Old Dog’s and New Tricks

From the first days that I started to write poetry, I found myself set to experiment on how I wriote poetry and even certain styles and patterns. Once I returned to education in the 1990’s I found myself influenced more so by certain poets and inspired in other ways by John Donne (1572 – 1631 ) . This had me striving to compose my poetry within a format that came from such a great poet as Donne. But still I found myself experimenting on occasions on my writings.

Todays poem is one such poem that has an experiment of sorts. I set to compose tis poem as per usual, BUT added an extra system as it were, by taking the last word in each stanza and use it to begin the next stanza. BUT forme it provided a little extra work to make it fit the poem. and I will admit it is something I don’t know if I could do it every time. I would be interested in hearing feedback from others on this little experiment.

The poem itself speaks of a love that is love since gone and lost, BUT one party strived to catch a glimpse of their love as they pass by etc. In many ways it became almost a stalker type situation. (FOR obvious reasons I will state that this is a totally made up senario. It ended up with the love who longed for their love accepts the fate and returns a few years later to end the poem.

That is one such way that readers could take it, another way is from the way or view of a christian believer who falls away or drifts away due to desires to wander etc. I hope that folks understand where this poems comes from and aims to. Mainly stating this poem is pretty much an experiment that which I tried to keep a certain lfow on it whilst keeping with the aded system I played with on this poem. I do hope that you enjoy this read.

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Old Dog’s and New Tricks


Have you heard the dawn chorus sing
 Or caught the wind bring something,
Which in a new way lights up each day,
And sing of their love for whom they say. 


Say the words many longed to hear,
Lost longing for your voice to cheer,
Or guide this aching heart to your side,
To rest and walk with beside with pride.


Pride recalls words I say depend on your love,
In this jungle here I weep or look above,
To find the path to your door once more,
‘Tis no chore to be still or knock at your door.


Door long shut to sweet desire now lost,
My crawling does not fit to thaw the frost.
I govern my thoughts to where you stepped,
Where once I quietly crept and hope you accept.


Accept the cost some say and keep no score,
 Years now passed and here stepped I once more,
Keeping score of those now sore deeds hatch,
Old dogs and new tricks befits my tale, a match. 





©  Pat Fitzgerald 2022

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