I write some poetry – and in the past it’s all been non-rhyming. I find it easier – and it’s a lot more dramatic than rhyming poetry – which suits a lot of my (serious) poems.
But I’m trying to learn how to write more on happy topics, and in poetry, for me, happy = rhyming. This is an association I am working not to make, and I want to learn how to use both rhyming and non-rhyming poetry for serious and not serious topics.
For now, though, enjoy this (slightly pathetic) poem about Bertha and Bob who have 123 dogs (and counting)! Let me know what you think.
Some have one or two,
Others even have a few.
But Bertha and Bob, of Sunny McGee
Had one hundred and twenty three.
It had started when they were young,
And both were scoundrels on the run.
Bob had Kip, a scraggly mutt
Who was a certified madhouse nut.
Dog number 5 was Spot –
A smug Dalmatian covered in dots.
He lived a lonely life,
Because he cheated on his wife.
Dog 18 and 19 had dated before,
When they had long snouts and big paws
Alas, it had ended with divorce,
And the kids went to the horse.
27 and 30 had met by chance,
At the 2007 barnyard dance,
They hit it off and had a pup,
A beagle x bulldog – Buttercup
Buttercup was dog number 36,
And came in after Mr. Chopsticks,
He had been quite overweight
Bertha soon set the boy straight.
Dogs 40 through 47,
Were a family made in heaven
Each brother cared for his own
Play fighting and sharing bones.
A lab nicknamed Sir. Nifty,
Was the McGee’s number 50.
He was agile, a natural on jumps,
But, boy, could he grump.
Dogs 60 to 70 were nondescript,
Except 65 who knew how to skip.
He’d come from the tent
And had an accent
Dog 71 was pug,
Who would only sleep on a rug.
He was friends with 75 –
A terrier called Dr Clive.
Dog 85 and 90 were tri dogs,
And hopped around like frogs.
90 and 91 wore coats,
And had made friends with the goats
Dog 100 was an extraordinary feat –
A greyhound called Alex Pete.
He was mostly pretty nice,
Except when it came to mice
Number 110 was 3 feet tall,
But damn, he had some gall.
He’d had a fight with number 113
A Bull Terrier named Bean.
115 was a poodle,
Who didn’t like the other oodles.
She was flaunty and showy
And had a brother called Joey
Dog 123, their current end,
Had been found on the bend.
Bounding and jumping with joy,
He was their new favourite boy.
Dog 124 is on its way,
At Bob and Bertha it wants to stay.
They’re the best place be,
At their house in Sunny McGee.