For the Dogs

Several years ago, I challenged myself to write silly poems to help manage brain-fog, a side-effect of treatments during a health issue. The idea was to build a rhyming poem around whatever popped into my head as a first line. The resulting poems fall, at best, into the category of Doggerel. Characterized by irregular rhythms and rhymes, doggerel isn’t considered “legitimate” poetry today.

But many famous poets and writers such as Ogden Nash, Geoffrey Chaucer, John Skelton, Hilaire Belloc, Lewis Carroll, Robert Frost, and William Shakespeare purposefully wrote doggerel. I’m in no way comparing myself to those literary greats, but I do feel doggerel deserves some love and I’m sharing a few of my poems with you. Let me know if you love them, hate them, or any other thoughts about them. They got me through a rough patch. Hopefully you’ll find humor, or truth, or solace in them too.

Matilda

Matilda was a happy child

She made potato pies

And dreamed of bold adventuring

With pirates and with spies.

 

Somedays she slew dragons

With flourish and with flair

And only got annoyed with them

On days they singed her hair.

 

Her pirate friends would cheer her on

The spies would run away

But she knew they’d come back again

To play another day.

Cake Balls

There are cake balls in the freezer and hot water in the pot

The lobster’s going in there, though he wishes he were not

And little Amy Ivy, who wiggles like a worm

Is being lectured by her mom, who’s looking very stern

Oh, I want to eat those cake balls, so chocolatey and rich

But I’m older now and my hips will tell

Life can be such a bitch

Contradictions

My gloves have no fingers

My socks have ten toes

Winter makes popsicles out of my nose

Butterflies fly when the breezes are warm

I’ve stood in the eye of a hurricane’s storm

When everything ‘round you is stormy and bleak

With no end in sight and your sleeve has no trick

That’s when you stand tallest, feet firmly in place

And punch all the scary things square in the face

Bobby Thistle

Bobby Thistle learned to whistle walking through the woods.

He ran away from school today and all his father’s “shoulds.”

“You should be brave, you should be strong, and never, ever cry.”

But Bobby’s father never thought to stop and tell him why.

So, Bobby walked among the trees and listened to the leaves.

He watched them dance and almost prance when caught upon the breeze.

All the whirling made him see that leaves are very free.

And sometimes all you really need is just to stop and be.

Breakfast

Wakey, wakey, sleepy head

It’s morning, time to get out of bed.

Slumber time has long since past

Get up, let’s eat, let’s break the fast.

You have eggs and I’ll have toast

Orange juice, coffee, potato roast.

 

Oh let me snuggle a little more

Before the day breaks past the door

And floods my sanity with stuff.

Stave off that rush, I’ve had enough.

But if you’re making pancakes, sweet.

I’ll gladly leave the bed and eat.