came buzzing by
to rest and munch
and eat his lunch
and have some fun
on the hound dog's
The old dog
without a clue
in the noontime heat
of the August
by piles of leaves
in dappled shade
of the apple tree,
where an apple fell
and the flies said "yum"
and the bees would hum
and the dog would yawn.
That lazy bone
won't fetch a stick,
or scratch his neck
or care a lick
about a neighbor's cat,...
will prance around,
will tease and taunt
the weary hound,
who naps so sound
Hound has no pep
to take a step
against his back,
and sticks her nose
up to his snout,
sticks up her tail
He hardly cares
that she is there.
She preens and cleans
her own black spots,
She stares at him
he stares right back,
with one eye open,
one eye shut
He'll stretch a bit
and scratch a lot
but it's too
not a lie.
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless.
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger.
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
“…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death!
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive.
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought.”
Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2013
Some folks call me a sausage dog
I think they couldn’t be meaner
It’s not my fault I’m long and short
And look like a misshapen wiener
I’ve got four stumpy little legs
So my tummy is near to the ground
My owner’s take me for a drag not a walk
Guess that's why they named me Cigarette!
Contest: Dachshunds – Rob Carmack
~awarded 9th place~
Premiere Contest #13 sponsored by SKAT
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
Everything here is true
Just as stated
because it's already happened
or - it has yet to occur -
but it's very soon to occur
and I have such strong feeling
that the future will be as I see it
as you read this
that in the end I will be proven right.
You are that occurrence
you are happening
and I think you will understand.
Love is a dog
on a chain
in a muddy yard
on a cold day
in a silent town
where the land slopes
down to a river.
It's the end of autumn
or the beginning of winter
and the silence is tidal
and you know that things are not right
under the sky of hard iron
between all the old buildings
of red faded brick
that were made when labor and materials were cheap.
Big old buildings all squares and rectangles
tenements that saw many families
hotels of a prior age
offices where she used to work
where he ran the elevator
where they came and went
but now nobody is walking
no vehicles move on the streets
it was just me.
And the dog.
There is more about the place
it could have been in a movie
with the camera panning around
capturing aspects of vertigo and dread
a province of scary infirmity
that makes you think
you are dreaming
because you've had dreams before
and you've seen horror movies before
but you know there's no such escape
not a dream not a movie
and the dog is real.
Lonely. Thirsty. Hungry. Cold.
It wasn't always that way
not the dog
not the town.
Long ago the Continental Army
was headquartered here
in the American Revolution
and the city thrived
into the future
lots of transportation
through the 1800s
but then river traffic fell to almost nothing
railroads and trucks took over
companies and people moved south and overseas
and the town grew quiet.
Now it's the cold season
the silence of an endless cold season
almost monochromatic under that iron sky
all black and white or in-between
except for the fading red
of the bricks in those big old buildings.
This is where the owners
love the dog part of the time.
This is where a pigeon steps
on a little discarded plastic ring
from a jug of milk
and the ring stands up
above the ground
where a cold wind blows torn candy wrappers around your feet
near the chain link fences
the dirty concrete with moss growing in the cracks
where branches show against the sky
from dark tree trunks
by the wrought metal fence
that has caught a plastic bag
that was blown by the wind.
You feel the lack
the absence of bird calls
coming down in rivulets and chips of silver
showing they are alive.
It's not to be this day
the silence holds sway
life seems more of an echo.
Any faint smile
of the sun
shows false in the shadows.
The dog didn't make a sound either.
I'm tempted to end right here
we haven't really gotten to the love part yet.
Sure - maybe they loved the dog some
maybe the owner was sick or old
or just couldn't care for it much anymore
or they had grown up and moved away
while the dog remained.
Long ago there was the Telephone Company of New York
and through buyouts, governmentally enforced divestitures, and mergers
it later became Metropolitan Telephone and Telegraph Company
then American Bell Telephone Company
New York Telephone
and now we know it as Verizon.
The dog was real.
The town is Newburgh, New York, USA
and it does slope down to a river
the Hudson River
and the old buildings
I was there in the late 1990s
when it was called NYNEX and then Bell Atlantic.
The old telephone building still had the places
where the switchboard operators
would sit with earphones on
listening to call requests, or
they manually plugged in wires
to connect incoming calls
with house telephones
in the local exchange.
A light would glow
on the bottom row
of their array
and they'd connect a wire
from the plug-in hole by the light
to number 0313 for example
if that was the number in the exchange
that the caller wanted.
The materials were beautiful
all the hardwoods
fiber, metal and cloth
that hadn't been used since
the late 1960s.
The lattices were still there
the wire pairs
for each number
ten thousand at a time
i.e. 0000 to 9999
those wire pairs
had their brackets
from where they went all the way to people's houses
the hard wired connection.
You're with me now
there's nobody else
nobody from the telephone company
and I have the door code for the electronic lock.
We exit the building
and the dog is looking at us
from the lonely cold muddy yard
behind the next old rectangle of faded red bricks
there is something there
not real hope
but dark eyes upon us
some wonder some... something...
The dog never makes a sound.
You see one of the shames of my life.
I go over to my truck and drive away.
It wasn't that the dog just couldn't make a sound.
It didn't quickly raise its head
it didn't jump up or
come toward me
as far as the chain would let it
or at least tilt its head
as if I might present some hope.
There is love
but it was so far away from that dog
that all was silent
the most terrible silence.
So now I'm a 57 year old man
sitting here crying because I could have gotten that dog a good home
or I could have called somebody who would do that
you should see me crying
or I could have just called somebody
or I could have gotten that dog something good to eat
and some water
oh dog I'm sorry
I could have knocked on the door
and asked about the dog
and offered to help
you should see me crying I'm a mess
I could have gone over
and hugged the dog
and said oh dog
you're a good dog
Copyright © Doug Vinson | Year Posted 2016
It never seems to amaze me
How stupid some people are
Whenever I am out
And take along my guitar.
''Is it a guitar'' people say
''No an ironing board''
I reply with dismay.
''Can you play it?''
''No I just carry it about for fun''
Even though it's a heavy one.
''Are they your dogs''
When out in town
''No'' I reply
''their someone else's
And I'm taking them back to get the ransomed money honey.''
After a while i's an annoyance and not that funny.
Peter Dome.copyright.2015. Oct.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2015
Ross still rides his Harley, if the weather's good.
Can't get away much, like he used to.
Thursday morning breakfast with the airplane guys,
Talking farm prices;
what the dog's been doing.
He can't stay long; she can't be alone.
"She's been fading lately.
Sixty years together and she doesn't know
who I am sometimes."
But the dog does.
He'll leave early, be home to fix her breakfast
when she wakes. She'll not be appreciative.
Doesn't think about the cost anymore,
to bent, arthritic body parts.
Sometimes she won't eat what he prepares.
But the dog will.
Ross doesn't hear the banter;
he's staring through his oatmeal bowl,
counting fearful minutes.
"How's Buddy," I ask?
Ross comes slowly back, eyes refocused.
"I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for that dog."
Copyright © Wayne Sapp | Year Posted 2010
What a wonderful day
I decided to give Peanut my four year old Yorkie a bath which of course he hates
I lathered him with baby shampoo and rinsed him off
Took him outside and dried him off with a towel
Then brushed him and dried him with the hair dryer
Oh, he looked so clean and beautiful with that long silver and golden hair
Decided to take some empty containers in the back shed
My husband mowed the yard this morning with lots of loose grass out on the yard
Which it was ok for him to roll
But it had rained at least two inches last week, so I have some standing water behind the shed
Guess where Peanut decided to go,
Yes into the standing water that is full of mud
So, guess what in the bath tub he goes again
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2014
ahhh…ripe red fruit….
baby….I can taste it
a bit tart yet so sweet
lingers on my tongue
for just one sip of you
with balmy summer sun
in the hush
of a sea side concerto
the toss of my hair
from your rough mans hands
and a sudden breeze
caught up in the sultry heat
of your contingence
you make me tremble
with incoherent sighs
and quivering thighs
sheer mad wanton cries
A tempest of lust
sand lingers like fairy dust
on our tanned skin
you tease me and tempt me
with breathless reverence
you are so alluring
untamed and sexy
(your virility beseeches my hunger)
and I want you
until I just can’t breathe
waves crash the shore
as you pummel the walls
of my tender heart
the soul of summer
wild wind and
taut tender dreaming
dipped rich in chocolate
pirouette upon my mouth
crimson and stained
from sensual lips cinched
with the only man
I have ever loved like I love you
you are my every dream
tropic air and palm fronds
our island aria
hidden from view
raw panting passion
my lover and my friend
my soul mate
a summer etched in my mind
to replay into eternity
and your brooding and evocative eyes
( I could not forget those days
if I tried )
my love…. we have yet to live this
and it is to my solemn regret
that I still have yet to touch you
these eyes gaze your distance
these summer strawberries ripen
while soft cherry lips wait
always for the promise of you…….
Written for Sir Johns Summer Celebration Contest :)
Copyright © Christie Moses | Year Posted 2009
June Second at the beach we played scrabble
He protested the use of “ode”
I told him of the “Ode to Billy Joe”
With friends we laughed the entire way home
And when they left, Daniel proposed
He tied a string 'round my finger, said it would be replaced by a ring
It was the Third of June
(another sleepy, sandy Florida day)
When Daniel picked me up for a dip in Dog Lake
I suggested we swim across
He was reluctant, but swam anyway
Reaching the middle of the lake
“I can’t make it,” he called to me
“You’re kidding,” I laughed, turning to see
Daniel splashing futilely
Although I tried to pull him to shore,
We crossed underwater plants
He must have thought they were snakes and broke away
Dark water with tannic acid
Where did he go? I screamed for help
The search was underway when paramedics arrived
Linking hands, everyone walked into the water
But it was Daniel’s friend Art who found his hand
“It was like he was reaching out to me,” he said
Of course, it was too late
My sweet man had met his fate
And I made a vow
Every June Third, I drive out to Dog Lake
Remembering the good times we shared
And praying Daniel found eternal rest
*Entry for Joann’s contest. True story.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2012
Tender pats of a grateful mum
Saved from deaths door and sure scorching
The heat and ash were so close to overpowering
When a savior reached out and lifted us to safety....
How can I say thankyou, you are my hero?
I have not words but an overflowing heart
I give what I have....a tender touch
As I wipe the dust from your eyes
**Written about a picture of a mother dog that was rescued along with her pups from a burning
building by a brave fireman. The mother dog licked his face tenderly to say thanks for your help!
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2011
Innocent days spent on the paths of Audubon Park.
A dark silhouette trailing my steps; a body guard
until a stick was thrown. Black tail flying in retrieval,
proudly returning to lay it at my feet.
Shadow was followed by his own silhouette
when he chased squirrels up the nearest oak tree.
Moss laden oaks, grown nearer the clouds since then.
Their towering forms black wraiths, monoliths -
painting the road in front of me.
In my mind I am running with Shadow,
waiting for my gifts of sticks.
He's barking and chasing squirrels until I say,
"Come on, boy. Let's go home."
Innocent days were untouched by sorrow.
I haven't walked those paths
or visited that park since the day
my Shadow could no longer follow me.
February 16th, 2016
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2016
Once I roamed through the woodlands
With my large old shepherd companion.
We walked fearless, through redwoods and pines,
Through vines and ferns
To the top of the Cross mountain.
There we stood gazing out over the hills
Covered with sage and lavender,
Over the tops of homes cream and salmon,
The tall buildings of cement and glass
On the shores of an emerald bay.
We made our way by the pampas grass
Onto the dunes and sands,
Felt the water spray of the waves
As they hurled onto the shores.
We walked freely then in the world
As only nature’s top predators can.
Gone now into ashes and into ground
My big dog is no more.
For now I have a little dog
Who jumps up anxiously for the treat in my hands.
When worried she barks and bears her teeth,
Or crouches down onto the ground.
No long walks into the forest deep
Or along its mossy paths.
To a coyote or cougar she would appear
As an easy light meal
And I fear I would not be able
To keep them away.
So, no more wandering freely
Through the grandeur of the land.
I no longer walk along the unpredictable sea
Where rogue waves crash and crush;
Where unforgiving and unfeeling forces flow.
So now we stand upon the cliffs
Behind the gray old redwood fence.
Once, I had a big dog and we walked freely
Along the glorious shores.
Now I keep my little dog close
And when a stranger knocks
We stay behind closed doors.
Copyright © linda milgate | Year Posted 2010
They are two peas in a pod....this pair having fun
I can't help but smile, as I sit on the steps
by the old front porch, watching them romp
on the cool green grass, in the warm winter sun
This sunny little boy, with the gold in his hair
And his funny best friend, wagging a tail here and there
Their spirits are one, it is hard to divide them,
And their souls seem half child, half canine, combining...
Running the length of the yard as they play,
Jumping the jumps as if one and the same
Dancing the dance as they wear out their game....
Shaking my head, I must ponder the bond
It's no wonder instead ...., as they're both gifts from God
Squeals of child laughter, as loud as he can
A wag of a tail, like a circular fan...
If the child could wag and his dog could holler
They would gladly trade places, I'll bet you a dollar
Two of a kind, with spirits to spare
That can cause one to laugh or pull out your hair !
From my perch by the porch, I'm watching them play
Love is so simple, at the end of the day
Filled by these moments, these small gifts from God
Love is so simple, as two peas in a pod
Here is a sample, just watch it unwind...
Just as God made them...they are two of a kind........
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
The limp is more pronounced on days like these,
cold rain and chilling breeze. The hitch in his giddy-up
causing his head to angle slightly, correcting for the
sway. His eyes seem a bit less bright yet still alert
while the tail, that ever enthusiastic metronome of
friendship, wags, and waits. So we walk a little slower,
a little less far, sharing the tempo of age and a
love that knows no desire to walk alone.
submitted to – Beloved Pets – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Francine Roberts
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015
the rain fell
dogs and cats
was late in coming
rolled over in bed
until a red
long haired cat
on my head
and my face
then a stray
mangy yellow dog
decided to play
chased Fred away
and decided to stay
his body heat
and I rolled over in bed
until a cool fat black cat
outside to the riverbank
Frank the cool fat black cat
started to scat
at the top of his range
at the edge of my bed
to my head
then Yellow and Fred
with guitar and bass
and played backup
while I played the bed
to save face
it was all
until my neighbors
who didn’t like our chops
banged a different tune
on the wall
and called the cops
they broke down
and took away us four
along with our instruments
less the bed of course
into a paddy wagon
it was in a cell
with a cot
that we realized that we were hot
and started our prison band called
me two cats and a mangy dog
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2013
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
Poetry drips from cat paws
Out of drowsy sonorous sleep
Through the green slit
Of a blinking eye
That alone shows a profound
Of environment, and world
Creeping up in its fawn colored grass
To pounce from nowhere.
This cat that I cannot surprise
Takes me like play rag
Toy or rat
In its dripping mouth
And I going limp
I have heard the dog moaning too
While she walks above the roof
Looking down with a subtle smile.
The dog curls on the mat
Ignoring the majestic movements
I cannot shake the claws.
Cougar slinking through crevices
Of boulders forgotten by flood
Puma leaping through the fluid light
At the edge of night
Tiger forever burning bright
Lion in the caterpillar stage
There is a story in every rage
Cats cuddly cute unwind
Into vivid sheets, poetry dripping
From their tender paws.
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
The Little Dog ( Scotty )
I’m only a small female
Little legs you see
The other two are huge
Males big pawed and hairy
Great tongues lolling
But they protect me
They are nice to me
I’m only small
The human is a giant !
If I look straight ahead
I can only see the shins
And while the other two are off
Galloping and romping
I am trotting behind
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
I think the human is male
He must be
As I feel so drawn to it
And its kind hands
And kind eyes
He must be male
I am female
I know these things
I love to go out walking
The human he takes us all
All three !
I have to skip over boulders
Which to them are just pebbles
And sometimes all of them
Have to wait for me patiently
Little legs with little paws you see
I love them all
Especially the human
And especially when he feeds me
Even more when he tickles my tummy
Do you know he built a little house for me
Just for me
I curl up on pillows at night
Nice warm and cozy
So because I love him
And even though I am rather small
I growl and bark
When he needs protecting
And I can see him smiling
So I know I am being a good girl
The human has a “ H U G E ” kennel
So big a dog could get lost in
And when he returns from being gone
He always lets us in
But never up those little floors
Which go to the place he uses for sleeping
I am content
Like the other two
To curl on the soft fluffy bit of the floor
And wait dozing
Occasionally sniffing about
The place food is kept in
Till the time comes
For us all to go out walking
And then I can barely contain myself
In jumps and circles
While the other two are whimpering and whining
Time for them to go off running, snuffling and playing
While behind I follow
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2008
That big black dog s behind me
He's breathing down my neck
Hes got me staring through the cracks
I know he's got me tracked
He knows my little weaknesses
And all my aching flaws
He stops the sun from shining
and trips me up at doors
He makes me feel I'm small and lost
Yet won't leave me alone
And though he leaves me starving
For him I have a bone
That old black dog he's restless
He's biting at my heels
He wants to make a meal of me
He's got me on my knees
That black dog he has me beat
He has my head in tatters
He rags me in his drooling jaws
and spits me on the street
But my old dog he's faithful
and I keep him by my side
For though I know he holds me back
I match him stride for stride
For without him I would not be whole
I wouldn't be complete
My fears and flaws are part of me
make up the being of my soul
I must learn to live with me
and with my black dog
To live for just this moment
See the sunshine through the smog
But I must remember who is master
Is it me or is it dog?
Copyright © Zoe Orrell | Year Posted 2016
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
A fledgling crow huddled in
the grass beneath the drooling
gazes of my curious dogs.
Its eyes were blue.
And in the tree, its mother screamed
In my hands it lay, gently confused.
Too young to fear me,
it opened its thirsty beak and greedily
swallowed water from a syringe.
And outside the window, its mother screamed.
I scratched its head,
stroked its breast,
and boxed it for its journey
to a refuge for homeless birds.
And, as I carried it to the car,
its mother circled overhead.
Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman | Year Posted 2015
Moon In Auburn
As the stars were heaped upon a mantles Shangri-La
The miniature toy town beneath its cape
Quiet hung in yellow golden windows lit
So silent in the dales and woods blanket
The dog fox cry echoed from the moon
Crisp and cloudless chill less coldness
With the twin of the moon fluxed silver blue
In the tiny handmaidens mirror of reflection
Natures dark slept beneath the shadows of her hand
And she crept in dreams
Within the tip toe of cats
Rendered the night through amber eyes
Glistening on the turns of lovers kisses
For all the endless that she misses
Arched above an eternal sky
She is drawn to the moss of rocks
And clings in branches hung with lichen
To the feathered damp of leaves
Which catch her spark
Just a whisper footfalls breezes shifter
In the country lanes of ancient mazes
By stone wall and rabbits foot
Close upon the dandelions head
With all the disguised colours leaping on unseen acoustics
Were hidden amongst rivulet beds
Catching the silver blue
The dog fox cry echoed from the moon
And swung out the flax upon the stars
Fingers traced their destiny within those pinpoint suns
A pattern constellation traits of has; she was born
The atonement of steady reckoning he had
Cut in trough on the ploughed earth
Where all the seeds of tomorrow had been scattered
With all their promises of a seasons ripening
Old songs sung of proud man “John Barleycorn”
And the distillation of his bone and marrow
And while the stars piled high on their Shangri-La
Recounted the lost tales of lovers in forgotten times
All the memories fell in auburn locks
And swept upon the Luna light shores
The twin she fluxed in silver blue
And the dog fox cry echoed from the moon
Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2009
The beach this morn was wonderful
The waves came thrashing down
They were wild and white and foaming
And their voices thundered round
A lonely figure walked the sand
Her head bent down and sad
And if you were up closer
You could see the tears where out
The sky was dark and cloudy
The rain was falling light
The wind was napping somewhere
And the water felt like ice
I watched that figure walking
With a black dog by her side
A memory in me stirred somewhere
Of times that where not right
She pulled her jacket closer
As if to shut it out
The thoughts that did invade her
Or memories that did shout
And all the times the waves came in
They didn’t ever change
They licked her feet and washed them
And then went out again.
As I sat there and I watched her
That figure all alone
I wondered if she registered
The lack of sun that shone
The day seemed very fitting
For one so sad as she
The misty rain, the dampened air
The water round her feet.
I wondered as I watched her
From whence her thoughts did come
Had someone precious died here
Or had a love undone
She didn’t even see me
Her thoughts so far away
I think if there where people here
She maybe wouldn’t stay
There was nothing I could do here
Her thoughts where all her own
I felt she needed solitude
And time to mull the groan
I stood there, and I left then
A lonely figure, I
I pulled my jacket round me
My black dog by my side.
Copyright © Robyn Blauw | Year Posted 2007
I just can't think,
No longer fight,
All that I own,
And faith inside.
This has very little to do with cost,
A couple of dollars is the least I've lost,
Their piggy banks haven't been bust,
What hurts me more is a loss of trust,
By those who'd rather believe.
I've become a completely empty shell,
Soul been dragged through the depths of hell,
Burning up with fear and pain inside,
With the blackest hound at my side,
Howling to let him back in.
(c) 2016 PJ Bayliss
Copyright © PJ Bayliss | Year Posted 2016
home at night
you bring me my shoe
you've been sleeping with
during the day
usually the one
kicked off last night
is your favorite
you've been working hard
keeping the house in order all day
watching the boys
keeping those rabbits at bay
time for your walk
but first do our welcome home dance
puffing around the shoe
I love you too.
Copyright © Veronica Joseph | Year Posted 2009
We follow the river
Along the Taff Trail ****
Where will it lead me
Somewhere beautiful without fail
We pass Llandaff Cathedral
With Epstein,s statue's within
Cant say that I like it
But thats not a sin
We keep walking for miles
My dog Tilly and me
Soon will be at a castle
Used in films u see
The name of the castle
Is Castell Coch
Whose translation reads
Red Castle of course
It called locally as
The magic castle
Looks so mysterious
As though ready for battle
The rooms arent big at all
Carved small animals adorn the wall
Been sanctioned for weddings
Though numbers must be small
Time to turn back
Along the manmade track
To the mighty rugby ground
Where voices echo
Hymns are sung
The 6 nations contest*
Come on Wales The reigning grand slam **and triple crown ***champions
*wales, ireland, scotland, england, italy and france, battle it out annually against each other in Rugby Union.
**Grand slam is where you beat all the other teams
***Triple crown is where you have to beat the other 3 uk teams.
**** the river running through Cardiff is the River Taff, that is why we in Wales are called Taffy's
Taff Trail is 50 miles of track between Cardiff and Brecon through countryside and over mountains.
PLEASE GOOGLE. Castell Coch hopefully you will be impressed.
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2013
The darkness fades as the new day comes and he sips coffee
He thinks of his marriage that had faded with the night
He relinquished the vows and his wife's plea and poured them into the glass
The world turned as the dog came and said good morning and came to rest at his feet
The Sun rose into the quiet and he silently gazed out the window
It was silent as were the vows
The birds had formed a Union with the squirrels and picketed the Sun
And the warmth on his foot from the dog made the silence fresh
The prayers were sent to where they go and the waiting
The refrigerator hummed and rattled and kept in tune with the computer
The words waited with those prayers and the dog stirred
And God looked down on the pair with love
Those prayers gathered to God and He considered each
And one prayer was showered down on the man and his dog
Love was granted to the two and with certainty God relayed
The dog got to her feet and took a slow draw of water
And He went back to the vows and released them with finality
He gave the dog a rub and went to his coffee
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
If I had a Doberman
I’d never crop her ears
or dock her tail,
although she’d probably
loose her ovaries.
Just a silly hound
but she’d still
retain her teeth.
Copyright © Dave Will | Year Posted 2014
A cat up on a tree.
Watching a dog barking crazy-
At the tree...
The cat laughing
At the helplessness
On the ground.
The cat up on the tree.
A dog on the ground-
Unable to climb-
The cat a witness.
As the floods
Sweep away the dog.
The cat up on the tree.
As the dog is drown
In the water-then,
Copyright © HONESTY OIMBO | Year Posted 2011