Late Nite FDL: And The Winner Is…
What a remarkable week of late nite poetry it’s been. If the man who inspired Dickfest was even half so clever as those he moved to poetic musing this week why there would be no call for such festivity, so for all his limitations we must thank him.
Because Meteor Blades suggested it, and because it damned near killed me to declare a winner, we are also announcing the runner ups.
The bronze medal goes to:
The Ballad of Swagger and Scowler
They came from Wyoming and Texas, addicted to
power and drink;
They bullied and lied, they tortured and spied till most folks
were too scared to blink;
But when Scowl shot a hunter he thought was a bird and
Swag let New Orleans drown,
Folks finally saw what these guys really were: a crusty old
coot and a clown.
by a littlemusicalityplease
In second place, and by only the smallest fraction (one vote), our silver medalist is:
An accident it must have been,
And not a planned attack
Because Dick shot him in the face
Instead of in the back.
And the gold goes to:
If epitaphs were polygraphs,
This, terse and edifying,
Would crown the veep in final sleep:
Here lies Big Time–still lying.
Thanks to everyone who entered. It was an exceptional contest. A whole lot of work but well worth it, very inspirational. Thanks also to everyone who took time to read all the entries and give such careful deliberation to their votes, and 88 please email me and I’ll make sure Bill Maher gets you your book and poster.
I managed to mangle a couple via cut and paste and did not do them justice in the contest but I can’t lay my hands on them right now so they will be featured in upcoming Late Nites as an extra bonus treat.
If you would like to show your appreciation to all the poets who participated, you can do so by contributing to the tip jar for the preservation of Democracy.
(graphic by Monk at Inflatable Dartboard)