I am but a home poet.
Prompts dog me,
thrown out as commands with treats.
Sit. Roll over. Shake.
Go fetch.
Bring it to Mr. Linky.
Drop it. Drop it.

Heel. Heel. Find the rhythm,
don’t jerk the leash.
Words come to mind with expectations,
arrange them in a meaningful way.
Pen pants, drools,
runs left to right,
left to right . . .

. . . circles round and round,
this way, that way.
Veterinarians call it the zoomies.
Poets call it frustration.
Suddenly it’s done.
And me?
I’m doggone exhausted.

APOLOGIES to those of you who read this post earlier, when for some reason, WordPress deleted all the line formatting and it came across as prose.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Dora asks us to use an animal of our choice (real or imaginary) as a metaphor for how ideas and words take shape for us on the blank page. I had a bit of fun with this one, after having recently spent four days with my daughter’s family, including their almost two year old rambunctious dog! Image created on Bing Create.