So….I tried my hand at writing a ballade for a poetry class I’m currently in, and I thought I’d have a little fun with it by writing a (bad) poem about my ugly sweater shopping experience. I’ll admit it—literally NO ONE asked for this—but here you go! Enjoy!
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Ugly Sweaters
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Ugly sweater number one.
Normal at first, gray and long of sleeve.
My eyes scan down before it’s done.
Oh Jeez….
A huge, chunky stocking, stitched to the belly, has a bug-eyed owl—does it have a disease?
The tinkling of the bells would make it hard to hide.
This one is not for keeps.
I pull it off, over my head, and toss it aside.
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Ugly sweater two is fun.
Black, with kittens under the Christmas tree.
Compared to the rest, it’s not overdone.
I don’t hate the way it looks on me.
On a short gal, it would hang to the knees.
A cute sweater in an ugly disguise.
Its stitched bow around my shoulder, I would not freeze.
I pull it off, over my head, and toss it aside.
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Ugly sweater three nearly won.
It’s a scene of Christmas eve.
On the ugliness factor, they’ve really outdone.
Pink mixed with blues, greens, and yellows, makes me want to flee.
I would rather have a sweater the color of a pea.
Everyone, shield your eyes.
The neckline too, doesn’t do much to appease.
I pull it off, over my head, and toss it aside.
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Ugly sweater number four is the winner, I believe.
If I told you I thought it was truly ugly, it would be a lie.
A kitten with bells, Santa hat, mittens, ready to please.
I pull it off, over my head, and toss it to the cart, inside.
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