I admit I’m not a poetry lover. I don’t even like poetry. I like it better when it rhymes, like the Ancient Mariner. Sometimes I read the poetry in The New Yorker, and inevitably sneer or mutter “Jesus Christ.” I used to think it was a failure on my part, but now I’m comfortable with all of my biases.

I once had a job that involved stupid magazines with stupid ads for suckers, like devices to enlarge your breasts overnight. One of the ads was for a poetry contest, that was clearly a scam. It was something like “YOU TOO COULD BE A POET! ENTER THIS CONTEST AND WIN $10,000!”

I showed it to my young teenager and we decided to send in a poem to find out what the scam was. It was back in 1990, but I still remember laughing as we took turns composing it. Max was reading Stephen King at the time, who was a master of the idiotic mixed metaphor, and you can see the Stephen King influence throughout.

Sure enough, our poem won an Honorable Mention! and we could see it published in a nice anthology for only $49.95! We decided to pass. *If you want to try this too, go here.

Keeping in mind my disappreciation for poetry, I was excited to discover a poem by my husband’s ex-wife, my bête noire and the Anti-me. While I try to follow her monthly column in her community newspaper, somehow the poem escaped my attention until now. “Escaped my attention” is the kind of thing she would write, so I apologize, but she would have prefaced it with “hitherto.”

I won’t pretend to “get” this poem; You don’t need to get it to enjoy it, right? But once I figured out its subject, I was inspired to write my own elegy:

Ode To The Tennessee 3

What fresh hell is this! Voting
To kick them out for
Protesting

Even the fat white lady knew how
Wrong
This was. Plus

The 2 young black guys
Are so hot!
Especially the Brother with
The earring and long hair

I even followed
Him
On Instagram.

I shared it with my friend M, a published novelist and hardcore fan of the Ex’s work, and he countered with this:

Tennessee 3 braving
and behaving
No
The guy with the Afro is the hotter of the 2

Whew! I’d hate to have to pick the winner here, but I would love to pick the winner of your entries! So, (YOU TOO COULD BE A POET!) please submit a poem about the Tennessee Three and the winner will get a nice certificate! If anyone out there is an artist, you can help design it.

Don’t be shy! There are no losers, only winners!

After all my labor at Refinery 29, I won a contest at Fashion Intel! Yay! I haven’t had a watch since I lost mine in January, so this is the perfect prize.

Some bitch castigated me for entering the Refinery 29 contests, like it was proof positive of my lonely boring wretched life as a guilt-ridden old crone with no purpose in life.

Fuck you, bitch! My purpose was winning a watch and now I’ve done it.

Why I didn’t win the latest Refinery 29 contest where you had to describe your “steamiest seduction story” is a total mystery, though.   My story was by far the least nauseating. Oh well.

In any case, it has been exhausting to read the hate mail that’s been pouring in this week. If you’re a raving moron who can’t spell “you’re” but you like the word “vitriol,” I know I’ll be hearing from you.   But try to remember: You can’t hurt me and you can’t shut me up.

Love, xo SW

The prize is a bottle of the “ultimate pink” nail polish by Deborah Lippman.

Look how that bitch above me has to “throw on” her shoes right after I said I’d “throw on” my Wangs.   What a copycat!

Refinery 29 is running ANOTHER contest, this time to win a piece of Rossmore Jewelry. You just have to write about your favorite summer accessory and the most interesting answer will win.

Imagine my horror to find that some bitch named Jinjen wrote about an alligator foot necklace that goes with all her dark and tribal blah blah blah, a full hour before I wrote my entry. Fuck! What a cheater!