Clarihew Poem--Bitsy the Boy--National Poetry Month

This is a Clarihew Poem. Don't ask me how Mr. Clerihew rates a poem style, but Stephanie will probably know and tell you here. Anywho, that's what I'm writing today, if I can keep my eyeballs open. They're not hilariously funny, but what can you expect from 2 1/2 hours of sleep? In between stanzas, I'm playing my bodrhan (Irish drum).

BITSY THE BOY

Bitsy the Boy works hard when he works
But when he's not working, he dawdles and shirks
Perhaps if I gave him something better to do
He might not detest going after dog poo.

I took Bitsy Boy to the Oinks place to eat.

I mean how can you go wrong with bacon for meat?

But when he came out with two bags full of food

We found out you pay through the nose for what's good.

Bitsy the Boy is not very small.

And since he graduated he's gotten quite tall

I feared we would soon have to roll him to bed

If he sat there for too long he'd prolly be dead

 

 But then Bitsy Boy got a really nice job

Lugging fertilizer and cement for ten bob

So it looks like he can't get away from the poo

Whether it be from a bark, or a cluck, or a moo.

© 2017 BY H. LINN MURPHY

To the Dogs--Clarihew Poems

Today it's a Clerihew poem or two.

PICKY, PERSNICKETY, AND PRIVATE

Clovis drives me half insane 

Sometimes he's quite a little pain

He never eats all of his food

I think his stomach must be wood

Jinky has his life planned out 

If I offer advice he pops a pout

But when it comes time for a ride

He's right there at my freaking side

Bingo has a voice like gold

She always sings in the shower bold

But when it comes to an audience

She keeps us forever in suspense

© 2016 by H. Linn Murphy

You may not know what a Clerihew poem is. This'll explain it. How about one of your own now?`

Baby Ben the Ten

On this tenth day of April, I'm doing a Clarihew poem.
This is an AABB poem of four lines about a person.
Here goes my stab at it:

Baby Ben the Ten

Let's talk about Baby Ben
He's the cutest morsel in ten
He cuddles up on my chest
I love Baby Ben the best

When each of the others were small
I adored them best of all   
But now it's Benjamin's turn
The moniker's taxing to earn

The softest most rosy is Ben
With furry soft arms and chin
I love when he looks to the skies
It's Eternity there in his eyes


(I'd have a picture but I don't want to splash his face on the net.)
© 2015 by H. Linn Murphy

You can find out more about Clarihew poems here.