The Worst Poem, or Poet, in History

The public libraries are stuffed with collections like 'Greatest Modern Poets', 'Anthology of 20th Century Poetry', etc.

But it is human nature to learn as much from glorious blunders as from great success.

Which is the worst (published) poem, or poet in your opinion?

I'll get the ball rolling with a pretty obvious choice. The author of the Tay Bridge Disaster (itself a grander disaster than the bridge's collapse), William McGonnagle, widely regarded as the worst poet in British History.

Here's an excerpt from The Tay Bridge Disaster

Beautiful railway bridge of the silv'ry Tay
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last sabbath day of 1879
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

And it ends:

"Oh! Ill-fated bridge of the silv'ry Tay,
I now must conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed."

What say ye? What is the worst specimen of published poetry you've ever read?

Akrasia

Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Whenever I think of a terrible poem that is inexplicably popular, I think of this.

Whenever I think of a terrible poem that nobody has ever heard of, I think of the earnest outpourings of a young Akrasia to his eventual wife.

Carawaystick

The works of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Sussex are the worst. worse even than Vogons

Kadser

When will my time come for scenery
And will it be too late?
After all
Decades ago I was never able
To get excited
About filling the lungs with ozone
On Salthill Prom.

And when the strangers
To whom I gave a lift
Spoke to me of the extraordinary
Light in the Western sky;
I often missed its changes.
And, later, when words were required
To intervene at the opening of Art Exhibitions,
It was not the same.

What is this tyranny of head that stifles
The eyes, the senses,
All play on the strings of the heart.

And, if there is a healing,
It is in the depth of a silence,
Whose plumbed depths require
A journey through realms of pain
That must be faced alone.
The hero, setting out,
Will meet an ally at a crucial moment.
But the journey home
Is mostly alone.

When my time comes
I will have made my journey
And through all my senses will explode
The evidence of light
And air and water, fire and earth.

I live for that moment.

Ouch. Poor President Higgins.

Speaking of the Higgins clan, is Rita Ann Higgins a poet at all?

I love her poem titles, but the substance of her work usually leaves me crestfallen. Only today, I was re-reading Philomena's Revenge, and whilst much of it is very funny, some of it is even profound, I can't quite convince myself that it's poetry.

Day Lewin

I hope it is ok to quote an anthology, rather than a single poet or poem: but this book was my original introduction to the Finest of Terrible Poetry.
https://vulpeslibris.wordpress.com/2010/03/03/the-stuffed-owl-an-anthology-of-bad-verse-selected-and-arranged-by-d-b-wyndham-lewis-and-charles-lee/
It contains many breath-takingly bad specimens of that art.
May I just say, Wordsworth is well represented.

Guaranteed to be good for a giggle.
See, alliteration makes the throat wiggle.

That link may be broken, try this one

https://vulpeslibris.wordpress.com/2010/03/03/the-stuffed-owl-an-anthology-of-bad-verse-selected-and-arranged-by-d-b-wyndham-lewis-and-charles-lee/

Sounds like one for the coffee table alright.