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
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
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 night,
Both quietly passed away.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought 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. “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too. His name was Pal.”
Copyright © Robert Candler
The Day The Dog Died
The very day her dog had died ;
she sat alone and cried and cried.
He'd been her companion for many a day ;
she thought he'd be there when SHE went away.
She wept and wept all through the night ;
somehow, her husband would make it all right.
They got in the car and went to the pound ;
she, so discouraged, just looked at the ground.
"Pick out another", her old husband said ;
"You have to face it, your boy dog is dead."
Then the old lady walked slowly outside ;
tears rolled down her face, she wanted to hide.
Up rambled an old dog, a female was she ;
crawled into their car, as bold as could be.
The dog sat patiently waiting there ;
not moving a muscle, going nowhere.
"She just picked us out !", the old lady cried ;
"I thought I'd have no friend till' the day I died."
Now both the old girls sit in a chair;
discussing the world and going nowhere.
That little dog had a very sad past ;
now, she has someone to love her, at last.
She's given the dog a name, Dee Dee,
she listens intently, her chin on Mom's knee.
They pass the long hours being together;
in rain or snow, through all kinds of weather.
So, if this is a "dog's life", lucky is she;
there's just not a better place to be.
Perhaps they will leave on the very same day,
for, to each, there is no other possible way.
I think of them often....they'r gone from this earth;
I'm nearing her age and I not nearly her worth.
Although. three little dogs sit on my bed;
listening and playing and tilting their heads,
at each and everything I say;
like it was important in some sort of way.
I understand the importance of each little creature ;
to someone, somewhere, for they are the teachers.
Copyright © Gail Blakeley
M y precious beloved, neurotic doggie
Y es, I almost kicked my husband out of bed and replaced him with Ollie
D oes not like to go downstairs, so you have to coax him with a treat
O verweight, so he grunts when he goes upstairs, his favorite place to be
G oes to sleep most of the day, unless it is time to eat
O liver is my mini-dauschand with short little legs and fat feet
L ong he is and a bit heavy and allergic to everything he eats
I spend lots of money on dog food because he is so high maintenance
V et bill too there are so many illnesses, sore feet, nails, and what else?
E verytime I go to sleep he lies close to me, he’s my best friend of all
R ight next to my husband whose sleeping like a log!
©Holly P. Moore
Copyright © HOLLY MOORE
Honey, have you seen my keys?
Dear, let the dog out please.
I thought I left them on the table.
Pick up some bread, if you are able.
I knew we should have made a spare set.
To Debby’s party, I am sending regrets.
How cold is it out, did you see the weather report?
Did you take the invitation from the mail I did sort?
Do you think my sweater will be too thin?
Dear, please let the dog back in.
I’m going to be late if I can’t find the keys to the car!
Oh, here’s the invitation – with the bills they are.
What was I wearing yesterday when I came inside?
I’ll tell her we’re busy, the real reason I’ll hide.
Maybe I left them in the pockets of my pants.
She might not want to hear we are going to a dance.
Honey, I found them, now I’ve got to go.
Have you even been listening to me, Joe?
Um, sure…I’ll pick up some milk on my way home.
Bread, Dear...Did you give the dog a bone?
Don’t have time, Honey, you know I’ve got to run.
See you after work, Dear. Have yourself some fun.
Dance!!! What dance!?
Oh, your keys are in your pants.
Copyright © Joe Flach
The English language does not serve up justice to the word ‘Love’.
It allows for an unrestricted usage relative to the object of our affection.
“I love my house, and I love my car; I love my dog, and I love my cat”.
If the equity in my house rises high enough, I will sell it and buy a better one.
If my car no longer performs or I desire to have a new one, I’ll sell or trade it.
My dog stands by me, and he’s my best friend. My cat is quiet and very comforting.
“I love my teachers, and I love my preachers: I love my parents and my siblings”.
I love my job, and I love my blue suede shoes; I love my friends and my enemies”.
I tell you, there is no end to the things that I love without much distinction.
I love my husband; I love my wife; Now hold on! This is where the red flag must fall.
This is where the defining line of true love is drawn in the sand, and here, I take my stand. There are obviously hidden meanings when it comes to “Love” in the English language.
Why did the English not confer more with the Greeks in matters of the “Love Word”?
Would my wife not be much more appreciative of a “Love Word” from me if she knew that my choice of words was different from, let’s say those used to describe my affinity for a professional football team? I think yes.
Anyway, I do “LOVE” my wife far more and far longer than I ‘love’ the raise I received on my job. English is the only language I know. So I am stuck with loving the coffee she made for me, and LOVING her with the same word.
The Greeks seemed to have had a better idea. In the Greek, there are at least three words for “Love”. Those words are very relevant at this point. Phileo, Eros, and Agape express three distinct meanings of “Love”. Phileo love is a brotherly love from which we get the English word Philadelphia. Eros is a romantic love from which we get the word Erotic. In Christian theology, Agape is the divine love, or God’s love for mankind.
And now a final word, especially to all of us who are married. Here is one way to clear everything up and cover all the bases of love. Herein lies a way to not just hit a home run, but a grand slam. Say these words to your spouse: “Honey, let me count the ways that I love thee; my dear, believe me when I say, I love thee in the English, and I love thee in the Greek; I Phileo you, because you are my best friend; I Eros you, because you are my only lover; and I Agape you with a love so divine. 09292015 (contest )
Copyright © curtis johnson
He always says..."She has the "soul of a jewel"!!"
I always say...."She rides like a stubborn old mule"!!!
So...he wants me to ride in his old pick up truck..???
Well, I'm glad to tell you....he has run out of luck!!
I'll tell you why....
Would I lie???
It was once painted blue...but now the color is rust
But you can't be too sure...'cause it's covered in dust!
The engine has to idle...'bout half an hour is good..
You can feel the vibration, around the whole freakin' neighborhood!
If I open the door,...it makes a loud squeak
I must hold my breath....Eewwwww!! What are those odors?? It reeks!!
My life is in jeopardy if I go for a ride!
The windshield is dirty, we can't see from inside
It makes a weird noise...and rides bumpy and rough
The dashboard is peeling, and covered with "stuff"
The seat cushion's torn, it pokes at my rear
His dog sits beside us, and licks at my ear
There's no place below, to rest my feet
There's a hole in the floor....you can see the street!!!!
The windows don't close, so there's always a breeze
With old Kleenex flying...those were tossed when he sneezed...
Wrappers from Twinkies, a Burger King box...
One lonely old sneaker...and dirty old socks
If I had me some coffee...I'd really be set
'Cause those are dirty Styrofoam cups....and even more than that!
Half a stale donut is squished on the floor
Darn!! The dog beat me to it...and is looking for more!
The muffler is loose, you can see the sparks fly
Dirty looks from the folks, who get smoke in their eyes
When we drive by the neighbors, I duck my head and I hide
I'm no Prima Donna....but I've still got some pride!!
He loves that old truck....he calls her a gem!
If he had to choose between us.......I could be out on a limb!!!
For Paula's contest "Soul of a ........ & Life of a ........."
Copyright © Carrie Richards
The Dog House
Caught, he lied to her;
His ebullient smile said all,
On the couch he sleeps.
Copyright © Marie Harrison
The Fanatical Dog Lover
By Elton Camp
Dog ownership has much to commend
Fido can be a companion and friend
From his master, he will never swerve
Giving love even when it’s not deserved
This isn’t written, canines to condemn
But to rebuke any too devoted to them
Sue is one of those about whom I write
Her several dogs are a shame and a fright
Her husband works to get what they need
She spends far too much buying dog feed
Their veterinary bills are a major expense
It makes her husband wish he were hence
Sue tells him that her dogs are her delight
To begrudge spending on them isn’t right
Plus, she thinks that he shouldn’t care
That the house is rife with dog hair
On their bed, Sue lets the dogs sleep
But poor hubby mustn’t say a peep
And just as she’s done many times before
Sue finds there is room for just one more
For in the classified an ad does say
“To a good home, a dog to give away”
Her husband gives out a disgusted shout
Packs his bags and angrily moves out
Sue says, “To do that there is no excuse.
For one who hates dogs, I have no use.”
Before the poor fellow finally re-wed
He decreed, “No dogs in house or bed!”
Copyright © Elton Camp
Sara lived across from a large cemetery;
So, many sad processions she had seen;
But one gray and foggy morning
One like no other made an eerie scene.
Driving slowly was a long, black hearse;
But then, following right behind, another.
Followed by a woman with a huge dog on a leash.
Draped in black, she was someone’s wife or mother.
Then Sara noticed a long line of mourners,
All in black; and following in single file.
Suddenly, she realized they were all women;
And that brought just a hint…a glimmer…of a smile.
Compelled, Sara hurried through the mist.
She just had to know the story.
Just what had happened to these two people
That sent them to their glory?
She walked beside the woman with the dog;
Apologized for her uninvited intrusion.
“I’ve lived here for years, but seen nothing like this.
Please, explain. Give clarity to my confusion.”
“The first hearse carries my husband.
This dog was his demise.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss” said Sara.
A tear came to her eye.
“But what about the second hearse?” she asked.
“That would be his girlfriend…yes, it’s true.
She thought she could help his situation,
But the dog killed her too.”
“Oh, how sad” Sara muttered.
As they slowly walked through the fog.
“But then, who are all these ladies who mourn?”
“They’re not mourning. They want to borrow the dog.”
Copyright © Robert Candler
(I got the idea for this poem from National Lampoon's Vacation.)
When I went on a picnic, I wondered why the sandwiches were wet.
I ate two of them and it was something that I'd soon regret.
It was revolting and drastic.
My dog wet on the picnic basket.
I ate the sandwiches when my wife handed them to me.
I wondered why they smelled and tasted like pee.
When I learned that the sandwiches had been peed on, I threw up.
I sold that damn dog that I'd had since he was a pup.
When I puked my guts out, I was not pleased.
I'll never again be able to eat bologna and cheese.
Copyright © randy johnson