I haven’t posted a poem for a while, and that’s for several reason:
- I haven’t written a lot of them recently
- Anything I have written has been for the Hollywood Gossip series
- When I do write them, either:
- They’re too personal for me to feel comfortable sharing
- I forget
So if you enjoy my poetry and have been wondering why I haven’t posted much lately, that’s why.
Today, though, I feel like crap.
And I’m a firm believer in focusing on things that make you feel better when you feel like crap.
And poetry makes me feel better. So does Millie. And so does a good laugh.
Which is why I’m sharing this poem with you.
(That and I was reminded of it while talking to a friend.)
I can’t remember what inspired me to want to write about it.
But, here it is…
Brew dog
You stand at the door, watching the rain
Infuriated it’s this time again.
How has it come around so fast
Why can’t the emptiness just last?
You whimper and step back
Not falling for our nonsense claptrap
It may be your garden, but it isn’t your loo
There’s no way you’re using it for a poo.
We put on your coat and your lead
Thankful at least you’ve peed
You glare at us, not wanting to go
But you have to, you know.
Forward, stop, forward, sniff
For some reason, a poo sends you in a tizz.
You hate to go, but feel better when you do
How did we end up with a dog afraid of a poo?
