on beginning to recognize moss

[beth_m]

Hi everyone

I wrote this just now whilst out walking my dog, so apologies for roughness (and I'm not sure whether it's intended to be taken entirely seriously), but any pointers would be much appreciated (am new to this writing malarkey).

ON BEGINNING TO RECOGNIZE MOSS

I've had my dog for a year and a half now
I love her to bits (as they say on Jeremy Kyle)
But she's not the brightest spark in the funeral pyre
She can't pass ANYthing without sniffing it first
She's petrified of missing a morsel
(We call her The Hoover; I'm going to
hire her out to the council as a street cleaner)
Nine times from ten it's a petal or a wrapper
But now and again she hits the jackpot -
Last night's lost chip or
a noisette of cat shit -
So imagine my surprise when finally today
Out on the road in the rain and the grey
She rebuffed a wodge of moss and wheezed on her way
Who knows, give it another six months
or so and she might even recognize leaves.

[Marlow]

Beth, anything with a dog in it always touches my heart. It's cute and funny. I like, "she's not the brightest spark in the funeral pyre"!

[beth_m]

Thank you, Marlow.
Well, there wasn't a lot of choice trying to halfrhyme with 'Jeremy Kyle'!
I have another one called 'The Dog Ate My Lottery Ticket' but it involves cruelty, so you might disapprove.
Thanks for taking the time to read this one.

[skye]

Cute. :)

[Winifred]

I like the light voice of this! I would suggest you strengthen the last line, "or so and..." weakens your ending. I like the wodge of moss, looked up wodge, nice word. I think you can just get away with noisette, it sounds sort of precious/flourish to me, and sort of stopped the flow of the poem for a minute, but it is a light poem.

Do keep up with this writing malarkey!

[mazarane]

I wrote this just now whilst out walking my dog, so apologies for roughness (and I'm not sure whether it's intended to be taken entirely seriously), but any pointers would be much appreciated (am new to this writing malarkey).

I think poetry is similar to painting- polishing doesn't always bring benefits. I enjoyed this- especially the pace of the lines


Last night's lost chip or
a noisette of cat shit -

compared to the the rest of the poem.