I remember the day I picked you,
With your sweet little puppy dog eyes.
For my heart was searching for love too,
When I looked down and heard your soft cries.
Your brothers and sisters were running,
They were after a fallen clothes peg,
But there was a puppy so stunning
Trying hard to get up on my leg.
Four years it has been since that moment
And I thank God daily for his gift
Each day you give me such enjoyment
Your love has given my heart a lift.
Today I know as clear as can be,
I didn’t pick you; rather you picked me.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
We let down the top to soak in the sun
Now that the harshness of winter is done
As you let back the seat and put your feet on the dash
Saying, “keep your eyes on the road I don’t want to crash”
I truly must admit that I’m torn completely in two
The coast has its beauty, then again so do you
As the beauty of the Sun is absorbed by your skin
Like a kid at the candy store I simply want to dig in
If life is a candy store sweetheart you are the treat
All the other candy I tasted, never tasted so sweet
The reason I love summer is because of the heat
The skimpier the bikini, the greater the treat
I can’t begin to express how wonderful you are
Saying, “hey take a look at her I’ll steer the car”
At first I truly had no idea what I should say?
Though now it’s, “ok sweetheart, have it your way”
I think that is because you know these words are true
I may take look at her but I shall forever belong to you
Summer is a time that is as bright as the sun
Out goes the cold as it’s replaced by the fun
We have our barbecues and sit under the stars
Let down the tops and go for rides in our cars
Go tend to our gardens in farmer John clothes
Truly amazed at how fast everything grows
Go hang out at the river as well as the lake
Cover ourselves in oil than let our skin bake
Embrace the moments because these words are true
The days last much longer and the sky is so blue
The dog days of summer I reckon that’s so
We bark and howl at folk we don’t even know
If life is banquet then summer is the feast
I think we should gobble it up, to say the least
Written for john's Summer contest.
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009
Yesterday I was a baby on the farm
Precious being held in Mommy’s arms
Yesterday I said I was Daddy’s “kecaw”
And, smiling, I was my mother’s “doll”
Yesterday I was a little girl playing
Out in the grass where my dog was staying
We – he and I – would share the precious moments
The brown Collie-Spitz dog would follow where I went
Yesterday I played with my brother at night
In the clover with lightning bug’s flashing lights
Placing them in a jar with hole punched in lid
Watching them flash their mystery that was hid
Yesterday I watched as the men cut the hay
Piling stacks during the high heat of the day
The men would work hard but laugh with happiness
Sweating as they went about their busy-ness
Yesterday I picked big, juicy blackberries
While June bugs buzzed around my head all merry
O’er in the field far out of sight time I’d spend
As Goldenrod and Queen Ann’s Lace waved in the wind—
Yesterday farmer’s gathered to share work
While wives prepared steaming hot meals with no shirk
Tobacco cutting was hard labor to yield
Tobacco in barn meant money from the fields
Yesterday just before twilight fell to earth
Little sister and I walked through fields with mirth
We brought the cows to the barn as our habit
We laughed and sang as our dog chased the rabbits
O’er in western sky where dreams lie far away
The brilliance of gold and red were quietly sprayed
God’s had dipped His paintbrush into His vast supply
Displaying His beauty in love not denied
Yesterday’s chores were laborious and hard
Without fancy motors or pollutants to mar,
But with Betty and Billy pulling the implements
Somehow their nearness gave natural presence
Yesterday I became a young girl tall and skinny
Old enough to do chores and there were many;
Carried three buckets of water for the night
All day I starched and ironed clothes to look just right
Yesterday within my minds’ eye sees the past
It s’ amazing how bits and pieces seem to last
Good and painful surface then regress
Down life’s road whenever -- wherever; I’m blessed
Today’s tomorrow will become yesterday
Stacked days upon days filed deep and far away
Stored within recesses of God’s fine array—
There for retrieval in tomorrow’s someday
-Evelyn Pearl (Carpenter) Anderson
Note: “kecaw” was cushaw.
Copyright © E. Pearl Anderson | Year Posted 2013
Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”
Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”
One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But there, to his surprise…
Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.
Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”
Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.
Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed.
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.
Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he‘d come on the double.
Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray,
“Lord, let this day be my last.”
For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one evening,
Pal quietly passed away.
Bob held Pal in his arms and wept.
“Oh, Pal…my best friend…you saved my life.”
He caressed Pal as he reminisced;
Then, sometime in the night, Bob joined his wife.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought fresh flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….
Stood an old dog beside the stone,
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place.
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then, turned and licked her face.
She smiled through her tears.
“I had a dog when I was young...
A good one too. His name was Pal.”
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
A Tribute to Golda
It was a clear and bright sun shining morning in May.
As I came out my front door into the breezeway,
I saw coming toward me an enormous gray dog with eyes of pure gold,
The most exquisitely beautiful canine one could ever behold,
With a calm gentle presence and peaceful demeanor;
The look in his brilliant gold eyes assured I had nothing to fear.
It was love at first sight and I hoped he would stay.
Never mind the impediments; I’d find a way.
My toddler son climbed on him like they’d grown up together,
As I seriously pondered the prospect of whether…
Absolutely not, said my husband, a cat man,
And nixed the idea before it began.
Weeks later, a litter box and cat food mysteriously appeared
On the sidewalk, out of nowhere; we thought it quite weird.
With the next morning’s sunrise, we figured it out.
The same coat of gray and gold eyes left no doubt;
The same being who before as a dog had been spurned,
In a more acceptable form and presence had now returned.
Bounding out of the bushes with a commanding meow,
A little gray, gold-eyed kitten my husband had to allow.
In her life as a cat and formerly a dog,
She was my brave and wise Golda who would go on to log
More than one rescue of our subsequent pets.
In defending attack, this courageous gray, gold-eyed feline was as fierce as it gets.
Note: Golda saved the life of my Chow-Chow puppy when she was attacked by a big dog that
came at her from across the street. Golda came out of nowhere with claws out, sending the
dog scurrying with his tail between his legs. Another time she rescued our little Siamese
youngster, Meowli, from the neighbors' dogs by jumping on their head while Meowli ran for
cover. Golda stayed with me for 12 years, longer than the husband cited in the poem, and
then when her time and her work was done, she just disappeared pretty much as she had
appeared. She was a beautiful, long haired all gray Persian with brilliant gold eyes. When not
rescuing other animals, she had the same calm, gentle and peaceful demeanor as the dog who
showed up that morning and left when he knew he was not welcome to stay.
7th place winner in ~Somewhere A Pet Is Waiting Contest~ sponsored by ~A Rambling Poet~
Copyright © Linda Witt-King | Year Posted 2010
On this dreary winter morning I sit on a bench in Central Park. Lost in my own
thoughts of the conversation I had with my ex-wife and her last remarks. I keep asking
myself is it my fault? What did I do wrong? The chilly wind fills my ears with it's endless
song. I shiver slightly and goose bumps crawl along the back of my neck. Her words have
left me an emotional wreck. I pull my leather jacket tighter around my shoulders. I feel it in
my bones this day will get colder.
I've seen several joggers getting in their morning run. That just shows people will
continue their lives never mind the rays of the sun. So many thoughts running through my
head. And I hold the morning newspaper I still haven't read. I contemplate over my life, it's
not always easy, and so-called-friends can be the enemy. Even your spouse living in your
house can betray you with infidelity. That is why my heart is aching like a cavity. Right now
I'm doing my best to hang on to my sanity, but I really want to shout profanity.
I notice an attractive couple hand-n-hand laughing and enjoying a morning stroll; and
for some reason I can't control, I feel a sense of peace glow within my soul. My insecurities
diminish from their dark hellhole. I begin to feel "whole," and suddenly this morning doesn't
seem so cold.
I get up from the bench shaking off the numbness that has set in. A very pretty woman
walks by with her dog and I grin. She notices and smiles back. Wow! A kinda smile that is
only meant for kodak! I watch her walk past me with her dog leading the way. Something
tells me "you better not let this one get away." As I'm listening to my inner voice, she
glances back over her shoulder, and I knew that she too was giving me a choice. Amazing
how just several minutes ago my entire world seemed so dark. I now knew everything was
going to be okay because of this bench in Central Park......
* 10th Place win in "Anything Goes" Contest
sponsored by A Rambling Poet
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2009
We are as similar as opposites can be
He's short and puny, I am gangly
He barks when he's happy, angry or sad
Yes, he's my dog and he makes me glad
He looks at me with reverent eyes
As I beg before the world, for a morsel of rice
He's happy even though, it's in a broken voice, I sing
To him I am nothing less than a King
I am dirty and unkempt, my clothes in tatters
When people turn away with disdain, my heart shatters
But he's blissfully unaware of my pathetic existence
To him I am more than just means of subsistence
He is my companion, my friend, my guide
Together we surf the storms and the rising tide
Of everyday life and together we survive
I think, it is for him that I stay alive
As the day winds down, our spoils we share
In a dirty corner of a dirty street; Our lair
We always eat together, never alone
He always gives me the meat, and gnaws on a bone
I talk to him about past's glory, and today's misery
The world laughs at me and calls me crazy
But he wags his tail as though understanding it all
And snuggles up to me and sleeps, when night falls
Copyright © Manoj Kumar | Year Posted 2015
Down through the thicket,
Over and across the forest bend,
A tail sways, as the wind lifts leaves
of red and yellow.
Aside a pond kissed with moss,
we take a long walk on a clear day,
crawdads and minnows astir.
With hind quarters stiffly creaking forward,
he pants and sniffs at vibrant life
before stopping to rest and regain.
At the edge of the lake,
he laps the fresh water,
his fur glistening, hot to the touch.
Back home, he gets a warm bath,
the fragrance of his fur calling to mind memories
of previous days.
And as he sleeps, that labrador of love
on four legs, I am thankful for the
Copyright © Jeffrey Leiser | Year Posted 2016
05 September 2015 6:30 AM
Early morning start to my day
The dogs have jumped onto my bed to play
Goofy and rested and full of energy
Wrestling and growling what a site to see
The joy in their eyes like a child's smile
Rolling and tumbling making me forget for awhile
I could be annoyed because I did not want to get up
But I see it as God tickling his child through these pups
I dreamed of my eldest child last night
I played with her and she giggled in delight
God must have known that I would awake and feel alone
So he sent in the pups to make me laugh and know that I am not alone
Copyright © Bobb Marly | Year Posted 2015
Have you ever written anything without sub combing to tears ?
My Family portrait in my mind , 2 older sisters , 2 brothers
My Mother caring about all five in different ways
Just with Mom & Dad there having the best of Holidays
My sisters laying out on the deck of river bank for 4th of July ~
Listening to " Honkey Chateau " and all by Elton John.
music a great memory ~Disco , Donna summer , Grease ~ Jaws !
Dad's records to Tony Bennett , Hank W Sr. , Count Basie & Louis Armstrong.
The music takes me home in a wagon filled with children and a dog "Lucky "
My Older brother , athletic , always fishing & hunting.
My younger , my Rock , Swimming and netting for fish,
feeding our Fat cat Perch off the rocks patiently awaits her food
the yelling , slamming of doors , tempers Flare , passion
Our Parents , passionate love yet passionate Hate .
After being a Family of Seven , Divorcing their fate ..
Why did that show " Dallas " bring out the Divorce in all ?
Scottish ~ Irish ~ French Iroquois ~ Cherokee
No matter what the mix ..Our curse Alcohol ~
the Screaming , Drinking , this memory I wish to shut the door on .
Going to A & W or making Cheerleading ,The Bears of course~
Excited in Chicago ! seeing Elton John in the Summer of 1976 ~
Cubs , museum of Wax , Museum of science & History , Pizza !
Expeditions of discovery ,little brother & I finding arrowheads on the Shore.
Our Grandparents Faithful Celebrations ! Chiffon cake , Apple strudel `
Our Cousins on Holidays , going for ice cream cones ,
scent of wet rain on oak leaves ~Before Halloween was bought in stores.
~ That is the Family I Love ,
that is the Family I choose to miss ~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
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.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Loving, Playing, Gaurding
Best friend of man
Copyright © Cassie Smith | Year Posted 2012
In a dog's life.We get toy balls, and toy bones
to play with.In a dog's life.We get names like
Rover, and Lassie, Rin Tin Tin, and Lucky.In a
dog's life.We chase balls, and cats, and cars,
and deer, a bird, a pheasant, or a little girl's
Christmas present.In a dog's life.We like milk
bone dog food, crunchy biscuits, and crunchy dog
treats.We like dog foods with plenty of meat.In a
dog's life.We jog along, when the master goes out
for a run, or we run all day long in the back yard,
just for fun.In a dog's life.We catch a flying frisbee.
As it floats through the air.We make all kinds of
noise.As we chase off the grizzly bear.In a dog's
Doggy Pet Poetry By Kim Robin Edwards
All rights reserved
Copyright © Kim Robin Edwards | Year Posted 2014
Some people say dogs are complicated
others will say we have mistreated them
some humans make dogs very frustrated
rarely are dog houses clean as a gem
man and dog have lived together for years
they’re not just men’s best friends they’re women’s too
and some owners and their dogs shared some beers
no one should think of doghouse as a zoo
as an infant a dog was always there
maybe that’s why I respect them today
I believe most dogs should be treated fair
some humans are abusive it's no play
dogs are just like children they want love too
pet them and love them and a bone to chew
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013
Put on a leash
Sniff sniff sniff sniff
New place to pee
Copyright © Rick Zablocki | Year Posted 2013
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.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
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
Copyright © Shawn Sackman | Year Posted 2009
My life as a dog would indeed be fine
Knowing I could nap anywhere, anytime.
On the porch or in a chair,
I could dream without a care.
With my legs, I'd set a pace
And find a cat or car to chase.
If that prusuit for me did fail,
I'd turn around and chase my tail.
With my nose, I'd take in smells
And see what things I could tell.
Like who is cooking, what and where,
Or who passed by, here and there.
With my ears, I could listen good
To the sounds of my neighborhood.
When the sun went down and all was dark,
I'd take heed of the twilight bark.
With my voice, I would make known
Visitors who approached my home.
My bark would make all foes flee,
Yet to friends it'd be welcoming.
With my eyes, I could implore or beg,
For a scrap of food or a pat on the head.
The neatest thing is - is that I could see
In the dark of night, what there might be.
With my tail, I could express
The degree of my happiness.
And when I'd head out on the go,
My tail would wag, to and fro.
For all the ways that I can find
To put myself in a canine's mind,
It's quite plain to see,
My life as a dog would be grand indeed.
Copyright © Tanya Harrington | Year Posted 2012
The air is crisp, cold weather
that you can sink your teeth into.
It's midwinter with a brief break
between rainy weather fronts.
My fat limping dog and I have
got to get out of the house and
find some wildness.
He lets me know of his happiness
and I ignore his comment about hypocrites
as I put his leash on and
he drags me down the trail.
"How will we ever find wildness
under these conditions?"
he barks at me.
"Maybe this time boss?
Maybe this time you will let go?"
We walk down the trail by
the storm swollen stream and
hear the same question posed in the air.
The storm stream tries hard to break free
and wreck havoc, but,
the well engineered cement banks
give it nothing to grab hold of and it
careens on past to the sea, harmlessly.
The river's only hope to spread wildness
is another storm to raise its banks.
The grass above the banks is all of a kind,
easily mowed, and no threat to the asphalt
path we walk.
There is some hope of wildness
in the windblown debris
left over from the storm.
Perhaps seeds of a hardier folk
will move in among the grasses and
the perfect line of trees
that border the trail.
Such strangers will have to hide
and take cover before the caretakers
of the trail arrive tomorrow.
They will efficiently find all wildness
from the storm and make sure that
it is all discarded and hauled to the dump.
Perhaps I am looking for nature
in all the wrong places.
Here it has been collared and leashed
and rendered docile.
Still it fights back.
My hopeful dog directs my attention to the stream
and points to an otter that sinks when I look.
"Maybe this time, boss?" he implores.
Overhead, three noisy geese, free as you please,
as insolent as if they were twenty,
announce their imminent landing
at the county water control pond.
Not all of us are on a leash yet.
Copyright © ahellas Alixopulos | Year Posted 2008
A tattered afghan thrown about,
All rumpled and askew.
The sleepy dog makes up his bed,
Then dreams sweet dreams of you.
He stirs upon his makeshift cot,
Exploring places, he'd ought not.
Now free to give the cat no peace,
To race and chase without the leash.
He twitches, whines and runs in place,
As if not bound by time and space.
Now in a land we cannot share,
Released, set free and happy there.
He chases squirrels, balls and sticks,
Then wakes exhausted from such tricks.
This double life our good friends lead,
Both here with us and in their dreams.
Those many hours dogs sleep each day,
Are filled with sport and endless play.
The time then left, until their end;
God bids them keep - as man's best friend.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015
< cakes and sausages on hot griddle
uncle Leroy's dam dog just piddled
slipped ~ slide across floor
grabbed shotgun by front door
now dam ole dog just plays an fiddle
bow bow bow bow bow bow bow bow ~ wow
ow ow ow ow ow ow ow bow ~ ow
with tail between own ~ legs
now dog sings ~ and ~ brags
about cousin's daisies's bad bow ~ pows
Entry For John Freeman's
Slapstick Limerick Contest
Poor Ole Dog LOL
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
All I remember is going into the garage to get the snow shovel.
I am not even sure how much of the driveway I managed to shovel. Apparently, I was lying in the snow for several hours before one of the neighbors noticed me.
The next thing I remember is waking up from a deep sleep to the sounds of beeping machines with tubes and wires stuck into and on my body.
As I slowly regained consciousness and my eyes were able to focus, I was aware of a young, bald child looking down on me.
“Hi,” said the smiling, angelic face. Given the child’s age and complete baldness, I could not tell whether they were a boy or a girl. And, with the tube inserted in my throat and taped to my mouth, I was in no position to return their salutation.
I tried to remember who this child might be and why they were here with me. I guess my eyes displayed my confusion as the child said, “I'm Elizabeth. They let me walk around the hospital a little. Sometimes I sneak out of the oncology wing and look for people who have no visitors. I like to make sure someone is there when they wake up. I know I always like to see someone when I wake up from my operations.”
She just stood above me smiling. I then noticed she was holding my hand.
“Sometimes it is hard for family members or friends to come visit. Some people just really don’t like hospitals. And, I guess”, she said, “not everybody has someone that close to them. So, I like to become their visitor for them. I hope you don’t mind.”
I didn’t mind. Although it did make me embarrassed to realize that I fit in the latter category; I didn’t have anybody that close to me.
She just smiled at me and petted my hand as the medications worked their magic on me and I started to drift back off to sleep. I heard a nurse come into the room and say, “There you are, Honey. You need to get back to your room now and leave this nice man be.”
The next time I regained consciousness, I noticed a hand drawn picture of a house with a Christmas tree out front with a note that said, “I hope you get home before Christmas” and was signed by Elizabeth.
Each new day, I was welcomed by another drawing of Christmas scenes; smiling faces; reindeer; and, starry skies. All containing a happy note and all signed, ”Love, Elizabeth”.
After ten days of recovery and following the insertion of two stents into my heart, I was well enough to return to my empty home. On my way out of the hospital, I stopped by the Oncology Wing to say good-bye and thank you to Elizabeth. When I asked the nurse at the floor station where I could find Elizabeth, she replied, “Oh I'm sorry, Elizabeth is no longer with us.”
I then said, “Well can you tell me her home address or phone number, I would really like to thank her for visiting me in my hospital room this past week.”
The look on the nurse’s face indicated that I misunderstood what she had meant. Elizabeth was no longer with us.
Sadly, I started walking towards the exit.
Just before I got to the elevator, I noticed an open door with a man lying on his bed, with tubes in his nose and throat and nobody else in the room with him. I went into his room and sat in the empty chair.
When he opened his eyes two hours later, I said, “Hi, I'm Joe. I noticed there was nobody here when you were brought back from your operation and I know how nice it is to see a smiling face when you wake up, so I thought I would sit here with you for a while. I hope you don’t mind.”
He squeezed my hand; gave a slight smile; and, slowly drifted off back to sleep.
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2012
Where did the dogness(soul) go?
Nowhere subtract one dog
Bad dreams whimpering
Restless sleep~"Rocky, wake up."
Asleep rest in peace
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2011
Life with Snickers
(four short poems in one)
our one-year-old dog
lapping up toilet water -
what a potty mouth
That dog is also into smut;
he likes to sniff poor kitty’s butt.
He hears my slightest movements in the kitchen.
His paws appear at the counter where I’m preparing food.
Later, Snickers comes to me. In his mouth he bears a rope.
He wants to play that silly game I dread.
He stares at me, big brown eyes filled with hope.
Tug of war I play with him. When it’s time for bed,
The cat and I can’t rest till Snickers has laid down his head.
Written 11/4/15 for the "A Poet's Dozen" Poetry Contest of the Silent One
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
Oh, I sit upon my porch, just to get a bit of breeze,
On the north side of my house, under over-hanging trees.
I feel so contented here, with my good dog at my feet.
At my age it takes so little, to make a life complete.
Dear ones have gone before, and will meet me at the shore
When I leave this earthly home and don't need it any more.
For now my work is over, I can rest this sumer day
And feel pity for my neighbor in the meadow making hay.
The breeze is growing cooler, and the dog is getting bored.
I'll soon be in my bedoom just a chatting with the Lord.
I was a busy fellow and I worked hard all my life
I rased some boys and girls and I had a darling wife.
I saved a little money and I sometimes go to see
My children who have settled in the west aways from me.
I am always glad to get back to my little valley home.
The older that I get the less inclined I am to roam.
So I sit upon my porch, just to get a bit of breeze,
On the north side of my house, under over-hanging trees.
I reckon there's no other fellow more content than I
In my small home in the valley, where I'll stay until I die.
By: Joyce Johnson 2007
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012
After the Autumn of my life I hope the mention of my memory will include a smile.
Contest Name - One Liners
Sponsor - Silent One
Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2015
Springtime fills the air,
like laughing gas.
(Or maybe more like whiskey.)
The suburbs are drunk on the nectar of it's dawn.
are starting to dance.
(Or maybe they're just wobbling.)
They vomit whole families onto their lawn.
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV:
Confused and intrigued,
with a slight urge to pee.
The father cuts grass,
like a sleepwalker.
(Or maybe more like a zombie -
Ravenous for cheap beer, instead of brains.)
A six pack later,
he starts washing his car.
(Or watering his driveway.)
He's spreading on wax so he's set when it rains.
The mother kneels in dirt,
tending the garden.
(More like digging in a sandbox.)
Her spade is rusty. (Figuratively, at least.)
A sunset later,
she cooks family dinner.
(Or maybe orders some pizza.)
(If every mouth is fed, she can call it a feast.)
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV.
The son plays war games,
dying for fun.
(Or maybe more for practice.)
He whines about fruit drinks, as well as the heat.
A full pitcher later,
tweaking on sugar,
(Or maybe just corn starch.)
the war escalates, 'til its time to go eat.
The daughter makes a picnic,
inviting her toys.
(Or maybe not.)
(Her plastic spread can only spread so thin!)
After the tea time,
she's off picking flowers.
(Or maybe weeds.)
(As long as they're pretty, there's a vase that they'll fit in.)
They gather, as a family, at the table to say grace.
They hold each others' hands and say, "Amen."
(And proceed to stuff their face.)
The dog sits by the boy -
Loyal and true.
(Or maybe just hungry.)
He drools as he stares from the corners of his eyes.
he offers to help with the dishes.
(Or maybe he demands it.)
The boy sneaks him a bite. The dog is not surprised.
Bedtime comes soon after.
The kids are sent to brush their teeth.
(Or maybe just to run the sink.)
They put on their jammies, and to bed, they go.
After tucking them in,
the parents watch TV.
(Or maybe they just dream they do,
sleeping in its glow.)
The dog is changing channels,
looking for a better show.
Confused and intrigued,
he pees on the carpet below.
Copyright © John Taylor | Year Posted 2010
Try me, fool, and the semi gon' bang
I'm a big dog, I gotta' let my nuts hang
If I go to jail, best believe I'm bonding out
I always handle beef, that's what I'm all about
I'm not a punk, somebody lied--
I'm bustin' shots, let's get that fixed
Sleep on me, see me in ya' worst nightmares
I'm Hell-raiser, dead fresh in some Nike-Airs
Or in a monkey suit, totin' something with a banana clip
Leave you wet, like dry lips after applying Chap-stick
Ain't talking 'bout a blunt, but I rolled-up
I'm gon' wet these fools, hope they don't mold-up
When it go down, I go ape-shit, bananas
put coward to sleep, without the pajamas
Keep bustin' shots, like pimples on a maturing teen
I do my dirt, but leave the crime scene clean
Stay fresh, but they always call me grimy
They say I'm too gangsta', so they won't sign me
I put in work, man, I'm clockin' in overtime
Haters faces looking sour, like they suckin' on lime
You got beef, well guess what, that's all I eat
I stand my ground, you just sit in your seat
Can't let fools run me over, I'm not a roadkill
Leave you in the streets leakin', looking like an oil spill
You got a problem, I know how'tta' get that solved
Apply pressure, let's not get ya' family involved
Copyright © Arcene Janvier | Year Posted 2013
My dog Tommy
Used to ask for food
Shaking his head and tail!
Copyright © Asif Andalib | Year Posted 2011
< tell me now Who ! Who ! ~ Let The Dogs Out ?
bet Carolyn pulling them by snouts ......
fleas ... ticks.... she started to itch /////
screaming sons of a ....... b .i...t...c....h
poor neighbor's dog now takes different route
The DogGone Dog Contest
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2010