In honour of former vice-president Gore, Qohel is pleased to announce a new literary form, the goresicle.
The goresicle is a short poem of ten lines or less. It has lines that do not scan, and rhymes that do not rhyme. It contains factual errors. It expresses concern about a non-existent crisis.
The Last Penguin
A penguin circles slowly overhead.
It is the last of its kind.
Below, a polar bear cannot lift its head.
The blinding sun has made it blind.
Despair weighs heavy on its brow.
It cannot look up even now.
It cannot jump to catch the penguin.
The cloying warmth has sapped the engine
of its soul.
Worthy of the Vogons, I think, if not of the miraculously bad Mr Gore himself.
Please add further examples in comments. A prize of $20 worth of karma offsets to the best. Worst. Whatever.