Famous Short Dog Poems. Short Dog Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Dog short poems
See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems
Visiting the graves,
the old dog
leads the way.
I am his Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
The old dog barks backwards without getting up.
I can remember when he was a pup.
Leg over leg,As the dog went to Dover;When he came to a stile,Jump, he went over.
Bow-wow-wow!Whose dog art thou?Little Tom Tinker's dog, Bow-wow-wow!
The truth I do not stretch or shove
When I state that the dog is full of love.
I've also found, by actual test,
A wet dog is the lovingest.
I walked abroad in Easter Park,
I heard the wild dog's distant bark,
I knew my Lord was risen again, -
Wild dog, wild dog, you bark in vain.
They have grafted pieces of an ape with a dog. . .
Then, what they have, wants to live in a tree.
No, it wants to lift its leg and piss on the tree. . .
There was an old man of Ancona,Who found a small dog with no owner,Which he took up and down all the streets of the town,That anxious old man of Ancona.
You say, as I have often given tongue
In praise of what another's said or sung,
'Twere politic to do the like by these;
But was there ever dog that praised his fleas?
High diddle doubt, my candle's out My little maid is not at home;Saddle my hog and bridle my dog, And fetch my little maid home.
Last night Magda dreamed that she,
you, Jack, and I were driving around
We parked in Florence and left
our dog to guard the car.
She was worried because he
doesn't understand Italian.
There they were
dog and bitch
halving the compass
Then when with his yip
oh how frolicsome
she grew before him
through the shrubbery
The dog has cleaned his bowl
and his reward is a biscuit,
which I put in his mouth
like a priest offering the host.
I can't bear that trusting face!
He asks for bread, expects
bread, and I in my power
might have given him a stone.
Why is there no monument
To Porridge in our land?
It it's good enough to eat,
It's good enough to stand!
On a plinth in London
A statue we should see
Of Porridge made in Scotland
Signed, "Oatmeal, O.B.E."
(By a young dog of three)
After you left me
I let a dog smell at
My chest and my belly. It will fill its nose
And set out to find you.
I hope it will tear the
Testicles of your lover and bite off his penis
Or at least
Will bring me your stockings between his teeth.
The rimer quenches his unheeded fires,
The sound surceases and the sense expires.
Then the domestic dog, to east and west,
Expounds the passions burning in his breast.
The rising moon o'er that enchanted land
Pauses to hear and yearns to understand.
The moon's a little prairie-dog.
He shivers through the night.
He sits upon his hill and cries
For fear that I will bite.
The sun's a broncho. He's afraid
Like every other thing,
And trembles, morning, noon and night,
Lest I should spring, and sting.
Ride away, ride away, Johnny shall ride,And he shall have pussy-cat Tied to one side;And he shall have little dog Tied to the other,And Johnny shall ride To see his grandmother.
OUR rides in all directions bend,
For business or for pleasure,
Yet yelpings on our steps attend,
And barkings without measure.
The dog that in our stable dwells,
After our heels is striding,
And all the while his noisy yells
But show that we are riding.
THERE are places I go when I am strong.
One is a marsh pool where I used to go
with a long-ear hound-dog.
One is a wild crabapple tree; I was there
a moonlight night with a girl.
The dog is gone; the girl is gone; I go to these
places when there is no other place to go.
Hey, diddle, diddle! The cat and the fiddle,The cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed To see such sport,And the dish ran away with the spoon.
IT’S a lean car … a long-legged dog of a car … a gray-ghost eagle car.
The feet of it eat the dirt of a road … the wings of it eat the hills.
Danny the driver dreams of it when he sees women in red skirts and red sox in his sleep.
It is in Danny’s life and runs in the blood of him … a lean gray-ghost car.
Amongst bubbling streams
a dog barks; peach blossom
is heavy with dew; here
and there a deer can
be seen in forest glades!
No sound of the mid-day
bell enters this fastness
where blue mist rises
from bamboo groves;
down from a high peak
hangs a waterfall;
non knows where he has gone, so sadly I rest,
with my back leaning
against a pine.
Pussy-cat sits by the fire; How can she be fair?In walks the little dog; Says: "Pussy, are you there?How do you do, Mistress Pussy? Mistress Pussy, how d'ye do?""I thank you kindly, little dog, I fare as well as you!"