Wow, there are just so many great poems I could be posting now, I really mean it. But most of them are going to have to wait for another day, because it wouldn't be appropriate to continue posting without first paying homage to the one that started it all. G and I wrote this poem together the very first time we hung out at my house in 7th grade (we knew we'd be soul mates from the moment we realized we were the only ones left at school wearing patterned leggings.)When we finished, we were so in love with ourselves over it that we had the poem framed. We also took folded up copies of the poem and slipped it into the lockers of all the popular kids at school, hoping to cause some sort of uproar in the locker bay over what we'd done (sadly, this never happened). It was also after this experience that I decided to make poem writing a habit. Anyway, without further ado, I present:
The Duck with Bad Luck
This is the story of a duck with bad luck:
This duck had bad luck. He was under the tire of a big red truck. What a schmuck.
Therefore, the duck who was a schmuck, was under the truck; obviously he had bad luck.
This proves that the schmucky ducky had bad lucky under the tire of a big red trucky.
Thus, the dumb duck, under the big red truck, must be a schmuck, with very bad luck.
This means that the duck with bad luck is a schmuck and is under the truck.
This concludes that the duckaly under the truckaly was a schmuckaly; he had very bad luckaly. Then the motor of the truck started, and smashed the duck with very bad luck. Boy what a schmuck!
Results: This duck had VERY bad luck.
Ok, so that was 10 times more weird and 20 times less cool that I remember it being, but whatever. It would be weird to hold back and pretend like The Duck with Bad Luck never happened, because it did. It's also a bit tragic that the duck had to die in the end. I wonder what those popular kids thought when they found it in their lockers...
Hanna Anderson!
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