Puppy Love

April 22, Napowrimo 2026. Jaswinder Bolina’s poem “Mood Ring” imagines the speaker as both himself and an interior being. It’s quite silly . . . and not silly at the same time. A sort of “serious fun.” Today, we’re challenge to write our own poem in which the speaker is in dialogue with themselves.

This is about the third invitation to engage in solipsism (no bad thing for a poetry workout) so I wanted to step away from the dark side and pick up the “silly….not so silly” gauntlet the prompt threw down.

Not all dialogues use words, just as many conversations are unspoken but heard plainly. Poetry is as much about the image as it is the word, so my character speaks no words but paints sentences.

Mostly, in a quiet corner,
Somewhere hidden from her wracked
Eyes, ears, mind and heart;
A puppy sleeps.

He sleeps a lot.
He sleeps a lot because he needs to.
He sleeps a lot because he needs and has to.

Mostly, in soft silk shadows,
Somewhere he snoozes gently,
Ignoring the wicked foul winds
Beyond the kennel’s skin.

Outside is vile.
Outside is vile and ugly.
Outside is vile and ugly and crass.

Mostly, in quiet moments,
Somewhere by a field,
Wood, moor or mere,
He snuffles reassuringly.

He won’t whine,
He won’t whimper,
He won’t wallow or whimper or whine.

He will take flight by growing wings
At the sight or the sound of
A joy that sings.
At the flash of a bright soul flying by,
At the witness of a feathered kiss,
Or a choral song-filled sky.

He’ll transform into Tigger
On an airless moon,
And become bigger
Than a monstrous mountainous monsoon,
As he dances in the rain,
Of that moment.

Mostly, in quiet places,
The puppy sleeps.

He has to.

She needs him to.

---