by M. J. Schlagle

Created on: April 28, 2008

It's Monday night at six pm.
The poetry contest is about to end.
Chaos erupts as the ratings change,
we check by the moment, we must be deranged.

It becomes an utter free-for-all.
words are dripping off the wall.
keyboards are being absurdly abused,
punctuation and spelling, must be excused.

Odes, and sonnets, rants and rhymes.
hurry now, hear comes the deadline.
Enough time to write one more verse,
What I thought was a talent, seems like a curse.

Listen carefully, hear all the typing
last minute love ditties and satirical sniping.
I for one am having a absolute ball,
taking part in the Helium Free-for-all.

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