I am a poet. I write verse.

A Shaggy Rug Tale

  I’m just a lowly, humble rug, Prostrate upon the floor, And people walk all over me, But that’s what rugs are for.   I’m taken out, sometimes, it’s true, And beaten with a stick. I don’t think I deserve it, But it’s just because I’m thick.   My owners call the doctor out, He tends me for a while; He washes me and touches me up, And soothes my twisted pile.   My uncle’s a fitted carpet. He covers a whole room, But my size was preordained at birth Even in my mother’s loom.   My cousin flies around …Read more

The Vietnamese Pot-bellied Pig

My husband bought Fred for my birthday; a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig. He assured me the pigman had told him, That it wouldn’t grow up to be big.   Well, either the pigman was lying Or I fed it on something too rich, For it grew to the size of a bison, And walking a bison’s a bitch!   The difficult thing was I loved him, wrinkly skin, pot belly and all, So I could hardly ask if he’d kept the receipt That promised the pig would stay small.   It started to come in between us, Kept pushing him out …Read more

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