Writer's Block: Poetry Break

[reynardo]

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Oh this is a hard choice. I've been inspired to write a lot over the years. This, however, I am rather proud of. It's about something that our dear dog did some years ago

Dogor-Cuton's Poem

I had a meaty lamb shank
I hid it somewhere safe
Tucked behind a big red bag
In some dark secret place.

I couldn't get back to it!
I tried and tried and tried.
The bag had moved and blocked my way.
I barked and howled and cried.

The lamb shank started smelling -
So sweet and stinky-good,
But out of reach behind that bag,
My poor, lost, smelly food.

The nights became much warmer,
My humans came to bed
And muttered loud about the scent
That wafted past their head.

They did not know about my stash
So checked under the house
And wondered if a rat had died
Or some large, noisome mouse.

They then discovered where the source
Of wondrous odours lay
When they delved deep into the place
My shank had gone astray.

They opened up the wardrobe door
And pulled out dress and shoe,
And every time they thought they'd won
The smell would start anew.

Until the man removed the bag
That covered my poor shank,
And to my joy, the meat was green
And boy, that lamb shank stank!

Then, woe is me, he took my prize,
My sweetly hoarded bone,
Wrapped it up in many bags
And threw it from our home!

I've tried again, a dozen times
To re-create my prize,
I left them bones out in the sun,
Encouraged bugs and flies,

But never since have I achieved
The truly putrid clone
Of nearly-rotted yet-still-whole
My long lost special bone.

Comments

[nefaria.livejournal.com]

Humans depriving poor, starving animals of their just deserts. It's such a sad recurring theme, I hope the day may come when tragic poetry such as this will no longer need to be written.

[reynardo.livejournal.com]

And sadly utterly true. The first night we just thought the bedclothes needed changing. The next night it was "ugh, what's died in here?" And then...