I claimed ---and passionately---
that I'd never have a small dog,
much less one with "poo" in its name.
Not for me yappy Yorkies, shivering Chihuahuas,
shaky Shih Tzus, or terrible terriers.
Give me a wolfhound, a Dane, a mastiff,
a dog with paws like saucers,
a bark like thunder, and a tail like a whip,
(Christmas tree be damned!)
I prefer drooling retrievers, dignified shepherds.
hard-working setters, lumbering Bernards.
With this firmly in mind,
I went puppy shopping today.
Meet my Maltipoo.
Cujo.
(I haven't lost my mind completely.)
Shylo and Twixx
Were both in a fix
The Maltipoo sisters both hid
They rampaged the trash
Then, they ran in a flash
Because, they had broken
The clasp on the lid
The owner came home
To give them their bone
And to make sure...
That they both got their licks
But he took the bones away
And to both, he would say
I know you were both in the mix
Nursery Rhyme 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
3/12/2021
Sitting in my backyard on a mild evening
A tint of coolness breezes in the wind
Watching the clouds show their shadowy faces
I close my eyes and rest awake
I sit with my head tilted back...
Waiting for the hot sun to redden my face
With my neatly cut grass a lay
The smell of green touches my nose
Sitting beside me, my pup Maltipoo lays in comfort...
Resting as the sun warms her mane-like hair
The forest behind my slatted fence...
Echoes, from the fluttering of blowing leaves
Shadows are everywhere
Hidden in the bushes...sparrows sing in rhythm
As my hair blows...
I open my eyes; thinking
Such a marvelous day
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