Hunka-Hunka

Once again it’s time for Chelsea Ann Owens’ Terrible Poetry Contest! This week our prompt is Big Rock Candy Mountain.


When I ain’t got no tomorrows

when the strings all bust on my banjo

I’m gonna change my undershirt

an’ go to my hunka hunka heaven on dirt.

 

It’s paradise, hell yes it is

with a little wood shack to take a whiz.

Among green trees and birds that chirp

my hunka hunka heaven on dirt.

 

 

9 responses to “Hunka-Hunka”

  1. Oh, I like this! Fun to read, and I do like that little ‘ol wooden shack. :)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, ghost!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. This was downright lyrical. :D

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ugh! Lyrical of all things. Will I never learn?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. :D I really liked yours!

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Interesting fact. When I was little I had an aunt who called me her hunka-bunka.
    Nope, I’ve got no idea where that came from either. Or what it meant.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hmmm. That is interesting. My hunka-hunka came from Elvis Presley’s “Burning Love.” How it worked its way into this ‘hunka’ bad poetry remains a mystery.

      Like

      1. Ah, a tenuous connection perhaps… a corruption of an Elvis song lyric. Although she was more a Cliff Richard fanatic, which goes to show she had terrible music taste as well as inexplicable pet name choices.

        Liked by 1 person

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