Animal Poems

Dot Spotted by Michael R. Burch There once was a leopardess, Dot, who indignantly answered: "I’ll not! The gents are impressed with the way that I’m dressed. I wouldn’t change even one spot." Stage Craft-y by Michael R. Burch There once was a dromedary who befriended a crafty canary. Budgie said, "You can’t sing, but now, here’s the thing— just think of the tunes you can carry!" Clyde Lied! by Michael R. Burch There once was a mockingbird, Clyde, who bragged of his prowess, but lied. To his new wife he sighed, "When again, gentle bride?" "Nevermore!" bright-eyed Raven replied. Generation Gap by Michael R. Burch A quahog clam, age 405, said, “Hey, it’s great to be alive!” I disagreed, not feeling nifty, babe though I am, just pushing fifty. Lance-Lot by Michael R. Burch Preposterous bird! Inelegant! Absurd! Until the great & mighty heron brandishes his fearsome sword. Where Does the Butterfly Go? by Michael R. Burch Where does the butterfly go when lightning rails, when thunder howls, when hailstones scream, when winter scowls, when nights compound dark frosts with snow ... Where does the butterfly go? Where does the rose hide its bloom when night descends oblique and chill beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill? When the only relief's a banked fire's glow, where does the butterfly go? And where shall the spirit flee when life is harsh, too harsh to face, and hope is lost without a trace? Oh, when the light of life runs low, where does the butterfly go? Happily Never After by Michael R. Burch He did not think of love of Her at all frog-plangent nights, as moons engoldened roads through crumbling stonewalled provinces, where toads (nee princes) ruled in chinks and grew so small at last to be invisible. He smiled (the fables erred so curiously), and thought bemusedly of being reconciled to human flesh, because his heart was not incapable of love, but, being cursed a second time, could only love a toad’s... and listened as inflated frogs rehearsed cheekbulging tales of anguish from green moats... and thought of her soft croak, her skin fine-warted, his anemic flesh, and how true love was thwarted. Huntress by Michael R. Burch Lynx-eyed, cat-like and cruel, you creep across a crevice dropping deep into a dark and doomed domain. Your claws are sheathed. You smile, insane. Rain falls upon your path, and pain pours down. Your paws are pierced. You pause and heed the oft-lamented laws which bid you not begin again till night returns. You wail like wind, the sighing of a soul for sin, and give up hunting for a heart. Till sunset falls again, depart, though hate and hunger urge you—"On!" Heed, hearts, your hope—the break of dawn. Dog Daze by Michael R. Burch Sweet Oz is a soulful snuggler; he really is one of the best. Sometimes in bed he snuggles my head, though he mostly just plops on my chest. I think Oz was made to love from the first ray of light to the dark, but his great love for me is exceeded (oh gee!) by his Truly Great Passion: to Bark. Epitaph for a Lambkin by Michael R. Burch Now that Melody has been laid to rest Angels will know what it means to be blessed. Wickett by Michael R. Burch Wickett, sweet Ewok, Wickett, old Soul, Wicket, brave Warrior, though no longer whole... You gave us your All. You gave us your Best. You taught us to Love, like all of the Blessed Angels and Saints of good human stock. You barked the Great Bark. You walked the True Walk. Now Wickett, dear Child and incorrigible Duffer, we commend you to God that you no longer suffer. May you dash through the Stars like the Wickett of old and never feel hunger and never know cold and be reunited with all our Good Tribe— with Harmony and Paw-Paw and Mary beside. Go now with our Love as the great Choir sings that Wickett, our Wickett, has at last earned his Wings! The Resting Place by Michael R. Burch for Harmony Sleep, then, child; you were dearly loved. Sleep, and remember her well-loved face, strong arms that would lift you, soft hands that would move with love’s infinite grace, such tender caresses! * When autumn came early, you could not stay. Now, wherever you wander, the wildflowers bloom and love is eternal. Her heart’s great room is your resting place. * Await by the door her remembered step, her arms’ warm embraces, that gathered you in. Sleep, child, and remember. Love need not regret its moment of weakness, for that is its strength, And when you awaken, she will be there, smiling, at the Rainbow Bridge. The Ballad of Beth and her Fur Babies by Michael R. Burch When Beth and her babies prepare for “good night” sweet rituals of kisses and cuddles commence. First Wickett, the eldest, whose mane has grown light with the wisdom of age and advanced senescence is tucked in “just right.” Then Mary, the mother, is smothered with kisses in a way that befits such an angelic missus. Then Melody, lambkin, and sweet, soulful Oz and cute, clever Xander all clap their clipped paws and follow sweet Beth to their high nightly roost where they’ll sleep on her head (or, perhaps, her caboose). Lady’s Favor: the Noble Ballad of Sir Dog and the Butterfly by Michael R. Burch Sir was such a gallant man! When he saw his Lady cry and beg him to send her a Butterfly, what else could he do, but comply? From heaven, he found a Monarch regal and able to defy north winds and a chilly sky; now Sir has his wings and can fly! Solo’s Watch by Michael R. Burch Solo was a stray who found a safe place to stay with a warm and loving band, safe at last from whatever cruel hand made him flinch in his dreams. Now he wanders the clear-running streams that converge at the Rainbow’s End and the Bridge where kind Angels attend to all souls who are ready to ascend. And always he looks for those who hugged him and held him close, who kissed him and called him dear and gave him a home free of fear, to welcome them to his home, here.