August 18th is Bad Poetry Day. In honor of that fact, I’ve written a bad poem about today.
Oh, August 18th, you wretched day —
Stuck in the middle of endless summer,
Fall leaves and winter snow delayed;
How can I not think you a bummer?
It’s a big day for women, don’t forget:
Ninety years ago today they gained the vote
With a ratified 19th amendment.
(That’s certainly good reason to gloat.)
And let us remember Woodstock,
That most singular of events:
Ended today in ’69 three days of rock,
And lots of mud in hippies’ tents.
Comments will only be accepted in the form of bad poetry.