

    I understand Mr. Grim’s poem runs rather long so I’ve done the same. Perhaps an excerpt would suffice for victory (which is also the title, by coincidence) so from the sixth stanza, lines eight through twelve:

    Amid my howls juice gouts, abetted sleet,
    As I dip my jowls into your wetted heat.
    Foully I truffle through your foetid peat
    And cowally snuffle at your fettered seat.

  5. johnlebaptiste Says:

    Thanks Cliff! This is a spicy form of genius. I like ‘Foully I truffle through your foetid peat’ in particular, although line 2 is pretty ace too. I’d like to see more stanzas from this opus. That thriller novel you are working on is great. I recommend AR readers check it out.

    There is indeed a large cash prize, if by cash you mean ‘Brian Blessed’ and if by ‘prize’ you mean piggy-back ride: to wit, there is a large Brian Blessed Piggy-Back Ride to be won. You’ll have to sign some disclaimers before you mount him though. He tends to buckaroo a lot unless you slow him down with rice pudding first.

    AR readers may care to note that the competition is still open. NB Simon Armitage: stop sending me things that your mum has clearly written.

  6. oldrope Says:

    This new entry threatens to eclipse us all and as such I am duly searching for grounds to disqualify the bastard.

    Please publish in full to allow me to further my search

  7. Cliff Knoetz Says:

    I am concerned and angered by your trivialising of the quest for renumeroration, which is why I have lingered reluctantly on the edge of posting more. However, I do admire a man well able to daily eat his own weight in roasted beef and the prospect of an intimate carrying would not be too disappointing. So, to now put things more briefly, I will condense to provide the first and last stanzas only, to fully cement myself in the blessed winning position. The reading is taken from:

    “An Excerpt Should Suffice for Victory”
    ~ a Cliff Knoetz poem, by Cliff Knoetz

    Within a garbage can, beneath the lid
    I found a human treasure, freshly hid,
    A coiled brown-gold ingot of bowel rid –
    Man’s peak accomplishment, on auction. Bid!

    With sheet attached I wake from too-ripe dream
    And thus discover what would wood-pipe sem-
    -an seem to be, now fled my oaken beam,
    Entrusting crusting, scented, soaken cream.

    Or possibly “gleam”. I am not sure about the last word. So often the case!

  8. johnlebaptiste Says:

    An excellent two stanzas from the enigmatic Knoetz. I’m afraid I have to disqualify you for using the phrase ‘wood-pipe’ however. There are strict rules about this sort of thing. Also, I’m sad to relate that Brian Blessed has recently passed away from a beef-related condition. You can still piggy-back him if you like however.

  9. oldrope Says:

    Since the meagre two stanzas afforded us by this upstart made me laugh and gurlge like a baby in a bum-oil ad, it weighs upon me to withdraw my earlier calls for disqualification. I am honour bound. As luck would have it, he has already been bitten by the cruel mouth of Law. ‘Wood-pipe’ indeed! Read the Rulebook Cliff. Such crudespeak sets JLBs nan off on one of her turns – and she’s judging this despite our hosts claims to the contrary.

  10. johnlebaptiste Says:

    It’s true. Granny Le Baptiste practically shorted out her ear trumpet when you started rolling out the ‘wood-pipe’ Cliff. What were you thinking?

  11. Cliff Knoetz Says:

    This is most disappointing. You will be hearing from my, etc. etc.

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