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!
Ugly Sweaters
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.
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.
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.
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.