Chel Owens tempts us, here with her terrible poetry prompt, though this one isn’t actually hers. Take a famous poem. Take each word in the first – or other line – and use those words to end the lines of your poem. Make it about your pet.
Mine takes Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s How Do I Love Thee, Let Me Count The Ways, though since no one says thee these days, I’ve subbed you for it.
How Do I Love You, Let Me Count The Ways
A Golden Shovel poem.
Dog Love Made Manifest
I do wonder HOW
I let you get away with it. I lose concentration and you go and DO
A poo. I
‘m probably listening to a podcast when some little old lady says, ‘LOVE,
He’s crapped over here.’ She expects me to pick it up. ‘YOU
Sure?’ I ask because I’m blowed if I can see it in the leaves. You’ll LET
ME
Take the blame if I don’t pick something up. I’ve lost COUNT
Of THE
Times I’ve had to pretend for you, but I always forgive you your funny little WAYS.
My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published several books: a four book series following Harry Spittle as he grows from hapless student to hapless partner in a London law firm; four others in different genres; a book of poetry; four anthologies of short fiction; and a memoir of my mother. I have several more in the pipeline.
I have been blogging regularly since 2014, on topic as diverse as: poetry based on famous poems; memories from my life; my garden; my dog; a whole variety of short fiction; my attempts at baking and food; travel and the consequent disasters; theatre, film and book reviews; and the occasional thought piece. Mostly it is whatever takes my fancy.
I avoid politics, mostly, and religion, always. I don't mean to upset anyone but if I do, well, sorry and I suggest you go elsewhere.
These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.
TanGental 
Reblogged this on NEW BLOG HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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Super
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I object on behalf of The Society for the Protection and Proliferation of Thee!
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I’m delighted; I should introduce you to my brother. He’s never really left the 18th century – we’re still not sure how he got there
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That’s OK as long as he doesn’t have an MP friend called Jacob!
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I doubt it even though they both hail from the same era.
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Such a good Dog, and now the stimulus for poetry, What can’t that animal do?
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Multi-pawed…
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They always get away … hehe.
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true
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Well done, Mr Wordsmith.
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thank you kindly
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Oh Dog, now you have become a Muse. (Can a boy dog fulfil that role??)
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I’m a modern poet; I think same sex muses must be a thing, even if different species..
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Every dog owner can empathize 💜
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I think I’ve opened up a can of worms, or a bag of…
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Language Timothy!
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Pingback: WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 2/3/2022
This was truly terrible, Geoff. Congratulations.
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you are too generous…
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You sure my dog wasn’t your muse. Terribly done, congrats.
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I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find a sort of muse-group plotting our overthrow as we all bend to peer at the ground at the same moment…
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