A New Tradition--Bad Holiday Odes

By now everyone knows I have a certain twisted affection for bad poetry. I especially like to read bad poetry aloud. I use a hushed-smarty-pants voice and I add in a lot of dramatic pauses. If someone’s watching me (an audience is one or more people) I may stare at them intently for a moment as if I have a lot of depth to me. I like it when my audience snaps. And so…a new holiday tradition. Please join me in writing your own bad holiday ode. You can submit it to me via email heyblunderwoman@gmail.com or in the comments section of this blog. I’ll copy your ode not into the comment section, oh no, but into the very body of this blog and maybe, maybe even add a picture.

So I challenge you: bring me you Christmas trees, your shopping, your stressed out holiday meal with drunk family members. Bring me your bad poetry, your overdone metaphors, your pointlessly deep ideas. And may your Christmas be merry and bright.

Here’s an ode to get us a started:

Ode to Santa Claus

by Tanya Eby

Dear Santa…

My dear, beloved, Santa,

I’ve been thinking about you

a lot.

You’re such a giver, you red-clothed devil you.

Let me be your minion.

I want to trim your tree,


I want to decorate your


of love.

Let me rub your belly as you tickle

my fancy.

Oh, Santa, I know it might not seem appropriate

but I’ve always had a thing for older men

(like Colin Firth, sure, but I also love Gregory Peck even though I’m not sure if he’s alive or dead.)

Santa, you fill me

with joy

Let me give you something back--

my back Santa.

I love you. I adore you.

It might be your beard, your rosy cheeks, whatever

I don’t care.

I just want you to know that I

can be naughty or nice

I’ll be whatever you want

because I believe in you.

Please, believe in me

and the depths of my affection

like cold bells ringing in the night.

Santa, it just isn’t Christmas

without you in

my sleigh


An Ode to Mistletoe

by Cheryl

Mistletoe, you spy, you seasonal infiltrator.

James Bond looks at you in envy.

0-Toe-7, super spy.

Deadly in the wild, choking your host,

If your berries are plucked, you poison.

But all fades in your super power -


From one unsuspecting victim to another you flit,

a holiday spider, lurking above innocents,

Casting your spell,

Linking, if only for a moment,

Two in affection.

Ah, mistletoe, the power you wield!


Super spy, lover.