The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest – Animals and their pregnancy

animals and their pregnancies

Pregnancy is wearing,

As I’m sure you know,

But not if you’re a Surinam toad,

For guess where their babes grow.

If you said on their back,

You would be halfway right.

If you said the male digs holes

To stash the eggs in you’ve seen the light.

In a 12 hour mating ritual,

He buries those babes deep,

Then the skin grows back,

It’s enough to give me the creeps.

Four and a half months later,

The babes emerge,

Momma Surinam toad must sure shriek,

And lament her maternal urge.

© Deb Whittam 2019

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest #29


Don’t Miss Your Chance


Hi All,

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So do yourself a favor and head over to Smashwords now.

All titles free with Coupon Code SS100.

Love it if you’d share this link with anyone you think might be interested.

Music Challenges – Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?


The muttering in the office was reaching fever pitch even as the pair continued to argue.  His expression was like granite, she was obviously flustered but determined to press home the advantage and claw back her dignity.

They were completely unaware of the one who watched on, disgusted by their pretentious attitudes.  They were both barking mad.

Just when the war of words appeared to be over they realized he was there, standing in the shadows, immovable and invisible and as the emotions tumbled over their faces he realized the truth.

They thought he was deceiving them.  Hurt, he turned.

© Deb Whittam 2019

Music Challenges – Do you really want to hurt me?

50 Word Thursday #28

Image by Bellinon from Pixabay

To most it would seem like a quaint laneway, in a quaint English town but experience had taught him early that appearances were deceptive.

For years she had laboured, writing masterpieces which challenged the imagination, creating worlds which were magical and mystifying and characters that tore your tranquility to shreds.

She had submitted them to all and sundry, certain that they would be recognized for the works of art that they were.

Then her best friend sent her doodle of the freaked out bird to the local newspaper with her poem entitled “Let the wild rumpus start.”

Instant success but while some would have imagined that she would be excited she couldn’t help feeling like Conan Arthur Doyle.  Talent wasted to satisfy the masses.

© Deb Whittam 2019

50 Word Thursday #28