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 pie izz what I am.
I KNOW it!
I OWN it!
ShaZAM!
A cutie pie
izz what I am!
Dis my furst origgonal pome. Sorry for da spelling. I izz puppy, you no. Spelling not on da list of tings I need. Treats are on da list. Also bones, my blankee, an lotza cuddles. (O – an my minkey and da bare. I chace dem when Mommy trows dem.  I nevr bring ’em back, do.) But spelling… not so much.

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 really 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’ dere’s faks and den dere’s 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.

 

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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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