Thea, grandfather Alferd's dog died, she was so old and sick
Now is Thea on the moon, says Adrian who is six
Michael Jackson died so unexpectedly and abruptly
He is on the moon and plays with Thea, says Adrian who is a big fan
Betzy, grandfather Arild's dog died, she was also old and sick
Now Betzy is also on the moon with Thea and Michael Jackson and play all day
Great Grandmother died so unexpectedly and abruptly
Adrian who is six had difficulty understanding
Adrian who is six cried many tears for Great Grandmother
but comforted himself with the fact that she is sitting on the moon and
makes waffles to Thea, Michael Jackson and Betzy.
A-L Andresen :) - A true story -
The Day The Dog Died
The very day her dog had died ;
she sat alone and cried and cried.
He'd been her companion for many a day ;
she thought he'd be there when SHE went away.
She wept and wept all through the night ;
somehow, her husband would make it all right.
They got in the car and went to the pound ;
she, so discouraged, just looked at the ground.
"Pick out another", her old husband said ;
"You have to face it, your boy dog is dead."
Then the old lady walked slowly outside ;
tears rolled down her face, she wanted to hide.
Up rambled an old dog, a female was she ;
crawled into their car, as bold as could be.
The dog sat patiently waiting there ;
not moving a muscle, going nowhere.
"She just picked us out !", the old lady cried ;
"I thought I'd have no friend till' the day I died."
Now both the old girls sit in a chair;
discussing the world and going nowhere.
That little dog had a very sad past ;
now, she has someone to love her, at last.
She's given the dog a name, Dee Dee,
she listens intently, her chin on Mom's knee.
They pass the long hours being together;
in rain or snow, through all kinds of weather.
So, if this is a "dog's life", lucky is she;
there's just not a better place to be.
Perhaps they will leave on the very same day,
for, to each, there is no other possible way.
I think of them often....they'r gone from this earth;
I'm nearing her age and I not nearly her worth.
Although. three little dogs sit on my bed;
listening and playing and tilting their heads,
at each and everything I say;
like it was important in some sort of way.
I understand the importance of each little creature ;
to someone, somewhere, for they are the teachers.
Call me whatever to suit your moods
Lay me out with cuss words, “give me the goods”
Scandalize my name every place you go
“It’s a dog eat dog world” but I hate that flow
So scatter your venom to the four winds of earth
Burn the night oil you may hang in dirt
While hours creep I lie comfortable in my bed
Dead to this world, I fall asleep, well fed
Like a kid after a long, hot day in the pool
In “the dog days of summer”, keeping cool
Each day with a clean heart, I go on my way
Often, “happy as a flea in a dog house”, I stay!
My preference sometimes is to “let sleeping dogs lie”
As this is one baggage, I will not carry ‘til I die
No lasting affect do your words have on me
Wishing you and yours only the best, you see
I know who I am, and keep malice at bay
Fervently I believe that “ every dog has its day”
I met a man on the internet, but he’s not for me to date
He seems ok because he has a dog he loves, so I think I am too late.
The dog was given a name of notable English fame
He used to live on 221b Baker Street and Sherlock was his name.
Poor Sherlock has sore eyes, so they sent him to Dr Bart
He had to have a lid lift to keep the lids apart.
Poor Sherlock is now home and feeling very sad
A cone around his head, he wants to sleep with mum and dad.
Sherlock is a bloodhound, not the smallest dog
He sleeps with mum and dad and daddy writes his blog.
Dad has found a use for Sherlock with his cone around his head
He places him in the garden for free satellite instead.
Get Well Soon Sherlock
THE MUSHERS RIDE OUT
Air colder than the heart of death
Surrounds the champion teams
And crystals dance twixt every breath
To paint this Arctic dream
Critics who think these dogs coerced
To run in mighty races
Need only bask upon the sight
Of eager canine faces
Commands are sharp , mistakes are few
The lead dog thinks for all
And like a whisper wrapped in wind
He hears the mushers call
No whips or sticks strike dogs who lead
It’s months and years together
The musher and his dog who leads
Are minds that think together
As mushers wait and dogs stand tall
All eager to be gone
The darkness lurks beyond the lights
And in a shot they’re gone
Well-wishers line the barren streets
Where winds are arctic whips
While satellites will flash the sight
From warmth the newsmen quip—
Fools of Tourists dressed all wrong
will scoff at cold life dangers
These careless tourists wander off
At risk to rescue rangers
The neighbours went off on their yearly vacation,
Off to visit some foreign nation.
Leaving me keys and a list a mile long,
To watch their pets. What could go wrong?
The rottweiler is a gentle soul
As long as there's always food in her bowl.
The trick is filling it as quick as can be,
So you need to be fast, faster than me.
The birds take pride in emptying their dishes
All over the floor, and then there's the fishes.
So there's food and water and then food again,
Making sure there's enough to last until when
The next day begins and we start it anew.
I'm told there's a cat. Really! Who knew?
If there is , it certainly keeps itself hid.
It's like playing hide and seek with some little kid.
Walking the dog has become quite a chore.
She sees the leash and runs for the door.
After being dragged two miles the walk finally starts.
The dog is immense, she should be pulling carts.
Back to the house and the hide and seek game.
If there is a cat, it doesn't come to it's name.
The birds are now staring at their seeds on the floor.
I refuse to refill the dishes as I head to the door.
So this daily ritual will last another week
And I'll keep trying to win the game of hide and seek.
Thank goodness their vacation only comes once a year.
After watching the pets ....I could sure use a beer.
. *DOGGY STYLE*
Tonight! Tonight! I must display.
About my man's doggy style way.
Once he comes home he acts like I'm his "DOGGY BAG."
"It’s DOGGING ME!" The way he starts to nag.
He came from the bar with his "DOG BREATH!"
Calling me by the name of Beth.
When he settles down he starts acting like he's the "TOP DOG!"
"DOGGONE IT!" doesn't he know I'm adding this bone to my blog.
Now he's drunk acting "MEAN LIKE a JUNK YARD DOG!"
I taunt him by calling him a pig and a hog.
We "FIGHT LIKE CATS and DOGS," this really must be love?
"It's a DOG eat DOG WORLD" when push comes to shove!
Once again he will sleep "IN THE DOG HOUSE!"
This time for ripping my favorite blouse.
It's too bad "YOU CAN'T TEACH an OLD DOG NEW TRICKS!"
I wish he was a real dog, he needs to be neutered and fixed.
I think I will laugh and kiss him good night.
Anyways "HIS BARK is WORSE THAN HIS BITE!"
By morning he will be "SICK AS A DOG" and scary like a mouse.
I'm still waiting to be "Happy as a FLEA in a DOG HOUSE!"
"HE IS NOTHING BUT A HOUND DOG" thinking it's doggy style all the time!
In his rabies case his desires keeps getting worse than slobber and slime.
.Should I tell my man that his actions are what I call humans love torch?
With the reaction "IF you can’t run with the BIG DOG's PUPPY, STAY on the porch!"
Who would have guessed/ the love carried for a beagle no less
Lily howling at the moon/ with ears long as her toes our coon
she gave birth to Bambi with no tail/ jack a be , 3 yrs later she is ours still
no describing the love for our girls / dressed in pink shirts and curly frills
the girls don't like when we leave home / they show us for leaving them alone
the pillows torn and howling non stop / we love our girly beagles until we drop
What is it about dogs that make us love them so
I suspect a life without them is not the full show
Dogs are there for us, whenever we need
Without judgment, or intent to mislead
Their lives seem so simple, no stress, or strident demands
Eating, sleeping, playing, waiting simply to obey our commands
Even when times seem most intense
Just watching a dog sleep can help make some sense
Of things that are important, and those that are not
When dogs are up and alerted, that’s when one should possibly be fraught
What do you think gives them their sometimes fitful dreams?
I’ve often wondered, what is a dog extreme?
Maybe they worry for us, and that’s what frightens them so
Or it may just be a chase that was prematurely let go
Their lives can provide perspective on what really matters
Unconditional friendship and love that doesn’t leave one in tatters
If you’re looking for solace, some piece of mind
Look no further than a dog, a companion so inclined
Max, Woody, Huck, Bodie, Boomer and Jake
All wonderful companions through life and some heartache
I wouldn’t change a thing, grateful they were part of our being
Their memory sustains us when we’re having trouble seeing
So I suggest, a life without dogs is less than it should be
Maybe think about a faithful companion, and see what it could be
[I wrote this one when I was a school boy - it's my stab at the shortest poem in the world ever]
Talking can lead to fights and stuff
To know someone just sniff their butt
June 9th, 2013
A dog's, if not a doc's, good nose
is good enough to diagnose.
I sat by the fire one dark, stormy night
reading a book which filled me with fright-
My dog was snoozing on the rug by the door,
the cat was meowing and pacing the floor-
The lightning it dazzled as the thunder did crack,
a sudden chill wind had crawled up my back;
I sat up with a start, spilling my cup
which splashed on the dog, waking him up!
He started to barking and chasing the cat,
who jumped on the curtain and tore it in fact-
Now I yelled at them both as I reached for the broom,
bringing silence once more while sweeping the room-
The clock had struck twelve when a knocking I hear,
getting louder and louder as I slowly crept near;
Throwing the latch I peeked out with much care,
greatly surprised, seeing no one out there-
I was very relieved while resuming my book
when a scratch at my window urged me to look-
I peered ever so close at that sinister face,
all green and ferocious, an ogre from space-
The dog stood there laughing and trimming my hair,
and the cat was a'whistling while dancing in air;
I then closed my eyes and started chanting, I think
when a monkey appeared, all portly and pink-
I cried in despair and leapt from my seat,
while a rooster was crowing and pecking my feet;
I readied myself to fly like a rocket,
when a mouse started singing and jumped in my pocket-
I won't tell you no more, I just don't recall
except for a frog, who was fifteen feet tall-
Twas only a dream and I awoke in my bed,
my dog snoring beside me, my cat lickin' my head-
The sights I have seen are no cause for alarm,
I've spent many a year on this haunted old farm!
“Hi, hi, how are ya?” Bowser seemed to say
When Jake came home from work each day
Work went fine, but when Jake stepped inside
He turned from Doc Jekyll to Mr. Hyde
Clean laundry was scattered about the floor
Silk curtains weren’t hanging anymore
The lid on his crock pot had been removed
All over the pot roast Bowser had drooled
Paw prints left scratches on the toilet seat
Holes in his waterbed doused the torn sheet
Jake had lost women because of the stench
Of dirty old dog in the couch entrenched
And hairs that stuck to black, sexy attire
Had proved a sure way to quench gals’ desire
Poor Jake had now reached the end of his rope
Unforgiving, he no longer could cope
The dog had been bored, but that’s no excuse
He’d caused more havoc than a herd of moose
Jake stayed calm, Bowser didn’t hear him grouse
But he was sentenced to life in the dog house
CAN YOU SPEAK WOMAN?
I can speak French and sometimes Chinese
I can also speak cat with some ease
When he miaows at me as he goes
I mimic his call and he knows
When the dog barks I reply
Even the horse and I see eye to eye
But I can’t speak “woman”
It’s beyond the speech power of a man.
I can’t talk for hours about shoes
And discuss the merits of mauves or blues
Or share the humour of how pink bows
Don’t go with green pillows
And go all weepy over Meryl Streep
Or wax lyrical over some punk-rock creep
Or persuade some guy to discuss flowers
Rather than the size of the nuclear powers
.. . . . so she said. . . . so then I said. . .
And she whispered. . . . and her face went red. . . .
No it’s impossible to spend hours on the phone
I’d rather sit watching football all alone
It’s futile me trying to pretend
An interest in what gift to send
Or remember birthdays wi th accuracy
Such a task would drive me crazy
God save me from female speech
Let me speak “man”, I beseech
Just let me sit alone and grunt
Or maybe shoot, fish, and hunt
And talk to the dog about football facts
Or maybe to the car while I wax.
Angel of mine
I had written a poem called “Deaths Door”
My sleeping problem my wife did endure
From when I lost my spouse
It’s only the dog and I at the house
Before I go to bed I shut the light
Something happened to me one night
I felt a hand on my back waking me
Nobody but the dog here with and me
It could have been a night I lost my breath
An angel may have kept me from death
That angel must be my wife
Still watching over my life
She watched over me when she was alive
She must still be helping me to survive
By Sashi Prabhu (zeauoxian)
Contest: treasure trove
Austerely laid my eyes firmly on my garden far side
Tattered page piles, from my attic treasure trove, littered outside.
I picked up a dog eared page of the days of sitting together,
In this garden, cuddling and smooching in cold weather.
On such a glorious winter day, I scribbled on this page love notes,
A long time ago, by the way, in double quotes
Nostalgic now the dismal, Melancholy tenors that fill in,
Memories of “au revoir”, replete my poignant heart to its brim.
A wind now blows this dog eared page & it flies by the old gum tree
Dully chase it with some rage &as I see the page, begin to read all about me……………..
For the last two lines, the paper is vacant void & bare,
Heart’s healed wounds to open with quinine drenched text I would not dare.
This last Mothers day
My wife’s little dog passed away
Holly was my wife’s little love
Both now are in the heaven above
Holly did not like the cold
Poor Holly only ten years old
I miss my wife so much
I also miss that little dog’s touch
I just had to adopt a little dog for me
This little dog named Maggie
Something’s lurking in the shadows. Something’s hiding in the dark.
Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something out there wants to get me! I am losing my sang-froid.
Something wants to disappear me. I’m not being paranoid!
I used to have a neighbor woman--We cannot find her anywhere.
When I called for some patrolmen. They did not show ‘cause they don’t dare!
Something outside isn’t human-- or at least not anymore.
A cannibal or psycho axeman, or just a clown covered with gore.
I’ve got the willies something fierce. Those shivers just won’t go away.
I’m not ready for the hearse. Too scared to run…too scared to stay.
Someone’s walked over my tomb, or given me the evil eye.
Something’s out there in costume--Trick or treat, it’s time to die!
Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something’s lurking in the shadows. Something’s waiting in the dark.
On a drab snowy day
Two dogs forfeited play
To wait for their Man
A kind human
The dogs agreed Cold and Hungry "matter not to me"
We'll wait til our Person, our Dad do We seep
Each night waiting for the train's whistle blowing
Until the train arrives We'll not be going
There's only one human important to our minds
We were fortunate this Dad did we find
Most dogs have lives not quite optimum
But they have a right to expect at least minimum
But No! say wise human counselors
We say "why not is our blood not red as yours?"
Dogs were not born to suffer and die
Homeless is not their fault for them We do cry
Humans are a cause of dogs' sad plight
"Just kill them" they say "get them out of sight"
Is this the answer? Please tell us it's not true
Humans We thought our best friend was you
He always says..."She has the "soul of a jewel"!!"
I always say...."She rides like a stubborn old mule"!!!
So...he wants me to ride in his old pick up truck..???
Well, I'm glad to tell you....he has run out of luck!!
I'll tell you why....
Would I lie???
It was once painted blue...but now the color is rust
But you can't be too sure...'cause it's covered in dust!
The engine has to idle...'bout half an hour is good..
You can feel the vibration, around the whole freakin' neighborhood!
If I open the door,...it makes a loud squeak
I must hold my breath....Eewwwww!! What are those odors?? It reeks!!
My life is in jeopardy if I go for a ride!
The windshield is dirty, we can't see from inside
It makes a weird noise...and rides bumpy and rough
The dashboard is peeling, and covered with "stuff"
The seat cushion's torn, it pokes at my rear
His dog sits beside us, and licks at my ear
There's no place below, to rest my feet
There's a hole in the floor....you can see the street!!!!
The windows don't close, so there's always a breeze
With old Kleenex flying...those were tossed when he sneezed...
Wrappers from Twinkies, a Burger King box...
One lonely old sneaker...and dirty old socks
If I had me some coffee...I'd really be set
'Cause those are dirty Styrofoam cups....and even more than that!
Half a stale donut is squished on the floor
Darn!! The dog beat me to it...and is looking for more!
The muffler is loose, you can see the sparks fly
Dirty looks from the folks, who get smoke in their eyes
When we drive by the neighbors, I duck my head and I hide
I'm no Prima Donna....but I've still got some pride!!
He loves that old truck....he calls her a gem!
If he had to choose between us.......I could be out on a limb!!!
For Paula's contest "Soul of a ........ & Life of a ........."
Little lad and big dog,
Big dog and little lad,
A childhood shared in friendship,
A boy and his yellow lab.
The beginning passed through worried eyes,
As adults watched the transition,
But sometimes, fun was this new journey,
For the boy with imagined visions.
One day they would be explorers,
Making their way down sunlit canyons,
The next they would be Spacemen,
Still in space, each others' companion.
A warm heart, a steady step,
Confidence built each day,
Small dangers were averted,
And always disguised as play.
This dog had intuition
The boys Parents saw clean and true,
No need to fret with this well trained pet,
They had seen what this Lab could do.
The boy was never lonely,
With his saviour by his side,
To him it hardly mattered now,
The day that he turned blind.
Good dog :-)
© July 2013
Hark! Hark! The pesky dog doth bark,
And deposits indiscretions in the park!
Perhaps doggie wouldn't be such a klutz,
If masters would learn to mind their mutts!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Using a ton of poetic license, this write is based on an old nursery rhyme!
LITTLE LAD AND BIG DOG
Little lad and big dog I saw
What a pair walking in the meadow
Excitement shows on their faces
As they ran in every places
Best friend forever never be apart
Loyalty and love keeps in their heart
Little lad take care of this fine beauty
A big dog is jumping and very happy
A perfect pair to see and to behold
Welcome to their own colorful world
June 21, 2013
For Seren’s “Little Lad and Big Dog” Contest
A true partnership, we share the need
to roam, and to relieve ourselves.
He pulls me forward, in his scented
search for residue, he is also yearning.
We drift through his neighborhood, he
exposes me to his dreams, I follow.
I begin to see things from his point of
view, we share underlying curiosities.
And then she appears, apprehensively we
skirt around, until she disappears.
We turn around, and return to our lesser
world, to revisit and reflect anew.
I know how it feels old boy, the pull of
the leash, putting her just out of reach.
Quietly we make our way, footsteps
toward the creaking door, I love my dog.
DOG AND PLASTIC BAG
- THE END
My dog went after a plastic bag one day
Caught it in mid-flight, I’d say
Stopped its ascent to greater glory
But that’s not the end of the story
Bag got caught on the poor dog’s head
After a struggle the dog was dead
Sorry, no more poems about bag or dog
To amuse and hold readers agog
Jake's as purty as a Boston terrier can be.
Grinning and jumping each time he sees me.
He’s happy to be fed and he dearly loves to fetch.
We use a little stuffed bear when we play catch.
I got him as a puppy and instantly could tell
He was a dog I would love and never ever sell.
He chewed on the corners of furniture and stuff.
He loves to play “tug of war” because we played so rough
Now he’s almost six years old, my friend Jake
He never fails to greet me, my day he does make
A good dog and companion for the whole family.
“Feed Jake” if I can’t, is my heart-felt plea.
PLASTIC BAG PLAGIARISM
I thought it was all over but I have
Been assaulted by a plagiarists’ wave,
And I felt used, abused, dirty .
I’ve received insults about a plastic bug (about thirty)
And a plastic bog. Some have referred
To my plastic as being merely big; or claimed (and erred)
To have seen how my poor dead plastic begs.
But the most heartlessly cruel dregs
Were making “plastic dog” jokes,
Not to mention the bombastic pseudo-erudite folks
With their sarcastic references (often sick)
To elastic clastics in the mastic,
And how my “idiot” dog was enthusiastic,
Though drastic and rustic.
From people’s cruelty there seems no refuge
But, who knows? When they get to the pearly gate
They could come face to face with a huge
Plastic dog determining their fate.
Sometimes a dog's best friend is a little guy
Please listen real carefully I'll tell you why
I was that little guy a long time ago
Not really that stong and perhaps a bit slow
Then came the siren it's ring cut through the air
The big dog whimpered as the sirens did blare
I took my little hands and covered his ears
I felt so sad that my eyes were filled with tears
He stood there watching me with those saucer eyes
No longer scared I watched his wagging tail rise
In a few moments he was licking my face
My new companion went with me every place
This is a true story, I would have been about five at the time.
Little Lad And Big Dog Contest.
P.S. Great picture
Hair Of The Dog...
I woke up this morning with the brown bag flu,
And I’m sick as a dog from too many brews;
But you know what they say “Hair of the Dog”,
I poured me a beer, to rid my mind of this fog;
My stomach is churning but I soldier on,
Praying soon that this headache is gone;
It seems to me I only made it worse,
Someone please call me a nurse;
Hair of the dog sure did me in,
And I swear I’m never drinking again.
Sassy the Assassinator
Sassy is a lapdog, not a large bird-dog
She likes to chase hopping bullfrogs or a hiding hedgehog.
She is a friend to a cat, but not to a groundhog
But she thinks she’s a big bad watchdog!
For years little Sassy has chased away every stray.
No matter how huge the intruder, night or day,
With tails tucked between their legs, dogs ran away.
Sassy yapping at his heels all the way.
Every dog was sent away; Sassy would not play.
Teeth and barks were her fierce display.
She once terminated forty-two baby chicks.
(In five minutes) Her owners are city-hicks.
Even though she killed chicks and gave a baby bear a fright.
Her humans know that her bark is usually worse than her bite.
She has cornered opossums, and fought with hens.
Bi-polar? Cute and mean is where the story begins.
But one day Sassy went for a ride in the car.
The visit to relatives was not very far.
When we arrived, she was ready to get outside.
And she did so proudly, her nose high with pride.
Their big dog trolloped over toward little Sassy,
He was as big as a St. Bernard and she was angry.
Yap! Yap! Yap! She barked in her usual way.
Suddenly, she looked up; he did not run away.
She tucked her tail and whimpered, which was strange.
That big dog that drooled on her head, wrought a change.
He did not bark, grumble, or growl; he just looked down.
Then, "Sassy the Assassinator", for the fist time, played around.
© August 30, 2010
IN CASE I PLAGIARISE
My dog (1)went out(2) one day(3)
And (4)saw a pussy cat(5) there(6) at play(7)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .
To avoid accusations of plagiarism, I am adding extensive footnotes to all my poems in future. This is merely the first
(1) R J Ackerley MY DOG TULIP
(2) Henry David Thoreau WRITINGS Vol II
(3) David Nicholls ONE DAY
(4) W Shakespeare MERCHANT OF VENICE Act 1, Scene 2
(5) Hanna- Barbera TOM AND JERRY 1949
(6) Albert Einstein EINSTEIN QUOTES
(7) Simran Khurana CHILDREN QUOTES
I took my doggy for a ride.
She looked so cute sitting by my side.
And then she gave a little cough
And couldn't seem to turn it off.
She was sick on the seat, but it got worse
She threw up into my open purse.
She was just as sick as a dog can be,
And oh my word, she's been sick on me.
Should I call 911 or find a vet?
I sure needed help for my little pet.
I saw a veterinary sign.
I hoped he could fix this dog of mine.
The vet was a very handsome guy.
I was such a mess, I wanted to cry.
His amusement, he didn't try to hide.
Being laughed at I cannot abide.
"She's just car sick," he said with a smirk.
"Give her these pills, I'm sure they'll work."
I had the last laugh when I heard him curse.
I had paid with money from my stinking purse.
I used the line "Sick as a dog>"
For Andrea's Doggone conterst. won 3rd
My Wonderful Dog Wylie
Everything my dog energetically enjoyed;
Was friendly and no one would be avoided
Regardless of place, how, when or where
Lived life free from desperation and despair.
Would you say that Wylie was willy-nilly?
If you did this might sound so very silly;
After me and my wife drank a night cap
Wylie liked to jump up into my lap.
When young puppy his legs liked leaping;
Dreamed of puppy love when was sleeping;
One day ended up meeting his death knoll
After forgetting location of his food bowl.
For long time Wylie was getting on in years
One day without warning he disappears
And begged from God that he be blessed;
Do doggie sins have to be confessed?
Went to church where I would pray and kneel
But to Wylie dog this would never appeal;
He's now in heaven sitting with much sun
Where God is taking him for a real nice run.
James Thomas Horn
PS. This is my neighbor's dog who is a 12 year
old boxer who they are putting to sleep soon.
Chocolate brown, with smoldering bronze eyes.
A faithful companion, and a dog in disguise.
Half chocolate lab, and half red pit bull.
Calm as can be when we're having a staring duel.
The only dog I know, who falls asleep standing up.
She's been this way ever since she was a new born pup.
She'll sit in your lap like she weighs a mere five pounds.
Believe me, its just as funny to picture as it sounds.
We treat her like a part of the family, and not at all like a dog.
She's overweight, so good luck getting her to go for that healthy jog.
I wouldn't trade her for all the money in the world!
She'll always be my precious angel, my baby girl.
*Note* Truffles are my FAVORITE candy and we got our puppy right before Valentines day, so
being as she's half "chocolate" lab, eh why not name her "Truffles", so yes I know we are
The dog days of summer come whetherwe want them or not.
Laying in a pool is better than being hot.
The dog days of summer are here from dusk til dawn.
We're all wishing for rain to water the lawn.
The dog days of summer are for swimming and fun.
Fishing or baseball even tanning in the sun.
The dog days of summer are hot enough to fry an egg.
Wishing the days were cooler so I wouldn't have to beg.
The dog days of summer are going to be over soon.
When school starts again you'll sleep until noon.
-Dedicated to Abby (written in 3rd grade, okay.)
there was a dog
she was my friend
she wasn't "just a mutt"
she always came when you called her name
and she always looked left and right
before she crossed the street at night
i loved her so much
but now she's gone
that dog was special
that dog was sweet
she wasn't a "mutt"
she wasn't a "full-breed"
she was my friend
she's still in my heart
she's still in my mind
she's sitting, listening all the time
always with me
not always licking my hair,
~ Stepping Inside Oneself ~
Uncertainty shadows the hollow the stream…
A stroll through a battlefield of broken dreams…
Pieces scattered from walls to ceilings…
A puzzle of sins and subconscious feelings…
It climbs from the ashes of burnt redemption…
Inside a prison of one that bleeds salvation…
Behind ones soul sits a staircase made of scars…
Leading to a door left purposely ajar…
THE MUSHERS RIDE OUT (part 2) Arctic Dogsledding
But in the race-- the last sleds skid
Fleet dashers kiss the road
Excitement flows through panting limbs
Among this glorious fold
The mushers breathe in glories
‘Neath skies where grey eats blue
The dogs’ blood touched in magic
Heart-boldness born anew
For racing has its winners
The world will see one face
but the winning of this venture--
is survival of the race
Foes and allies side by side
Fate braids their wild desires
Each step through such life threatening lands
Seek comforts flamed by fires.
A thousand miles will test their skill
In cold winds dark and fierce
A bond will form among these teams
No pot of gold can pierce
The old dogs teach the young
Young mushers quickly grow
Keep straight the gangline as they run
Teams strain through ice and snow
When injured dogs bleed out their lives
Leave blots of crimson tears
the lead dog takes the team to task
Delays all pain and fears
And when they see the final leg
each team will tear in town
where all are warmly welcomed
and warmly bedded down.
A noble nature rules here
Despite life rough and cruel
A code of honor spurs them on
This life learned not in school.
The widow’s lamp burns valiantly
Awaits the last sweet team
And when they stagger cross the line
The sirens gaily scream--
There is respect for hearts that blaze
They offer brave ones rest--
The folks that welcome first to last
Are sparks of Nature’s Best
Home: Valdez, Alaska
Doggone it! Can't you believe it, it's happening again!
Somone call off them dogs, because it's about to be a murderous sin!
My fellow poets, Andrea Dietrich is a poet I admire.
But in case you didn't know it, P.D. is a dog-face liar!
A few poets soup mailed me and said, "Let sleeping dog's lie."
But I just wanted to "Collabo" on a "dark fantasy" and be a poetic samurai!
You lie down with dogs P. D., and you'll wake up with fleas.
She laughed at my poetry then got strung by my poetic bees!
I just wanted to end P.D.'s poetic career, not her death!
But something is seriously wrong I fear and I think it's her dog breath!
So Nathan Dilts steps in the mix, but his bark is worse than his bite.
You can't teach an old dog new tricks, you poetic parasite!
I told P.D. , "girl you like my doggy-style."
But then again, it would be a sin to sleep with a reptile!
Let me seal this with a kiss, so P. D. raise the write flag.
I'm throwing Sidney in the abyss and sealing up my doggy-bag!
*Wrote for the lovely Andrea Dietrich and her contest...The title will remain the same;)
Sorry For The Danettes
by Rick Rucker
I'm so sorry, neighbor Sun,
For what my little dog has done!
I don't see how it could even happen, that a dog that has to jump to pee,
Could impregnate a dog that, when standing, is five foot three!
Analyzing the "attack,"
Your dog must have been on her back,
Egging poor little Heinrick on,
Once started, I'm sure, he was gone!
Still, you must admit,
That they are quite a hit,
With all the local brats,
Who use them to chase the cats!
At two feet long, and legs real small,
They can hide behind a soccer ball!
Jumping out, running like the wind,
Those once-fat cats, are much more thinned.
Please accept my apology,
For Heinrick's lesson in Impossible Biology!
An Angel stalked my better-half through my mind
Questioning our flawless design
Angel: "What is a beast if you grant it introspection?"
Man: "It's still an animal, yet closer to imperfection."
"What is a dog with no will to live?"
"A dog with a will always has hope to give."
"But dogs cannot contemplate, they simply are."
"Yet humans can, is it an improvement or a scar?"
"Undying love is a gift you bear!"
"What good is it when it hurts to care?"
"That is the beauty of woman and man!"
"But what is it, what truth is there to understand?"
"That is for God to tell"
"If our questions go unheard, I'm glad we fell."
"You've only fallen if you fail to see."
"I don't see god, but I can feel the animal in me."
"You would deny your God given status?"
"If God made us so great, then why can't we kill the bestial urges inside us?"
"Some people dwell closer to sin."
"Yet none of us can handle the animal within."
"I cannot help you if you can't agree."
"Only if I agree you will set me free?"
"Only with the glory of God can we save you and your kind."
"You cannot help me, you are just within my mind."
With that the Angel fell dead
The man stared calmly toward nothing and shot himself in the head
VCBFJF KD R ( MY DOG WENT OUT )
Vcbfjf kd r utrn fk ejn m ddk
Kroeme soent vpv vv a s frt rtrmkrkrn
My dog went out one day
To find some kids and see them play
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Normal Note in all competitions states that
“Poems should be in English. Poems translated from other languages are not eligible, unless you wrote both the original poem and the translation.“
This poem is my own, translated by me, written by me originally in Xsfaahjim, a little known language of New Guinea, where I worked as a teacher for many years. This language is so little known that it is not even mentioned on Google. Let no one plagiarise this poem, in English or in Xsfaahjim , because I will surely know.
(A dog's story)
We sit by the window looking in
The rain has soaked us to our skin
We've not much fur and very cold are we
But they look past us seeming not to see
We are their family they sometimes say
Do families treat other members this way?
If they were asked to sit in the rain
They would say "that's completely insane"
They believe animals don't belong indoors
Our paws it seems cause a mess on their floors
Food and grime is on their floor is it not?
But it is spread by their wandering tot
It seems they are victims of falsehood and myth
Holding that animals lives are not of much worth
Why do they think such things to be true
Do we not have red blood and beating hearts too?
All that we ask is their love and affection
There's danger for small souls who need protection
If they should invite us to go inside
We'd show our pleasure and kitty would hide
They'd have newsprint for my wet feet
I would look but since I can't read
I'd give my thanks and upon it I'd pee
Back In Bed Could Crash
To Wylie for a while will start to talk
After that shall take him for short walk
While we looked somewhere into the sky
Both he and I saw a beautiful butterfly.
Some say whole, complete life is sedentary
Which to me at times sure seems so scary
After short walk for home made a mad dash
So back into bed again he could crash.
How about that one? Jim
JOCK AND HIS DOG
Once knew a Scottish dancing geezer
Accidentally locked his dog in the freezer:
Seems the animal had just spilt
Some curds and milk all over his kilt:
Must have soaked right through his sporran.
(The dog of course was foreign .)
No Scots dog would do such a thing
As spill stuff mid a highland fling.
As Jock took stock of his tartan man-frock
The whole episode had been such a shock
The door of the freezer shut itself slam -
The dog was locked in with the ice cream and ham.
Oh but the key couldn’t be found,
Though Jock looked all around on the ground.
Turned out the dog had the key in his teeth -
He’d stolen it from the sporran sheath.
Poor dog got real cold till the police came,
Opened the freezer and on Jock placed blame.
But the dog hadn’t really suffered so cruel;
He’d eaten all the ice cream as fuel.
And the kilt was no worse for wear. . . .
But Jock’s sporran had lost all its hair.
Union activist actually – Animal Branch, dude.
My union buddies are thinking it‘s intolerably rude
To have penguin members thrown fish - an insult.
It should be politely offered, like to any human adult.
Our AFL-CIO sheep in an “overcrowded” flock
Must have minimum workers’ space needs; the stock
Needs two metres between each pair of sheep.
Some of our pigs are working in conditions so horribly cheap
As to be described as “a pig sty”.
But the most ridiculous waste of unionized labour in my
Opinion is cows, who‘ve got salt at one end of field
And water at other end: they gotta walk miles each day.
Seems obvious they could have salt and water together, say
At one end, and save a lot of walking for our brothers.
And what about racial slurs and implicit name-calling of others -
“Great Dane” suggests other nationalities of dog workers are worse.
Should be called “Danish” - all dogs are worth paying a fatter purse.
One of our brothers is a dog who’s a boxer:
Horrible, he’s one of the Marquis of Queensbury jocks…er…..
Oh…. and no more of that Old English Sheepdog stuff, I’m afraid.
It’s obvious age-ism in the trade.
WORDS AND BARKS
People were given a gift called speech
Most of the time they have nothing to teach
Dogs on the other hand can roll their eyes
They say more with wags and cries
Often people's unending words don't matter
It might be better if people would bark and dogs chatter
D AND PB : THE SEQUEL
My dog went out one day
You’ve often heard me say
Just me and him…buddies….us
Till he started to chase a bus
Leapt in the door and was shut in there
God knows how he paid his fare
I ran after him in chase
But it was an uneven race
Watching me from the rear window
Barking to urge me to follow
I almost caught up with the transit
Got my foot up near the exit
When a flying plastic bag
Entangled my head, made me gag
I collapsed with a choking cough
While the unheeding bus sped off
Last I saw of dog and bus
Was all the passengers making a fuss
He was indeed a cute little guy
So I could understand why.
Those dogs are indeed a problem
And plastic bags - who can control them?
Maybe right now he’s strolling with another
My prayer is that he will not smother.
A gift from a stranger, his name is Reefer;
we know right away that he's a keeper.
We re-name him Rugby so as not to confuse;
his condition suggests that he's been abused.
Anticipating a squabble, we bring in the cat;
he sprawls and yawns, refused to combat.
He never barks, he doesn't bite or growl;
until the cat decides to eat from his bowl.
Rugby walks behind her, emits one deep Woof;
Tricia jumps straight up, leaves with no reproof.
They co-exist peacefully, eat with never a tiff;
they need no policing, if you catch my drift.