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Contests : Wergle Flomp Free Poetry Contest : Past Winners : 2004 : Chris Kuehn
THE CRAVEN
Once upon an early morning, fantasizing til I'm horny
Over many disembodied women never touching me before,
Woke up feeling mighty funky, stimulated, stiff and spunky,
Had the urge to spank the monkey, dreaming of a faceless whore
From a dirty movie I had rented nights before a priceless whore.
Tis release and nothing more.
As I wallowed in wet linen, wondering if I'd been sinnin'
Felt a pang in nether regions, grabbed my gut and slid upon the floor.
Sadly, I was constipated from cuisine far overrated
So that I now contemplated crawling toward the bathroom door.
"Fuckin' bratwurst burgers!" I said, flinging open wide the door,
Tis only gas and nothing more.
"Metamucil," Mom suggested for a colon plugged, congested.
For her son so far unbested, "Matrimony," Mother did implore.
Seven cups of fiber later, stranded in an elevator,
Curse my laxative, "Damn traitor!" while I leak upon the floor.
Ever gladder is my bladder as it empties on the idle floor.
Tis only piss and little more.
Back at home all scoured and dry, I speculate the reason why
no impassioned maiden craves my pithy body to adore.
Eagerly I flip the channels, comfy in my boxer flannels,
Sifting through the football annals, dreaming of the glory days of yore.
Chugging longnecks, munching pretzels, fabricating stellar days of yore.
Merely this and not much more.
Presently, I heard a knocking, furthermore, a door unlocking.
My old girlfriend entered sporting skimpy underwear she wore
Spilling over, stealing thunder, silken, satin bra of wonder
Left no doubt of what lay underneath those things she never wore before.
Thrilled me filled me with enormous longing never felt before.
Left me anxious, wanting more.
Her revealing bosoms jiggling sent me reeling, nonstop giggling
Over hoped for carnal wonders stirred by the countenance she bore.
I'll admit a grand attraction; I would finally get some action.
Checked my package no reaction down below, uneager to explore!
Wildly rummaging through sock drawers, aphrodisiac must I explore.
Little blue pill...need I say more?
Madly, she confessed she missed me as she passionately kissed me.
Ultimately standing tall, my member knew what was in store.
But my bowels began a rumbling colon, too, commenced to grumbling
Off the bed did I go fumbling, sprinting to my bathroom door.
Sweating savage perspiration, dashing through that crucial door.
Metamucil...nevermore.
Certain as that drug Viagra, floods burst forth like Ol' Niagara.
Evil forces unrestrained cascaded in the mug full bore.
All the while that I sit dying, from outside the bitch is crying
Thinking I'm at fault for buying time behind the bathroom door.
Wailing woman feels rejected as she leaves and slams the door.
Tis my luck to fuck no more.
And my ass, as should be fitting, still is sitting, still is shitting
In the pallid porcelain, expelling poisons I abhor.
Spreading wide a Playboy section, I enjoy female perfection,
Yet I still have my erection, intimate companion I adore.
Slender, pleasure sender, hard and true, the heartache mender I adore.
With only you, who needs more?
Owing to no other prospect, I resolved to rough up my suspect,
Strongly gripped the one-eyed snake while feeling nasty to the core.
Interrupting dreams of humping, suddenly there came a bumping
On the door a knuckle thumping she came back to finish up her chore!
"Feeling better, honey?" said the muffled voice, returning to its chore.
Luck returns forevermore!
Feeling sexy, stripped my clothes, unlatched the door and struck a pose,
Marked the silence that preceded shrieking all which chilled me to the core!
With my peter at attention, wished the scene was pure invention,
Oh, lest I forget to mention, sounds of Mother crumpling to the floor.
And that mental image mocking Mom's collapse upon the floor
Shall be lifted nevermore!
Sent as a joke to The American
Poets Society, this poem is the 2004 winner of the Wergle Flomp parody poetry contest sponsored by Winning Writers.
Author Chris Kuehn received a cash prize of $817.70.
About Chris Kuehn
Chris Kuehn resides, writes and teaches in Wisconsin.
She won recent recognition for her 2003 feature-length family movie script Toby Noble's School Project in other contests. Chris writes, "I've wanted to attract a larger audience for my writing although this isn't exactly what I had in mind!
But, it's no accident that this award catapults me toward that goal, for I receive my soul's desire one way or another when I connect with the infinite.
I originally wrote 'The Craven' in response to a challenge from fellow colleagues of my writing group, which elected to mock a prominent author's voice.
Therefore, 'The Craven' became E.A. Poe 'incarnate as a modern, thirty-something bachelor.'
When I dared to consider my work as another kind of parody for Wergle Flomp, I eagerly submitted it to poetryamerica.com.
Though I didn't hear back from them (fancy that!), I am elated to win the Wergle Flomp contest.
As a rebel consciousness to whom everything is at once both sacred and profane, enlisting humor ensures that I don't take myself too seriously.
And because imagination knows no bounds,
I exercise it along with all beneficent freedoms to be enjoyed in this physical existence with appreciation for the divine spirit of creation.
And somewhere out there, Edgar is getting one heck of a kick out of my little travesty, too."
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