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Quatrain Animal Poems | Quatrain Poems About Animal

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What's In The Urn

           What’s In The Urn

Strangers offered me to join them in a drink
I met them on a mountain edge while skiing
They seemed like friendly normal people then
So what could happen in a simple cabin?

Finding that which is not there or vanquished
What is there that cannot be perceived?
Placed upon the mantel piece are ashes in the cabin
Brass vase, a receptacle for lost souls sits in repose

A death vase to glare at over cognac
By the sober flames cast by
A fire place glow observed in action
Liquid spirits pour out their poison

In the cozy living room inside the cabin
Drinks alone cannot remove this feeling of distraction
The urn is piercing through my soul
People belong in cemeteries you know

With all due respect for the dead
Scatter them at sea when they‘re deceased
Not paraded around in gloom to cause unease
Or as a center piece for living rooms 

I’m not relieved to find it is a lizard on the shelf
To be exact, an exotic iguana family friend entombed 
And to assume that fact makes this matter optimal 
I beg to differ on that point and voice my opinion later

There must be a plot of ground outside 
Or toilet somewhere to flush it down
But better left unsaid, as they are bereaved about the death
And I am their invited guest

Iguana tried consuming the family’s cat
Another favorite  pet
It is surmise, that’s how it met its end
Ended up expired inside the urn
                                                                              
The receptacle was there and going nowhere on its own
I swear it follows me from room to room
By embers glow and ash, shadowing my every move
A brass smile casting off the urn, leaving me concerned 

I could not take my leave
The container followed me
So I waited, fixated on the thing
Is it coming back to life to eat more bugs or me?

Finding that which is not there
Is easier in the dark                                                                                     
Rising to the occasion of the day that breaks
I must escape the premises to continue skiing 

Into the frozen world outside I fly
With no discernible signs or paths to lead or learn
I get away, no time to say good-byes or find my way
Never again will I say; what’s in the urn

Copyright © Earl Schumacker

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The Wise Old Owl

The wise old owl has come today
To train a  young one in the way
Of all the things that it should know
So he can hoot and wisely grow

He'll show this one just what to do
So on it's own it'll fly so true
It's prey will never have a chance 
When it swoops down in it's death dance

He'll soar the skies,he'll  hide from view
He'll do the things he's been taught to do
Before you know it he'll be all grown
He'll be teaching others that are his own

But for right now he'll  have to learn
Of all these things til it's his turn
So that when he's older he will be
The wise old owl on a teaching spree

Copyright © Charles Reese

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Nature

Nature

As I walk through the forest
I hear the silence of the wood
Nature is at contest
Where beasts once stood

The wind rustling the trees
Shaking to the ground
Earth creeping with weeds
Smell nature all around

Creatures climbing high
Beasts burrowing deep
No birds in the sky
Cause nature to weep

As the one on two arrives
And takes nature in threes
Those on four will not survive
Save the five he never sees

This new beast that comes
And ploughs the land
Nature come undone
By this one hand

All the animals they scatter
To lands far and wide
As nature begins to shatter
Turn, to run and hide

Blood spills over the earth
From this hand that strikes
Against nature's last birth
The cry that fills the nights

As the earth turns to mud
I hear the silence of death
With a resounding thud
Nature takes it's last breath

As man turns and walks away
His unholy quest now done
Head hung low in dismay
For now in nature there is none

Falling to his knees
Precious air has gone
Along with the trees
Natures vengeance is long

Too late does man learn
That nature holds all
These things that he yearns
And by ignorance he'd fall

His body by earth reclaimed
To bring about new life
Man's name once shamed
Nature, reborn without strife

Copyright © Sean Taylor

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Sympathy by Briton Riviere

The little girl sat alone on the step Thinking of what she had said and done Sad and alone, she needed a friend Gladly there appeared just the one A cold nose and a friendly lick Her dog snuggled up without question As always he needed no explanations There with the greatest of canine affection
Inspired by his 1878 picture- Sympathy go to Allposters.com/

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick

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The coward man is

Isn't it funny, the coward man is...
Calls himself the apex predator...
Yet scared as a puppy he'll wizz...
Without his hand held terminator...

We fight bulls and cry glory...
While we blind and maim...
To ensure our victory...
By crippling till lame...

Big cats and bears...
Detoothed and declawed...
For he who dares...
To pit dog to be mauled...

Standing with aim from afar...
In the distance his quarry stands proud...
Earths growing battle scar...
His fanfare to the cheering crowd...

If man was no coward...
He'd face this beast alone...
Moving ever forward...
With a dulcet tone...

He'd need no tool of death...
His awe would tenfold...
At the width and breadth...
Of the beauty that nature does hold...

Oh what cowards we are...
To feel superior if only...
We hold the card...
That makes the wild so lonely...

But what greatness we'd have...
To lower and humble ourselves...
At the mighty beasts grave...
Our grief would turn sand to salve...

We cowards that kill...
Abuse and defile and destroy...
And yet this earth will ever still...
Give life to all manner of girl and boy...

So cowards, it is time...
To stand tall and throw off...
The mantle without spine...
And say, today it's enough...

We cowards that were...
Shall kill no thing...
Resurrect and prosper...
All that is living ...

And cowards no more...
We of human race...
Shall love all score...
Of sentient trace...

Copyright © Sean Taylor

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My Animal

Alone or in a group, I can get by, and also I have friends of whom I’m fond. It’s even possible that I would die for one with whom I shared a special bond. I’m speaking as a dolphin. Could you guess? Of all God’s animals, that is the one that shares its traits with me, for I possess intelligence, and also I am fun! One skill of mine that I appreciate is shared by dolphins. Though my sounds aren’t “clicks,” I have the talent to communicate, and like the dolphin, I can learn good tricks! How fun to jump the waves like dolphins do! Inside warm currents I would swim and play. Beneath the deep blue ocean, I could view its beauties, roaming freely every day. Some dolphins have saved humans from a chase by sharks! The kindest creatures of the sea are those that have a smile fixed on their face! As sweet as they, a dolphin I would be.
By Andrea Dietrich for Kristen Bruni's Contest: "If I was Animal What Would I Be"

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

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Mulligan

Well, here I am sitting on the golf course
Watching the fireworks display overhead
Yes, I know I'm not as big as a horse
But at least one golfer I have misled

“Kerplunk"came the ball, bouncing off my shell
Casting it deep in the adjoining woods
That’s when I heard someone yell, “Mulligan”
They ran toward the golfer like a band of hoods

I was wondering how they knew my name
As they all ran toward the errant golf ball
And then banished the golfer from their game
Without asking if my shell had been mauled

There’s much food to be found on the golf course
So I still traverse many a fairway
But it never ceases to surprise me
How my name’s called when e’er balls go astray

Luckily my shell is hard as granite
Golf ball injuries I never sustain
So my Mulligan family moved here
Friendly golfers already know our name




*Written July 20, 2014 and inspired by the time my sister’s ball bounced off a 
turtle’s back and into the woods.  She’s a two-time hole in one gal, so this was 
not a funny story for her.
Wikipedia definition of "Mulligan" - In golf, a mulligan is a stroke that is replayed from the spot of the previous stroke without penalty, due to an errant shot made on the previous stroke. The result is, as the hole is played and scored, as if the first errant shot had never been made. This practice is disallowed entirely by strict rules and players who attempt it or agree to let it happen may be disqualified from sanctioned competitions.



Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire

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The Snail


The little snail made his way across the walk
Proudly carrying his brown house upon his back
I stopped to watch him so slowly inch along
Cringing at the sticky goo that marked his track

I admit I smiled, thought him cute in his own way
As he finally made his way into the flower garden
Wondering if he even had a thought or two at all
Or just ate my plants without my grudging  pardon




Copyright © Barbara Gorelick

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In the Meadow

Cows bellow, low, heads between rails
such large deep sad eyes, such full bags.
For whom do they await, no one home
to let them out, share out their milk.

Not long ago I saw you wandering off with him
his hand caressing your neck, gripping your arm
holding you stiff, obedient to his will
and you were bound to follow, no sound

escaped your lips, and me, why am I watching
for the scene to play out? Don’t we all know
don’t we all grieve, for the coming of that day
when cowl slips down, the bellow, low aches.

You won’t come home, will you my dear.
I guess I paid the right price for a job well done
Your cheating heart won’t bestir us to wait
Never more.  This farm is sold outright.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper

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My Dog named Shiva

My dog, named Shiva

I had a dog, named Shiva
So very long ago
Then one day I did grieve her
The tears how they did flow

We used to walk for miles
Us two, Shiva and I
Oh how she fills my heart with smiles
As the days they pass me by

My Shiva she took ill one day
My best friend she did die
My days oh, how they turned so grey
As in death she did lie

A dog is such a wonder
Mans best friend he be
My heart it felt like thunder
I was in such misery

When I was sad and miserable
So loving she would be
Oh, Shiva was so wonderful
I adored her endlessly.

17 November 2014

Copyright © Peter Duggan

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My Great Grandpa

Great Grandpa Zerbst, I wish was here
I'd like him still around
He had a herd of Hereford cows
His farmin' sense was sound

He passed away when I was young
I'd only seen him twice
But even though his life was rough
I'm sure that he was nice

At first, he had some horse-drawn rigs
To grow his crop of wheat
A tractor then, in place of them
That had a metal seat

He had a herd of ninety cows
A huge Wyomin' spread
But now a herd of oil-rigs
Are drillin' in their stead

A lot of things Great Grandpa knew
From distant Germany
But now these things I wish I knew
Are buried 'neath a tree

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst

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Dear Inconsiderate

You’re always dragging on me--
got your sticky icky leavings all
pver the place, 
any place most inconvenient.

Always kind of spooky, nervous
but defiant too, back up
step out, get nose to nose
as if to say you’re here for good.

I know it’s you, at night, tasting
my eyes, making me wiggle
and a little itchy
squirmy but never squished, somehow…

One day there’s one of you,
lurking in a corner, the next, a window,
under floorboards, cupboards, skittering

all over my floor and ceilings
and in my clothes so when I undress
there you are, sitting like a star
right on my breast. Okay. I needed that.

To scream. Whack at something
so terribly invasive, biting,
so terribly unobtrusive, until
you leave your icky sticky leavings

as bumps all over me. When 
were you walking over me, in the dark
while I dreamed, taking over 
saying I’m a leaving little spider left.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper

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Winter Woods

Winter wears
a warm white coat,
and wraps a scarf
around her throat.

She knits the trees
lacy white caps,
and carpets with snow,
growing things that nap.

Then in the morning,
when hungry creatures wake,
she fills their bowls
with frosted flakes.

Copyright © Darlene Gifford

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Our Cow

We bought a cow at the state fair 
and loaded her on the truck
to take her home, but halfway there
we had a stroke of good luck.

We hit a rock, and from the crash
she bounced away down the hill,
she mooed and made an awful splash
in the stream beside the mill.

The water was still awful cold,
the cow already freezing…
resisting as we roped and pulled
her breathing turned to sneezing.

My father said this won’t end well,
he couldn’t have been more wrong.
He thought the cow, we ought to sell
but changed his mind before long.

We took her home, our shook up cow, 
unloaded her in the barn.
We thought we’d let her sleep for now
then see to her in the morn’.

The next day, just around sunrise,
the cow already awake.
I milked, and to my great surprise,
I got a frozen milkshake! 

05/02/15

Copyright © The Grahamburglar

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For Survival or Greed? (Co-written with James Fraser)

Note:  Following a rash of local breakins, thieves murdered two people who happened to be 
at home when they entered.  This event produced a lot of anxiety for me and James was 
kind enough to help divert my attention by joining in this write.  Many thanks to James, Tim 
and Dane Ann for their support during this difficult time. -- Carolyn




     A hungry gray feline sees a mouse; quickly does she pounce
     Instincts come into play as jungle creatures eye their prey
     Natural selection rules the vast animal kingdom
     By striking fast they earn the right to live another day 
 
We read in the papers and we watch on the news
As I look out my window, and ponder man's thoughts
What do we see, through our eyes as we view
Our ability to kill and leave one's life nought
 
     Complicated survival games play out each strenuous day
     From the frigid Arctic tundra to torrid dark jungles
     Beasts on the prowl are trekking nature's intended path
     Another victim falls as distant thunder rumbles 
 
Opportunists linger as the perpetrators dare
Man stalking down dark alleys and dimly-lit streets
Confronted, accosted in criminal stare 
Where the innocents in danger, generally meet
 
     Other members of the animal kingdom have no choice
     They slay only to keep themselves and their families alive
     But it's man who plays the most dangerous of games
     Killing for thrill, politics or greed; how can man survive?
 
It's the evil of man who takes what he wants
With the blade of a knife, with his terror taunts
His escalation from flint to gun
This most wonderful world in masculine haunt
 
     If man continues to develop harsh weapons
     The skies may explode in carnivorous fashion
     Consuming not just one animal species, but all
     Leaving angels to mourn the death of God's creations

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire

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Who Murdered the Easter Bunny

Sam, the box turtle, sauntered down deserted gravel road;
when he bumped into Elli, a gorgeous, slender, green toad.
Together they stopped to admire the rustic scenery;
noting, Bunny would like hiding eggs in all that greenery.

Easter will be in a few weeks, kids will have fun hunting eggs;
Bunny would be quite busy hopping on two spindly legs.
Sadie, a monarch butterfly fluttered into their path;
she was perched on a tree branch taking her daily sun bath.

“Hi!” she said to Sam and Sadie. “Have you heard hottest news?
The Easter Bunny was murdered, on the headline reviews.”
Sam and Sadie were speechless, much too shocked to say the least;
who murdered the Easter Bunny, who was the wicked beast?

No one could think of anyone who wanted Bunny killed,
the whole town was suspected, everyone thoroughly grilled.
It couldn’t be Sam or Sadie; they were not at the scene;
whoever it was, they were desperate, extremely mean.

Small town sheriff investigated the deadly crime site;
there lay Bunny sprawled along the roadside, eggs colored bright.
Struck down by angry mother hawk, thought he robbed her love nest;
sheriff pulled out the handcuffs, placed mother under arrest.

Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey

Copyright © Caryl Muzzey

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RUMOR HAS IT


1.
Rumor has it on heavens above
Among the angels’ divine sphere
That God after very much though  
Decided in man’s life to interfere     

2.
For He has observed Man’s mistakes 
Which lately too many came to be
To endanger the whole of creation 
Act with which God can never agree

3.
So the Lord has most recently chosen  
The book of life before long to reprint 
Revising certain of its very old chapters 
While others out will leave, He has hint  

4.
The concern of humans is now to know      
Which chapters the book will not contain, 
Which are going to be, somehow, revised 
And which intact will forever remain 

5.
What was heard through the vine though,   
It was Man’s huge and unbearable vanity 
That made our almighty Lord and creator 
To finally exclude the chapter of humanity  

6.
The reason our God in His infinitive wisdom
Reached such unexpected for Mankind conclusion 
Is the fact that Man during his reign on earth
Has hurt our planet with his insensitive intrusion

7.
It might still be time for Man overall to be saved    
If he started correcting his many mistakes soon
Beginning by respecting life and the whole planet  
And stop behaving as a dim-witted buffoon.  


© Demetrios Trifiatis
   17 APRIL 2014


* According to UN’s most recent report (March 2014) “We  are in an era where 
climate change isn’t some kind of future hypothetical,” said Chris Field, one of 
the  two main authors of the report, and Rajendra Pachari chair of the IPCC 
(Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) added: “Nobody on this planet 
is going to be untouched by climate change.” For that UN suggested measures 
to be taken immediately for to save the planet.
 Moreover, the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences ( PNAS), 
announced that  " Researchers have found out that pollutants are strengthening storms ...plus endanger the health of people."

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis

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The tigress' mark

She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.

The ominous reflection of moon 
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.

Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.

Her claws prophesy of vengeance 
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency 
for a soul's annihilation. 

Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.

Copyright © Robyn Thomas

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Let Them Eat Cake

Never a girl 
so pretty as she
hair in pink curls
& a bunny called Dee

So happy together
always best friends
no matter the weather
they'd play til the end

A sweet tooth she had
whipped, frosted & candy coated
it all made her glad
& sometimes even bloated

It happened one Sunday
in the morning she'd wake
they'd all hear her say
"Let them eat cake!"

Copyright © Lizzy Love

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The Trolls Come Out At Night

Some cat entered my room one night I thought it was a ghost It smelled like something had just died But I must oblige my guest as the host I turned on the light and there it was An obnoxious opossum at best! Whoa! Forget my host duties, cous! Take the room—I’m an unhappy guest! I left the house with a shutter Before I realized I was heavily surrounded By cats on all sides, up and under The house they had all just rounded! In truth I was perturbed on all levels That I began to realize in horror That damn opossum had spawned these little devils! And tonight I must end this terror! I then ran straight to the kitchen Aware of the opossum inside If I give up the tuna and ditch um’ Perhaps I’ll escape this night alive The persistent cats scratched at the holes Those buggers—those meddlers! They could have been thieves—if not trolls! Their yowls would scare sumo wrestlers! Worst of all in this dilemma Tomorrow was grocery day There were no more cans of tuna All my fish had swam away! Somehow one got in And the rest came barreling through I ran toward my room to him The opossum looked so distressed and blue The little beady eyes pierced my soul And I knew from then on he was my friend He only meant to hide from the furry little trolls And escape a most pitiful end! I made up my mind at last And picked up my trusty broom Come on in—I dare yah tah pass! Ain’t no feline coming through this room! Glowing eyes burned with intent And the yowling grew loud as hell The little bullies think they can take my guest! They’ll fly like birds they will! That night was a battle like none other A battle I will proudly say I won I gained the friend of my life—a brother My pet’s a load of fun! As much as I love a neighbor cat They are a little scary as a race Thankfully a broom will push them back And put them in their place My opossum is a sweet little thing And I protect him with my life I’ll never judge a critter again Till actions bring it to light

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

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The kings of the night

The seemingly tranquil sky
blooming with stars soon
pierced by a distant cry
that seems to swoon.

Beneath dense trees standing tall
to touch dark canvas painted
after dusk, prowls the epiphany of all
mother nature’s tainted.

The wise are often alone
and the dangerous hated, 
but they express in moan
their solitude, once more grated.

Gradually their voices unite
in a song across the valley, 
seeming to smite
all of innocence’s nest.

The moon in her splendour moves
to comfort the carnivores that commence, 
and yet her beam soothes
not the beasts’ sense.

Torn between wrong and right
the moon spreads her swanlike wings amidst
the howls of her lovers, the kings of the night…
among the wolves in the mist. 

Copyright © Robyn Thomas

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He's of Zero Worth

(I'd Pay a Million)

He's an ordinary gray, long and lean,
relieved by ashen whiskers and chin.
A perfect white 'V' marks his breast
and one snowy paw mocks the rest.

What is he worth to this old friend
when dozens can be had of his kind?
Some are more worthy of love and trust
and others are spared his hoary crust.

But daily I treasure his sweet purr
and gently stroke his ordinary fur.
I rest my eyes on his rangy form
and rue the day when he'll be gone.





Copyright © Cona Adams

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Golden Retrievers



For those who've never owned a dog Your life has been missing a treat The greatest feeling ever known to man The epitome of love at your feet Most loyal companion we've ever known Our Golden Retriever is that The most happy joyful disposition ever We learn a lot from this fact In spite of all of our many problems These guys are always there They cheer us up and help us realize Life's simple secret is to share Share the love that's in everyone's heart Nothing's more important in life Doggies know, pay attention my friends Their loyalty gets rid of our strife © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison

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Christmas Joy

Early one Christmas morn
my eyes flew open wide,
found no gifts under the tree
so I ran to look outside.

Everywhere, on the ground
lay mounds of fluffy snow
and parked right in front,
topped with a big red bow,

was my trusty old wagon
full of presents galore.
Four eyes peeked out and
made my emotions soar.

Two furry little playmates
to fill the hours of my days
full of love and amusement
with their wild, playful ways.

Copyright © Cona Adams

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Aging Heart

Time runs fast when we are young,
As fast as human eyes can blink.
Turn away and there it goes,
What youth we have will slowly sink.

It runs with legs that won’t tire
So that your aging heart may sleep.
Close your eyes and let it fall,
The fruits you’ve reaped are yours to keep.

Does the river dry when you
Have passed the rapids of this ride?
Open your eyes so you may see
The world you’re bound to on this tide.

Copyright © Eric Thomas

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The Synathroesmic Cow

Kooky cow,short- horned with humped back from east,
Thick white furs spotted like the jungle beast,
Your long brownish-black tail drives off the flies,
Thanks! O` egret for picking off  its lice.

Slow chewing of cuds deep into the night,
Legs shaking, teeth grinding a normal  rite,
Grass cutting diastema with mucus nose,
dripping down slowly to add to this  dose.

All-day your body moves  rickety  way,
Sluggishly lying down  like potter`s clay,
Milk oozing from a brown nipple big breast,
Rancid and congealed on the skin like crest.



CONTEST:"The Synathroesmic Cat" sponsored by Suzanne Delaney

Copyright © olusegun Arowolo

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Cat

Black cat lays on low fence wall,
veiled in cover of night.
Spell broken by owners call,
evenings victims respite.

Copyright © Bonchance Longfall

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She Doesn't Know She's a Dog

Her name is Apogee Sausalito,
she is tiny, feisty and black;
when she romps with Tricia,
she thinks she's a cat.

The crafty feline hides
on the dining room chair;
'round and 'round the table,
the dog circles her there.

Behind the tablecloth,
the cat keeps watch;
reaches out with her paw,
and gives S'Lito a swat.

It's a game they both love;
each day's regular routine,
we enjoy their frisky antics
with morning coffee and cream.

Copyright © Cona Adams

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Man's Bestest Friend



Golden Retrievers are the bestest friends They'll love you no matter what Even if you've just had the worst day ever These charmers your heart will touch Their wagging tails are a good indication You're their favourite supplier of love They're also aware you're a supplier of food There's no higher friendship above They're the bestest friend a man can have They trust you to the nth degree Treat them kindly, they're almost like people Except when they need to pee Then they cross their eyes and cross their legs And dance back and forth, to and fro But they never complain, just motor along Unless of course you react to slow Golden Retrievers are the bestest friends They'll love you no matter what They'll love you even if the sky's falling down The bestest damn friend you've got © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison

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Uninvited Guests

Early this morning, I found,
much to my chagrin,
the flowers in my garden
were as if they’d never been.

Bitten off above the soil,
green stubs left aground.
Mad enough to spit nails,
I fussed and stomped around.

It was easy to discover,
who the culprits were.
They left telling evidence
indented in the dirt there.

Their hoof prints tracked
all around the flowerbed;
no blossoms for my soul today,
food in their stomachs instead.


Copyright © Cona Adams