Poetry Thursday. Humour

Over at Poetry Thursday, this week's suggested theme is humour. Well, when someone says "Say something funny" that's it for me. I'm stumped. So, the best I can do (unless I just go and link to some of Billy Collins' clever, clever, and sometimes hilarious poems) is to dig out a poem that has a slightly offbeat metaphor in it anyway. This one hasn't been published elsewhere. It's sat for over a year now, and maybe it was due to see the light of day at this stage!


The Poemdog

Hangs around sniffing places
I wouldn’t think to check out;
puts a warm head into the cup of my hand,
looking for comfort, offering contact,

asking me to scratch behind its ears.
Shaking imaginary prey in a game,
my poemdog lollops from subject to subject,
won’t settle to serious business,

has never been trained to fetch and come back.
I want it to run through the long grasses,
scaring up images, making them rise,
but this undisciplined creature

leaves words uncollected, fallen amid rushes,
quivering ungathered among the reeds,
and me waiting for something to be laid at my feet,
for the poemdog to finally bring something home.


For other participants takes on the humourous, go HERE. Enjoy!