There’s a new “beat” poet in town.

Finally – a new poet explodes upon the literary scene. Her name is Lucy, and she’s a puppy. She has taken pencil in paw and written her first opus. Enjoy.

“Dey say a cutie pi izz what I am.
I KNOW it!
I OWN it!
A cutie pi
izz what I am!”

Dis my furst origgonal pome. Sorry for da spellen. I izz puppy, you no. Spellen not on da list of tings I knead. Treats are on da list. Also bones, my blankee, an lotza kuddles. (O – an my minkey and da bare. I chace dem when Mommy trows dem. (I nevr bring dem bak, doe.) But spellen izz not so much big deel.

I just want to tank da nice people who tink I izz cute.

Because dey izz rite – I izz frickin adorbs.

Mommy sez I can’t say dis, because izz narssissticknaresizisicknarsiktik…self-centurd an rood.  But Mommy is wrong, becuz I reely IZZ frickin adorbs. Dis izz a fak, and faks izz reel.

Or dey were – befor dat weird orange two-legger started orduring eveyboddy aroun and sayin deres faks and den deres alturnet  allternent not reel faks, dependin’ how he feelz at da moment. I tink heez mor narssissizzik  selfie-centurd an rood dan ME!

Fur sure.

Lader, peeps.

Luv, Lucy



About merseamersea

setter of cryptic crosswords, designer of jewelry, paper and card maker, editor, quilter, embroiderer, cook, avid mystery reader and occasional writer. Find me on Facebook as Maggie-beth Rees Rasor.
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