I’m not posting a Poem O’ The Week this week, and I don’t even care. Why?

Because this Friday, I will attempt to write 100 Poems In A Day. Yep, my annual run for the ton is happening a week early this year, on account of my having gigs all next week. Click on the link above to find the blog where I’ll be posting each poem as I write it. As you can imagine, my Twitterfeed is going to get pretty busy that day, so apologies in advance.

What I need from you – what I desperately need – are poem titles. I don’t have enough to get me through the day at the moment – my usual sources have been rather unforthcoming. Therefore, I implore you, I beseech you: friend, please suggest one or five or twenty poem titles in the comments below, or via the ‘Contact Me’ link on the right. I need more than 100 in total, so I’ve got options. On the day, I’ll also be taking suggestions via Twitter.

Don’t leave me hanging, team. Quality is not an issue, title-wise. Just spew some out. Let’s do this.

23 thoughts on “Poem O’ The Week: Ha! No Poem!”

  1. Hello, here are a few (apologies for the quality/lack of it):
    Giant Octopus Attack in Melton Mowbray
    I Wonder if that Blackbird Listens to Nü-Metal
    Brit-Pop Killed My Dog
    Alexander the Great, Tutankhamun and Adam Sandler Walked Into a Bar…
    I Share a Desk with a Talking Cake
    The Man Made Out of Post-it Notes
    The Battle of Marathon (aka We Don’t Want Your Snickers)

  2. The Day I Killed A Horse By Accident
    Tim Clare: Horse Murderer
    Equine Death Rattle
    Assault on the Grand National Winner
    The Characters from Golden Axe team up to Battle with a Horse
    Horse-Murder on the Orient Express
    Conan the Horse-Attacking Barbarian
    Death to Horses!
    You And Me And A Horse Makes Three

  3. My friend Medea

    Rabbit foot in soup

    Butterfly war at dawn

    Max, Steve and Barry

    The German who knew my name

    I’m a graff artists sidekick, who holds the paper bag

  4. Here’s some:

    How Magic Actually Really Works For Proper Realsies
    Steven Seagal
    Removing Make-up with a Paint Scraper (An Existential One)
    My Divorce Is Falling Apart
    The Thing About Everything
    “Scythe” Is A Funny Word
    A Mustache Made of Stars
    I *Said* Good Day, Sir
    An Omission of Substance
    Nietzsche’s Hammock

    Godsspeed. x

  5. Shut Up, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Hate Literally Everything

    What Became of Harold Bishop


    Where I Lay My Killing Hat

    The Kangaroo and the Dumpling

    Dances With Traffic Wardens

    Hungover Football Chant

    Leave the Tray

    A Somnambulant Child


    Trapped in a Lift with Hunter S. Thompson


    Imp Prisoned

    Fourteenth Suggestion


    I Liked It, Once


    Dalek Love Poem

    The Last of the Chocobos


    How I learned to stop worrying and stop accidentally killing horses
    Man v Horse – The Duel!
    Tales of the Horse Death Camp
    Tim gets home. There’s a horse in his house. They fight. Tim wins.
    Surprise! You’re Dead! (This poem is addressed to a horse)
    Beware all horses! Here’s Tim Clare!
    The Late Inspector Horse and his friend Lewis.
    A Horse to be Reckoned With
    Flogging a live horse until it is dead
    The Horse Murder Roadshow
    The Last Horse on the Left
    Die Hard, Horse-Boy!
    I Murdered a Horse with a Slice of Leerdammer, Alas.
    The Ballad of Tim Clare and the Horse he Accidentally Killed

  7. Son, I’ve Never Killed A Tiger.
    Charming Snakes.
    I Am The Only Man In The World Who Hates TED Talks.
    Don’t Just Bloody Stand There.
    Infographics Killed My Wife.
    The Case Against Helvitica.
    I Forsook Everything For This.
    Blood Bounce.
    Who’s David Essex?

  8. An Animated Gif Of That Time We Met God
    I Wish I Knew What the Insides of Your Eyes Tasted Like
    The Mile High Club Can’t Handle Me Right Now
    What’s Really In Toothpaste
    Woken To The Sound of Unreeling Duct Tape
    Favourite Bone

  9. From The Perspective of David Dimbleby’s Tattoo
    I Don’t Care If You Invented Gravity, Newton, You’re Still A Massive Prick
    BT Cut Off My Internet and Now I’ve Killed 106
    My Wife Just Left Me For Father Ted
    If Wednesday Came Before Friday
    Ferris Bueller’s Last Day

  10. Is that a thing?
    That is definitely not green.
    Yes. I said yes.
    When it dies it lives.
    She begins at 5.
    Protein. Fat.
    I call you my future. You call me fat.

  11. Man Batter.

    Fish-fingers, chicken-fingers, apple pie, poo.

    I am not an octagon.

    Dial P for Pedant.

    Wedding Ringworm.

    How to be a dickhead.

    Hope they help, (this is not a suggestion).

  12. This Makes You Look MORE Polish
    Their First EP
    Therefore It Is Bad
    Syndicate in the Basement
    Toblerone Blues
    Despite the Satsuma
    Lift Turtle
    Neon Croissant
    He Interjected Reluctantly
    Paris Drakkar

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