Peppermint Patti
By Peppermint Patti
JOTR Columnist
I pray that the Great Dog in the Sky will spare me, Sophie, from two-leggers who think they are poets.
My male biped suffers from this affliction.
Creative he is not, but thinks he is.
It is something, Sophie, to suffer through one of his recitals.
You want a translation?
Be aware: Two-legger talk is what they call “gutter-all,” meaning it is low-down and full of weird sounds. It does not convert well to honest woofs, barks and whines.
But I’ll give you the gist of it.
You tell me if this is poetry:
Her name is Patti the Dog.
Her name is Patti the Dog.
Her name is Patti,
Her name is Patti,
Her name is Patti the Dog.
She’s the best of all dogs,
The best of all dogs,
The best of all possible dogs.
What do you think, Sophie?
Poetry?
Don’t have an opinion?
I forgot — you’re a Black Lab.
Okay, I’ll do your thinking for you.
Wait! Ahhhh!
A fly, Sophie.
Very tasty.
There is a word for this kind of composition.
It is not poetry, in my dog’s opinion.
It sort of has meter.
Meter does not a poem make.
Rhyme? Only from repeating syllables.
That is false rhyme.
It makes fake poetry.
What is the word we’re looking for, Sophie?
It is so close, so close, you may not see it.
Have you ever been in a doghouse, Sophie?
Warm, getting warmer.
Yes! You hit it?
Not poetry, my dear two-legged owner.
You’re in a league with us puppies.
Not poetry but doggone it, he has composed —
Doggerel!
