These Dog Life poems are examples of Life poems about Dog. These are the best examples of Dog Life poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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.
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~
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
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 ~
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.
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
Such a stupid dog...
(Not nearly as smart as me)
You just wag your tail
Refusing to face the fact
That life is complicated...
< 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
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.
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.