ITT bad poetry

In front of the small crowd remaining
The artist himself was explaining,
"My creation is blue,
And it's partly see-through.
I call it a 'Transparent Painting'."

 

There once was a man named Bryan Mills
Who had a very particular set of skills
When his daughter was taken
All the bad guys were quakin'
'Cos Bryan looks and he finds and he kills

 

an onion sprout once asked itself
how many layers of skin?
from my heart to the earth
and how many from me to the sun?
how coarse how bitter how rough
to far too much from just exactly enough?
it maybe will be that I never will see
from deep within the layers of skin
but only know by the faintest of touch
and by what is sown so only be known

 

As far as onion poetry goes, I still prefer it to Valentine by Carol Anne Duffy.