The Were-Pug – Not Your Usual Paranormal
April is National Poetry Month! I’ll bet you didn’t know that before I started writing short stories and novels I was a poet. I wrote a lot of poetry, right from my earliest days. My first published piece was from when I was seven years old. It was a poem about Roquefort salad dressing. (One of my favorite things.) It was published in a children’s magazine.
Later, I expressed myself through a wide variety of poems, and was writing poetry exclusively until 1993. My first published book of short stories had five poems in it, interspersed between the stories. I still write poetry, though with much less frequency.
I’m going to share one of my poems with you today. It’s not a love poem, but I think it’ll make you laugh.
Copyright ©Patricia Green 2014. All rights reserved.
With sharp white teeth and sharper claws
The pug dog goes a sniffin’.
He doesn’t care for on-leash laws,
It’s fetid scent he’s whiffin’.
Sly hidden ‘neath his brushy fur
A secret life is waitin’.
He doesn’t bark, nor play demure,
A target he’s a-ratin’.
He feels the change within his skin;
His mouth it is a-droolin’.
As foamy flecks drip off his chin
He howls like he’s not foolin’.
Attack! He rushes toward his prey.
It skitters away, reelin’.
But it will never get away,
Mortality it’s feelin’.
No vicious beast could be more fierce,
No animal more fright’nin’.
Those high-priced shoes are in for it–
This dog’s as fast as light’nin’.
Once heels are scarred and uppers chewed
The Manolos are hist’ry.
The were-pug traipses off, renewed,
To solve another myst’ry.
Thanks for joining me here today! I hope you’ll get a chance to read a poem this month.