What's the worst poem you ever wrote? Here's my candidate. Can anybody top it?
Fido
He lay beside his master's feet, the picture of devotion,
Forever faithful, conscious of his place;
Recognizing every mood, he shared the man's emotions,
And licked the salty tears from off his face.
He waited on the step outside and kept the day's long vigil.
Through rain or snow or melting sun he sat,
To look on that beloved face, and wag his tail and wriggle
For one kind word or absent-minded pat.
There might be days on end when Fido didn't see his master,
But day and night he waited, standing guard.
There might be days when he would wait with neither food nor water,
The man's approaching footstep his reward.
And when there was no food to eat and both of them were hungry,
The dog went out and brought a rabbit home.
His master cooked it in the pot with garlic, salt, and onion,
And ate the meat and threw the dog a bone.
Sometimes against the chill of night, or being sick or lonely,
The master reached to take him in his arms.
He curled beside the man to lend the comfort of his body.
And asked no more than just to keep him warm.
And other times, from temper, taking out his own frustration,
The man would slap or kick him with his boot,
Or send him out into the cold in anger and impatience,
And yell at him for being underfoot.
So Fido lay upon the step, big brown eyes hurt and grieving,
For love withheld; not knowing how or when,
But hoping, longing, needing, although never quite believing
That happiness and trust would come again.
At last there came the day when all he had to give was given,
And in his wounded heart love merged with hate.
And 'though he had no place to go or will to keep on living,
He bit his master's hand, and ran away.
Carol Taylor
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