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Sad Dog Poems | Sad Poems About Dog

These Sad Dog poems are examples of Sad poems about Dog. These are the best examples of Sad Dog poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Verse | |

Companion

The old man sits in his chair by the door
His dog lies beside him curled up on the floor
Ever since that day when the man lost his wife
that dog had, to him, been the whole of his life

With his constant companion through all those long days
he'd sit in the sun enjoying its rays
It seemed like for hours the old man had dozed
A faint smile on his face and his eyes tightly closed

The dog licks his hand and emits a faint whine
and looks up at his face as if for a sign
but the man doesn't move, just continues to smile
so the dog lays back down on the floor for a while

The dog gets its ball, lays it down at his feet
but the man takes no notice, just stays still in his seat
He nudges the ball as if he were saying
"What's wrong with you, why aren't you playing"

Then, as if in acceptance, the dog quietly sighs
and looks up one last time with adoring eyes
The dog keeps his vigil through the night 'til next day
ever since, that sad morning, when the man passed away 


Details | Lyric | |

Touch Cindy

On Friday nights a melting pot,
descends upon the pub,
truck drivers, cockies, factory hands,
and workers from the scrub,
to mingle in the many shouts,
that see their glasses fill,
who leave before they’re entertained,
by workers from the mill.

The timber boys with blackened hands,
and sawdust through their hair,
throw their cheques upon the bar,
then drink without a care,
not one of them was impolite,
the opposite in fact,
but beer became their nemesis,
and quick they would react.

So, many leave the pub at night,
with blood upon their face,
while they who nurse a swollen hand,
rest at the coppers place,
‘mine host’ is left with his regrets,
knows what he’d like to do,
he’d like to ban the lot of them,
but they spend money too.

As one drifts on another comes,
to pull out from the saw,
the circuit is a common one,
for those who work and war,
this Friday night’s a first time here,
for one who’s name is Bob,
he’d like to celebrate with us,
his first week on the job.

“Whose is the dog outside?” was heard,
Bob quickly turned his head,
“It’s mine, the only friend I’ve got,
touch Cindy and you’re dead”,
there came no argument at all,
for the night was early yet,
but I thought it best I get on home,
before the ‘hour of regret’. 

Touch Cindy, touch Cindy,
touch Cindy and you’re dead.
Touch Cindy, touch Cindy,
keeps running through my head.

It was dark and after midnight,
when I heard the siren wail,
‘Hello,’ I thought, ‘It’s on again,
who’s ‘gunna’ need some bail’,
but then a sense of distance came,
they stopped out near the hill,
not the expectation of the pub,
more likely at the mill.

I saw a glow behind the blinds,
of course there was a fire,
then more sirens stirred the air,
there must be something dire,
I’m out of bed; back in my clothes,
and driving to the mill,
there’s lights of blue and lights of red,
plus further sirens still.

A pile of ash in smoke and steam,
is all that’s left to see,
with haggard faces looking on,
one cried hysterically,
she’s a witness to the scene,
when the caravan caught fire,
‘twas then I heard that it was Bob,
who perished in that pyre.

“He was safe,” she’s screaming out,
“Then frantically he cried,
as he rushed back into the van,
‘my mates back there inside!’
with his hand clasped to the collar...
I remember what Bob said,
when he warned us at the pub,
‘Touch Cindy and you’re dead’.

Touch Cindy, touch Cindy,
keeps running through my head.


Details | Tanka | |

Sammy

everyone said he was too small for a good watch dog.... why did he leave such a big hole in our hearts?
.................................... 3/24/15 For Andrea's Contest: Tanka 3 Return To Top Ten


Details | Rhyme | |

My Furry Friend

I had a friend  he loved to nap
Usually on my bed, sometimes on my lap

He was so smart I tell you that
He didn't mind, even my neighbor cat

His fur was brown, had very cute nose
He loved taking pictures he loved to pose

I loved him so much he had a good life
And than he got sick he couldn’t survive

Some time ago on the very cold day
It was last time for us to go out and play

I didn’t know how hard this will be
To say goodbye to Mitten for my boys and me
 
My heart was broken when I looked in his eyes
But I knew God will take him to his paradise

And than when he took his very last breath 
I couldn’t stop crying because I knew he was death

I miss him so much each and every day
I wish he didn’t die I wish he could stay

He was my friend best friend of all
I loved him a lot with my heart and soul

His name was Mitten I know he runs free
And plays with the angels 
                       And his waiting for me


Mitten was our family dog for 17 years, the cancer took him away on, Feb 7 2012
We all miss him a lot..:(


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Filbert Gets His Wish

Filbert Crumb..... Gets His Wish!

A sad little man was Filbert Crumb....as he sat on the bus. "
Another lonelyday"  He thought to himself.  
Looking up, Filbert saw a little dog.  
Neatly tucked  into a little girls backpack.  
Its' head was peaking out 
and smiled at Filbert.
 
"See, even a dog has a better life than me"...
"I wish I was that little dog".  
Filbert reached out to pet the pooch 
in the backpack 
and was surprised when the little dog 
happily licked at his fingers.

“Hi there little doggie, How are you?”  
And then the strangest thing happened.  
The little dog replied back!

“I am wonderful..”  
“Did you just speak to me?” 
whispered Filbert to the  little dog.


“Yep...Yep...Yep...I did!” said the little dog.  
“But how is that possible?” asked Filbert. 
“I really don't know, I am just as surprised as you are.” said the little dog. 
“Are you happy being a little dog?” asked filbert.
“Oh yes, it's wonderful.  I have a nice home, good food 
and toys to play with”.

“I wish I were a dog.” 
“Oh, you can be.  
It's really very simple to do.”  
Said the little dog with a wink.....
“All you have to do is this....

“Jump Up and Down on just one leg...
and spin yourself a round....
around and round......
and spin yourself around”....
Sang the little dog.
.“Really! Is that all?”  said Sad Filbert.

Yep...Yep...Yep....said the little dog.


Details | Elegy | |

Old Brown Dog


...for Ralph McTell


He was my closest friend and confidante
for over eighteen years.
I called him simply Brown Dog.
From a puppy to the present
he was always by my side.
Chasing rabbits through the pasture
or the sticks that I would throw,
he was the essence of vitality and joy.
As he aged, he would lie down at my feet,
an Old Brown Dog, his horizon now my yard, 
limping, riddled with arthritis, he was clearly in great pain.
Today would be the day. 

With a heavy heart, my shotgun cradled 
in my arm, I tugged gently on his leash
and we headed to the pasture where
in better days he frolicked, free as a bird.
The sky was overcast as I settled him to ground. 
"Goodbye, my friend," I whispered, as I went
to pull the trigger. But then suddenly a flash
of fur! a rabbit dashed from hiding and darted
into view. My companion broke free! bounding 
t'ward his prey, his pain all but forgotten.
As he closed in, he took one final leap...
and fell in a heap to the earth, still and silent.

He had died the way he wanted, 
on his own terms, free again, at last.

I buried him there, and wept.

I returned to his grave 
with a granite headstone
which bore the inscription:

"To my Brown Dog, best friend and confidante,
thanks for the memories.
Rest In Peace.
1994-2011.


Details | Rhyme | |

My Buddy

I miss you already, Buddy.
You’ve been the apple of my eye.
When I think of life without you,
It makes me cry. It makes me cry.

Oh, so many moments we've shared together,
From romping mischief and tummy rubs to those pesky fleas;
And nothing’s better than my puppy’s kiss;
You always try your very best to please.

You always curl up with me on the bed.
You always meet me at the door.
You run and jump and bark with such excitement.
Yes, Buddy, I know you couldn’t love me more.

And when all others fail me, Buddy,
My best friend is always there.
Through my very worst of times,
Your eyes and your attention said,  “I care”.

Five to seven years for every one of mine
Is so little time... it’s hardly fair.
It must be God’s way of saying,
“Love them now… and well.  
There’s precious little time to spare”.

But, if I should go before you, Buddy,
Love your new master without reserve;
And they will love you as you love them. 
It’s what a great pup like you deserves.  

I miss you already, Buddy.
You’ve been the apple of my eye. 


Details | Narrative | |

Walter

He stood and aimlessly watched the parade of patrons and volunteers that wandered daily past his kennel.  All so familiar, so ordinary.  Just like every other day he mused.  Nothing new.  Nothing special.

Moving to the small crumpled blanket near the back of his cage, he turned several times and finally curled up, head on his paws, positioned so that he could watch the activity around him.  But in reality, he was bored.  It had been a long time since he had met each morning with anticipation.  Too many days.   Too much disappointment.  He would leave all that barking and racing to the front of  their cage to the younger pups who hadn’t figured out yet that the cute ones went first.  It didn’t really make any difference what you did to attract attention if you weren’t young or cute, or both.

Too much time had gone by to participate in the charade.  In reality, Walter had seen a lot of people that he would rather not spend a lot of time with.  You know the type.  Kind of hyper, bouncing from stray to stray, looking for a perfect dog.  Kids poking their fingers  through the kennel screen or banging on it.  Some even making barking sounds.  He didn’t need any of that and was glad when they were gone.

Walter was very picky.  Set in his ways after so many years.  He had had it good for  a long time.  An only dog in a household of two people that let him be himself.  No tricks. No stunts.  Just long naps and daily walks.  A yard to himself to reflect on what was for dinner.  He had been fond of his doggy bed in their bedroom.  Each night he would help his owner walk through the house turning off the lights and checking the doors before they climbed the stairs together.  And there was always one last good night pat before settling down.

But those days were gone now.  First one had become ill and went to the hospital and never came back.  The other one changed overnight, spending long days, sitting mostly.  The walks became less frequent.  Walter did what he could.   He could see it in their eyes that they were hurting from their loss. He would make a point of laying his head in their lap, trying to let them know that he missed them too.  At times like this, he instinctively knew that although it remained unsaid, they only had each other.

He remembers well the day that his owner snapped a leash on him and said, “well Walter, I’m afraid we have to say goodbye.  I have to go to a place where they won’t let me keep you, so I am going to have to let you go.”  Walter could see the tears in his eyes.  He knew it would do him no good to whine or resist.  It was obvious there were no alternatives.  And besides, it would just make it harder on his owner.  But he was going to miss him.  It was not going to be easy to adjust.

But adjust he did.   He had been here a long time now and had seen countless pups and dogs  trot past his cage with light hearts and  new owners, heading off with new found hopes and expectations.  But it soon became obvious that there weren’t a lot of people that wanted an old yellow hound.  Everyone wanted the young ones.  So here he lay, dozing a bit, but still keeping an eye on those walking by, many giving him but a glance before moving on.

He heard them before the saw them.  ”Honey” the voice said.  ”That looks like Walter, old Mr. Whitney’s dog.”  Walters ears perked up a little.  ”Do I know them” he thought.  ”They seem to know me”.  I’d better go take a closer look” and with that, he stood and slowly ambled toward his kennel gate, giving a cautious wag of his tail.

“It is him” the man said.  ”Walter, how you doing boy?  Do you remember me?”

And upon closer inspection, Walter did remember him.  He used to live right across the street.  He would see him in his yard and if Walter were to ramble over, he usually had a dog treat in his pocket.  With the recognition, Walter gave a little stronger wag and moved toward the fingers extended through the fencing.  It was good to see an old friend.

“What do you say hon” the man said.  ”How would you feel about bringing Walter home with us?”

Walter looked at the woman and saw her nod in agreement.  ”You wait here and I’ll go find a volunteer.”

The man bent down and said “What do you think Walter?  Would you like to go home with us?”

Actually, Walter decided, he could think of nothing he would like more.  A chance to go back to the old neighborhood with people he already knew.  What was there not to like.

Soon the woman returned and the gate opened.  A leash was snapped on Walter and together they proceeded past the rows of dogs and puppies, all vying for their attention.  Walter couldn't help but stand a little straighter, stepping a little more lightly, showing off.  ”This is what going home looks like guys.” he thought.  ”Good luck and goodbye”.

As they neared the car the man said “I can’t believe we found you Walter.  There is someone I am going to take you to see.  I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when you walk in his room>”

Walter, of course, knew exactly who he was talking about.  And he couldn't wait to see the expression on his face either.


Details | Rhyme | |

Homeless Man and His Dog

throw him a nickle

maybe a dime

tell yourself he'll be fine


careful not to look into his eyes

he has feelings

an inconvenient surprise


by his side his loyal companion

a little dog he cannot abandon


throw them a nickle

maybe a dime

tell yourself they'll be just fine


you come home

turn on the light

surely they'll find shelter from the night


you take a shower 

and go to bed

but thoughts of them fill your head


so in your car you go to find

the sad little pair you left behind


Details | Rhyme | |

Circle of Life - A Pet Story

It seems like just the other day
Our pup, Shadrack, did pass away;
And altho’ they never seemed like friends,
My old cat, Jorg, knew Shad had met
   his untimely end.

He mourned his loss every day
And looked for Shadrack everywhere.
He’d mew and moan as if to say,
“We were friends.  I do care.”

Then one night, an eerie howl
Awoke me from my sleep.
He’d found Shad’s toys and left no doubt
That his feelings did run deep.

So our tedious search began
To find another likely pup;
But while my poor wife still grieved,
Could another measure up?


We went to Second Chance and Free to Live.
She just could not make up her mind.
She loved them all; but, if she picked just one,
The rest would have to stay behind.

Then, quite by chance, there was a “pound pup”
Who’d been picked up from the streets.
He was a mutt, a “schnauza-pug”;
But he was awfully sweet.

He jumped up and kissed her frantically.
He seemed aware of his “iffy” situation.
He made the best of his opportunity.
Tears of joy told her elation.

“This is the one”, she smiled through tears,
As she held him oh, so tight.
“I’m sure that Jorg will like him too.
Everything will be alright”.

And so it was, until one day
When old Jorg did pass away…

There was no hesitation on this sad occasion;
Come Saturday morning, we went straight 
   to the pound,
Open minded and hoping to be “saviors”,
Surely a nice cat was to be found.

“Sadly”, the lady said,” three kitties have only today.
There’s Andre and Panda and another one too”.
My wife smiled and said, “Jorg was your boy.  You pick.
They’re both beautiful cats.  It’s up to you”.

As I pondered this commitment
Another cat, a young one, caught my eye.
Like Jorg, he was a common gray tabby.
Fond memories were stirred.  I almost cried.

On closer look, his name was Boris;
And, strangely, he was number three.
There was a small sign on his crate,
“I don’t like other cats and other cats don’t like me”.

But there was character in his eyes and he was cute.
He was rolling and purring and stretching.
He seemed to look deep into my heart
And did his best to be quite fetching.

But because he was just a common gray tabby,
And because of the little sign,
His chances were slim, his future quite dim
And one day is precious little time.

For a moment I was lost in his eyes
And I heard his desperate plea, 
“I’m a swell cat and litter box trained.
Take me.  Please, take me”.

“Well”, my wife urged, “is it Andre or Panda”?
“One of us will take the other kitty.”, two older ladies chimed.
“You can each have one ladies”, I said with a smile.
I want Boris and he wants to be mine”.

In just hours he was romping and rolling with Pepper,
Who had happily welcomed his new friend.
Boris was a perfect fit, an affirmation;
The Circle of Life never ends.

Much more Joy than Sadness in this Circle,
And there should never be regrets.
Honor their memories and all the love they share,
Never break the Circle, never be without a Pet.


Details | Rhyme | |

What did I do wrong -sad contest

I wander the streets looking for scraps
Haven't been fed for a month or more
My bones show through, too weak to walk
What did I do wrong what was the score

People tried to catch me in the earlier days
Didn't trust anyone after the beatings I had known
Thrown from a car, to make my own way
Said I was too expensive for them too own

As I lay under a bench in the park
Heard someone approach, too weak to hide
Next gentle hands lifted me up into a van
Wrapped in blankets kept warm inside

Took me to the animal hospital where people cried
When they saw my bones and my weak state
Put me on a drip to feed me slowly, instead
of giving me a meal which would have sealed my fate

Am a big dog now healthy, happy and fun
Going to a new home, with a lovely new mum
2 children to play with, a boss for walks
Life from now on will be great, with a full tum.



Details | Narrative | |

Old Dog

Fourteen came and went that year and as his light grew dim;
I thought of time so swiftly passed since life gave breath to him.
I stroked him and I held him near, remembering moments flown;
The sunny day, late in spring, when first I brought him home.

This tale not told of canine nerve or valor laced with fame,
Instead the story of two friends and what their lives became.
A story of long years attending one another’s cause,
Baths and brushes, meals and play, wet fur and muddy paws.

A young dog then, almost a pup: all full of fun and play.
Embedded in my heart so deep; I hoped he'd always stay.
Each early morn we'd walk our walk to tend the needs of day, 
Before I earned our daily bread, those many miles away.

And every time I left my home, the last that I would see,
A faithful face in window space: waiting there for me.
Still sitting there in patient pose at time of each day’s end.
The little dog back in his place; my loyal, canine friend.

After dinner we would take our evening walk for two:
Companions seeing seasons pass, as time so quickly flew.
Then I retired from my work, now with him every day.
Our walks grew few and shorter, with less, much gentler play.

Soft brown eyes at one time bright, grew milky with his failing sight.
Ears still perked for every sound, began to let the old dog down.
Then came the day his body said his spirit should be free: 
Allowed to soar to lofty heights, while I must stay and grieve.

With all the love and courage, the good Lord could provide;
I stood and held my dear old friend: I wept and then he died.
I sit, reflect, relive our time; I was his joy and he was mine.
And with all this, these thoughts old friend; I'll tell you now,
as I told you then . . .

On down the road and around a bend, where there's no painful, 
certain end; God's will, we'll do it all again!


© 2015 Diane Lefebvre


Details | Rhyme | |

Forgot

                

The old shepherd standing there seeing better days . Growing old and feeble , his eyesight now a haze . The cold floor that he laid upon , did more harm than good . They gave him one more pat , they'd kept him if they could .

The little girl excited , this , what she'd waited for . The puppy she'd been waiting on , just beyond those doors . 
Puppies of all sizes , shapes and colors too . Short hair , long hair she'd have to sort them thru .

Waiting at the last door , he was next to go . This would be his last chance although he didn't know . 
Hearing the little girl , reminded of his home . Where fields went on forever , plenty of room to run and roam . 

No longer familiar , the place he like the best . The sun filled porch or shaded trees where he always laid to rest .  The drive they walked down everyday, to go and check the mail . The good-boy pats , on his head , that made him wag his tail .

We'll never no if he got picked, chances , he did not . He stayed there his remaining days unloved , left and forgot. 



Details | Free verse | |

a dog with out a name

It rained again last night, as he woke up from the muddy dirt
he always sleep in.
As he stretches out as far as he can, ouch he said my body hurts
me so very bad again.
The bowl for food and water remain empty, and the grassy areas 
are so far away.
No home anymore the home I once had seems so far away it makes
me so, so sad.
I am hurting so bad I just want to stay in today so no one will be
mean to me.
I search the trash cans, dumpsters all around this town when people
see me they say ‘get out of here’.
I runaway as fast as I can while I lay down to rest my body, legs and
paws the food was thrown out.
my belly is groaning, I am so thirsty,  can’t remember the last time
I had ate any real food, all I eat is stick, twigs and grass.
Lonely as much as a dog can be, not one person reaches their hand out
 to me.
Night time came and he settles in for another lonely sleepless night.
Now all that remains is a small grave with the words that someone had
written, here lays a ‘dog with out a name’.
It's sad it was to late for this dog I now named 'Jake' no more pain,
hunger or thirst for him.
Rest in peace my Jake and we will meet you someday again.


Details | I do not know? | |

New York Rodeo

No 8 second ride for these cowboys tonight
As they start in the morning, losing daylight
Their hats are now ties, tethering true
Not breathing in clean air as faces turn blue

Their motive, the green, but not of a pasture
Not men of free will, but now slaves to a master
When the bell rings, it’s chaos, not for a meal
It’s a dog eat dog city, with true faces concealed

They’re just…

Cardboard cowboys in a concrete canyon
Riding steel horses, reigning in their abandon
Letting loose bridles, for no horses they ride
Spending their days, cooped up, deep inside

It’s a sad way
And a sad day
For New York cowboys

Their fishing hole yonder’s now polluted with clutter
As their southern boy drawl’s replaced with a stutter
No chaps and no stirrups, no boots and no jeans
Their lives are now over, at the end of their means

The bull that they ride are the very stories they tell
From wall to wall bouncing, not sitting a spell
They are always in a hurry, no time for the rose
Not much of a cowboy or anything, I s’pose


They’re just…

Cardboard cowboys in a concrete canyon
Riding steel horses, reigning in their abandon
Letting loose bridles, for no horses they ride
Spending their days, cooped up, deep inside

It’s a sad way
And a sad day
For New York cowboys


Details | Epic | |

Lampo the Traveling Dog

Lampo

At the train station in Campiglia
Within sight of Elba Island
Stands the statue of a mongrel
A mix of a something Highland
The statue shows Lampo just sitting
His right paw aloft as if to shake
And facing the train tracks he watches
Just thinking which one he might take
Beloved by every railman
And those who rode Italy’s rail
Lampo the famed riding dog stands
And this is old Lampo’s sad tale
He came from the states in the 50s
To Italy so goes the tales
He lived a life that was quite different
The dog loved to just ride the rails
Now how he got left in Campiglia
The writer of this doesn’t know
The railmen there at the station
Simply let him come and go
Somehow he got to know schedules
Could tell a slow train from express 
He managed to go some place each day
But where it might be was a guess
He always made sure not to go far
And to catch an connector each day
That took him right back to Campiglia
And he never once lost his way
Lampo – which means flash of lightening
Made over three thousand trips
Each day with everyone watching
Into a train car he slips
A station master in Rome once
Called Campiglia to see if he
Should put Lampo on the right train back
But Campiglia said let him be
So Lampo sat watching the trains run
Picked one and climbed on aboard
That evening he’s back in Campiglia
His reputation then simply soared
After that there was no stopping
This traveling dog or his fame
And tied to his collar were train stubs
Of all of the train station names
And you know this dog was quite friendly
And always knew which cars were best
To get a bite or to get petted
Or simply to just take a rest
Only once in eight years did he slip up
Asleep he just missed his last stop
But back tracking he finally got home
As train upon train he did hop
This feat said those local railmen
Could only be done by a man
Who had held a printed timetable
Of those trains right there in his hand
Ironically the four-legged hitchhiker
Died under the wheels of a freight
The kind of train he had avoided
As if maybe knowing his fate
It happened right there in Campiglia
The old dog had been feeling ill
He needed a boost from a trainman
He wanted to ride the train still
Nobody saw the dog jump off
As onto the train track he lay
But after the train left the station
Poor Lampo had just passed away
He stands guard now there in Campiglia
Silently watching the trains
The poor dog has not been forgotten
For always his memory remains.


Details | Free verse | |

Sam The Rescue Dog

My name is Sam I am wondering what it is I’m doing wrong?
It’s raining cold, wet, dark and I am chained here all alone.
I have been to many homes before but I thought this was my last.
Once this family wanted me and told me they loved me so, I would
be theirs until we all grew old and gray.
Today they don’t come to see me or even shout out my name I am
just left here all alone attached to this old heavy chain.

People pass me by as they walk down the street, shouting ugly names
they throw stones that make me cry and bleed Why are they so mean?
They call every name they can that hurts my heart so bad, they think
because we’re animals we don’t feel a thing.
I am suppose to be brave, strong and fearless because I am a big old dog.
Today they don’t come to see me or even shout out my name I am
just left here all alone attached to this old heavy chain.


Details | Rhyme | |

I cant begin to tell you

I cant begin to tell you how much I miss my dog
I spend days reminiscing my mind is in a fog.
and though I know he was old and had to go away
I cant begin to tell you the role that he did play.
he played a part in everything that I did in my life
I cant begin to tell you how he lessened every strife.
I always hurried home to see him, I would hardly ever leave
to think I will never see him again I just can not conceive.
what will I do without him he brightened up bad days
he would wiggle and would make me laugh with his many playful ways.
he was more human than anyone I know and he loved me so much
he gave such love and loyalty I will miss his little touch.
So now I sit in sadness my eyes are filled with tears
I just cant seem to comprehend that he is no longer here.
I know they say time heals all wounds but how much time will that be?
you see I never had children and he was like one to me.
I cant begin to tell you the emptiness in my soul
for he was the one my precious dog, the one that made me whole.


Details | Rhyme | |

Alone

She walks her dog
In the morning hour,
She walks her dog
In the evening hour,
She walks her dog 
In sunshine and shower,
She walks her dog 
Down the lonely lane,
She walks her dog
Alone, again.

© Dave Timperley 2012


Details | Haiku | |

Little Dog Sleeps

in cool, green grass my little dog's at rest -- rain clouds remain in shades of pink the sunsets low -- I call her name fragrant sweet pea swaying in the spring breeze -- moonlit memories *for my little Sweet Pea, now chasing cats in Heaven (?1995 - March 13, 2012) She always kept us on our toes. The house is too quiet without her.


Details | Rhyme | |

Dog eared page

14th jan 2012 
By Sashi Prabhu (zeauoxian)

Silently laid my eyes, Upon tattered page piles, Littered outside, The garden far side I picked up a dog eared page, Brought back memories of the bygone age, Of the days of sitting together, In this garden, cuddling and smooching in cold weather. On such a glorious winter day, A long time ago, by the way, I scribbled on this page love notes, In double quotes. Nostalgic now are, Memories of “au revoir”, Melancholy tones fill in, My poignant heart to its brim. A wind now blows this dog eared page, And I dully chase it with some rage, To find it stuck to the old gum tree, And as I see the page I begin to read all about me…………….. Silently laid my eyes, Upon other tattered page piles, Littered outside, The garden far side……………………..


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

A Dog's Last Journey, Revised

Walking down the road, hungry and cold,
The dog whimpered, not knowing she was old,
Nor did she know that the man she loved,
Was trying to send her to Heaven above.

The old dog had cancer and her head would ache,
She shivered and found it was hard to stay awake,
She lay down at last, still fighting the pain
And thought of the warm house as it started to rain.

The dog had been true and had loved the man
who knew his dog was worth more than His plans,
He turned and drove back to help his old friend,
And found her fighting the pain right up to the end.

He picked up his dog and stroked the gray head,
Then drove the dog home and placed her in bed,
Turned on soft music and gazed long at his pet,
Then with hot tears of sorrow, took her to the vet.

He held his friend tightly as the vet gave the last shot,
The dog licked her friend's hand as Her world became dark.


Details | I do not know? | |

Like

I feel like a dog chasing his tail
Like I’m sailing on a sea in a stormy gale
Like a seashell lost in a hurricane
I have nobody but myself to blame

Like I’m road kill swollen up in the sun
Like my life has all came undone
Like I’m an old bone on which the dog likes to chew
To the end of my rope what else is to do

Like an egg dropped off a ten foot wall
Like I’m running when I’m trying to fall
There is nowhere else left to go
Like being tossed to and fro

Like away from the world I want to be hid
I feel bad about what I went and did
Like I want to bid everyone good bye
I want to smile, but I just cry

Like a tornado twists about a tree
That’s the way my life will be
Just like a bear that wants to be fed
And like a traveler that hasn’t a bed 

My flight is hard and my journey’s long
Melancholy is my song
Like a grave yard in the darkest night
Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll be alright 


Details | Rhyme | |

Memory Walks

I took them for a walk today, down pathways where they used to play.
The trees and rocks, the grassy lawns, each stop and start as we moved on:
Now so imbedded in my mind; I’d see it still if I were blind.

I took them for a walk today and spilled some tears along the way,
But never saw it to its end, never turned that final bend . .
For sadness overcame my time . . those walks now only in my mind.


Details | Free verse | |

Kill Room

Unforgiving cemented ground
Chaotic yearning echos 'round
Breathing seething sour fume
Hollow icebox makeshift tomb


Details | ABC | |

Prince Obi Wan

Prince Obi Wan is not a morning dog, you see —
He grumbles and he fusses, when awakened,
Just like me!

Wherever I am, You will find him there,
He is my flame through time,
That shall never fail,
With him, I have not one fear,

He howls his complaints,
When things do not quite go his way –
Yet even still, he is the best part,
Of any given day!

He sings with heart, for all to hear,
He gives each song, all he has,
That is –
My Prince Obi Wan, my little fur-man,
Now his body has gone,
Yet even still, his spirit remains,
I feel him each place I go,
He will always be with me,
This I absolutely know.


Details | Haiku | |

The hairless street dog

A hairless street dog -
Skinny and one leg broken
Limps near the bazaar!


Details | Rhyme | |

To a Good Dog, Our Loafy

His name was Troy, but I called him Loafy,
Cause he looked like a loaf of bread;
Fat, so fat his neck had rolls,
Right up to the top of his head.
That little dog was so determined,
So full of life and zest;
He’d need a ramp to mount the sofa,
Or fall flat on his chest.
And in the wintertime he’d freeze,
And stand there till he died;
So we would put his booties on,
And walk him by our side.
Sometimes we’d have to carry him,
Cause arthritis was his vice;
His legs so narrow, just like sticks,
Would crumble on the ice.
He’d chase the cat but scramble much,
And bark a whiny bark;
So heavy, he’d roll off the couch,
To catch it in the dark.
But Loafy, he was loved by all,
Until that faithful day;
When something started to appear,
Upon his face of grey.
It seemed that thing that grew on him,
Made all his ailments worse;
He barely walked and couldn’t bark,
Without a heaving curse.
So with a heavy sigh of sorrow,
We took him to the vet;
They told us he had cancer now,
Our mother’s loving pet.
That day was harder than the next,
For our endearing mother;
She left her Troy to go to sleep,
And never loved another.


Details | I do not know? | |

Magical Fairy Dust

I hear a bubbling sound
as you would while boiling water
I watch you with sadness in my eyes
as the white sparkling MAGICAL FAIRY DUST 
transforms to liquid
with its unruly smell of chemicals
the kind used for household cleaning
As I sit in the chair of hopelessness
I see the MAGICAL FAIRY DUST
has lost its white sparkle
turning to smoke of grey
lost is not the magic the
MAGICAL FAIRY DUST holds
I sit anxiously like a child
waiting for the magic show to begin
What will the magic bring
I can only guess
Will it leave me feeling lonely
as if my best friend has gone away
Terrified like a mother and child
being separated in a large crowd
Feeling like an unwanted dog
being left at the dog pound
There are rare times of love
Remembering back to our cherished times
so long ago
Cuddling like a child would 
with its warm furry teddy bear
Laughing resembling a crowd
at a comedy show
The magic show has begun
but i'm not the audience tonight
The MAGICAL FAIRY DUST 
has taken my best friend away
Here I sit on the cold worn out cement
in front of the dog pound
Reminiscing how wonderful life was
without the MAGICAL FAIRY DUST


Details | Ballad | |

The Scavenger Dog

The scavenger dog

Moving along the dirty streets
With its standing ears down
Sored at both tip. No gametes
At sight sex unknown no proper noun

Running away from stones
Well targeted, thrown by the jocular juveniles
For showing interest in contested bones
They laugh unhappily as their best friend flies

Feasting on the black round faeces
Of well fed fat goats
Or a week old lorry ridden rats or rotten Pisces
Puddle. Lucky when it sees a bone that floats

Playing seriously with Latrine flies
Who always surround its nine vivid ribs
Sucking nectar where it wounds lies.
In its hair dead ticks build their cribs.

Lying comfortably on the puffy street sewage
Allowing the fighting mice to lull it to death
It was after a drink from the drainage
And barking on a scorpion which it later ate.

Shaking helplessly on the road
Till the lead trailer ran pass it.
It was buried by cars and buses full with load
The worms and flies could not just die with it 

It was a pregnant dog.