Roses are red, violets are blue, some poems make me want to spew

The other day, someone was reading a poem I had slung together (slaved over for hours) and asked me where I had uncovered the hidden treasure (in the talent well that is my mind). They were suitably impressed that I had penned such a masterpiece and I politely thanked them for the compliment (jumped up and down like a tart with new boobs). I then proceeded to search for a platform from which to launch my poem to the world.

I found the very place. Poetic Republic is an online competition run in the UK where you upload your work of brilliance (well I do, others upload their drivel) and bingo, bango, you're in the race. The queer element of this competition however, is that the entrants are also the judges. Indeed. I don't understand the formulaic equations that enable it to work but once the competition is closed to entries, participants are each sent 12 random poems and are told to pick their favourite four. There are 3 rounds of eliminations until only 12 are left (one will be mine no doubt.)

Anyhow, judging opened today and I was sent the deepest, innermost thoughts of 12 other budding poets and I must admit, I was shocked. Most of them were total bollocks. They were all about death and dying or love and romance and basically all completely devoid of any originality. The cliches were coming so fast I thought an AFL footballer was going to crawl through my monitor and recite them to me. Outrageous.

So, here I was thinking I was just entering this competition for a laugh but no sir. I am most surely going to win, based on the examples I saw today. I have penned a poem in honour of my impending triumph.

I entered my poem for a lark
Just to share my lyrical spark
But now it seems I have a chance
The other poems I've read are pants
It appears that I'm destined to win
The prize pool is absurdly big
So thank you poets near and far
for letting shine my shooting star
and entering a load of poo
ensuring my poem goes through

Until tomorrow fellow poets xx