Admit It

I entered the poem below in the AMERICAN MIDOL contest over at Cheaper Than Therapy. It was a competition of crappy poems, and while I agree that several people out there submitted crappier poems than mine - I still don't thing it was recognized as a truely crappy poem - and that's important to me.

Read it and weep - then tell me what you think.


Boy, does Post Partum Depression Suck
I wish I could get mad, but I have no truck
with the doctor, that cad
or the ambulance driver that was, to say it nicely, bad

But next time I'll know what to do
when the mailman tells me "The next Publishers Clearing House winner could be you."
I'll slam the door in his face
and put that sneaky sucker in his place

He didn't profess love undieing
nor did he ever stop trying
he looked at me with eyes so innocently
and I hadn't had any carnal attention recently

So I couldn't resist
and before I knew it I had been kissed
and it culminated in urgent lovin'
and putting a bun in the oven

Now what do I tell my husband true
this baby growing inside me belongs to you
never mind about your vascetomy
I know you've been meeting the preachers wife at the rectory.



Come on now, you know it's terrible. Fess up.