You’re a poet, You didn’t know it…

My dad’s pithy sayings, jokes, puns, etc. were by and large, cringe-worthy. I’m sure this little ditty is familiar to those of us growing up in a certain era  (I won’t get specific).
​
            You’re a poet
            You didn’t know it      
            But your feet show it
            They’re Longfellows
 
I know, I know.

A few years ago I took a break from writing short stories and beginnings of novels to writing poetry. My poems are all free verse; no rhyme, rhythm, but a few poetic devices thrown in here and there. In other words, no Emily Dickinson.

 I decided to write and compile a book of poems; user-friendly poems that people could understand without a PhD in English literature and poetry. A local graphics company printed the books, and I used them as gifts for family and friends.

​The Car Ride was written to honor our dog, Ian, a beautiful Sheltie who passed away about eight years ago. I know many of you can relate to these words.
 
       The Car Ride
Days creep by, denial
No longer an option.
The dreaded car ride
A sorrowful ride indeed.
 
Silence fills the car
Words lie buried, not needed.
People driving here and there
Unaffected by our grief,
 
Thank you my friend for never-
Ending devotion. In seasons of
Darkness we were a team --
Two against the world.
 
My thoughts float across the sea to
Your land of origin — I see
You bounding o’er the Highland fields,
Past grazing sheep in the meadow
 
You frolic over heather-dotted hillsides,
Ever young, ever joyful as I stroke
Your tan and sable coat of silk, and
Whisper, ‘fare thee well my bonnie prince,
          so soft shall ye sleep.’