Wergle Flomp

I was delighted to have my lunacy recently recognised by winning a minor prize in the Winning Writers 'Wergle Flomp' competition for parody poems, for which, I believe, there were close to 1500 entries from word-wide. Perhaps that puts me amongst the world's craziest writers!

In January 2000, David Taub tried to write, under the pen name of Wergle Flomp, a poem that would be rejected by poetry.com. He failed!

The contest gives real prizes to poems written in jest and submitted to poetry.com.

((March 2014 - This competition has now changed to being for humorous poems in general, not parody, and with no necessity to submit to poetry.com  
 http://winningwriters.com/our-contests/wergle-flomp-humor-poetry-contest-free ))

The origin of Wergle Flomp can be viewed at 
http://www.scribd.com/doc/209812770/Wergle-Flomp-The-Poems-That-Started-It-All


Here's my winning poem:

Leedabole and the Froggy-hopple

A suddy croakamole: the sinewlade leggymires pushy still
Into the swoonupping girlyfling, her eyebolds transfissured
By the greeny webbles, her spiritule almire at his will,
She holdips his slimeblade bodyling againthro hers.

How can those terrifoldy stiff fingerloppers grippold
And holdify her potentimal princeling now slippy-slidingo from her grippylasp?
And how can bodyling, trying oh so hard not to over-trippold,
But feel the heartypumps
…thumpy thumpy,
…thumpy thumpy,
…near to burstivating where they lie?

A smacker-kisseroogy, maybold a smacker-kisseroogy will break
The magicome spell, retrove the prizal and princeling now appearifolding
Agamem-ning-nong deaddy-diddylo.
                                                        Being so up-caughtafied with this,
So desperangle for successoscopy and not findy a fake
Did she abandonfile cautionment to the windy-puffs and fearfolding
Her last chancit was here, up-puckermole
Before the loosencaving fingerloppers had to let him dropple?

"Leedabole and the Froggy-hopple" is a parody of "Leda and the Swan" by William Butler Yeats. The style is similar to that of the late 'Professor' Stanley Unwin - with apologies.

Translated:

Leda and the Frog

A sudden croak, the sinewed legs pushing still
Into the swooning girl, her eyes transfixed
By the green webs, her spirit almost at his will,
She holds his slimy body against hers.

How can those terrified stiff fingers grip
And hold her potential prince now slipping from her grasp?
And how can body, trying not to trip,
But feel their hearts near bursting where they lie?

A kiss, maybe a kiss will break
The magic spell, return the prize and prince appearing
Agamemnon dead.  
                            Being so caught up with this,
So desperate for success and not a fake
Did she abandon caution to the wind and fearing
Her last chance was here, pucker up
Before the loosening fingers had to let him drop?

 Leda and the Swan    W.B.Yeats

    A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
    Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
    By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
    He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

    How can those terrified vague fingers push
    The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
    And how can body, laid in that white rush,
    But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

    A shudder in the loins engenders there
    The broken wall, the burning roof and tower[20]
    And Agamemnon dead.
                        Being so caught up,
    So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
    Did she put on his knowledge with his power
    Before the indifferent beak could let her drop? 

....Back to writing something sensible!