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
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
What would it be like if I were a tree
Just how different my life would be
Standing still for years on end
Perhaps it would drive me round the bend
Back and forth I’d sway in the breeze
Then in the winter my branches would freeze
In the autumn I would be naked and bare
But I’m just a tree so who’s going to care
I’ll attract all the birds when it turns to spring
They will sit on my branches and then start to sing
Building their houses they fly too and fro
Too bring up their young I watch how they grow
When it gets cold they’ll all fly away
The sign that its winter with a sky that is grey
Alone again not one single bird
The sound of the singing not to be heard
All the little animals have all hidden away
I’m stuck in the ground that’s where I will stay
I see the odd person who’s out for a jog
Then there are others out walking their dog
Then they will stop to let the dog pee
But why do they have to do it on me
Kids swing from my branches till they fall apart
If only they realised I do have a heart
Then there are others who give us the chop
Just to make furniture to sell in their shop
I wish I could talk then I could explain
That I do have feelings and I do feel the pain
So next time your out you’re bound to see me
Maybe you’ll realise I’m not just a tree
Copyright © TANYA CANNING | Year Posted 2015
Once was a gal who felt so alone
Tornato came up rooted farms home
Landed on wicked witch
Munchkins came out of ditch
Gave dog lollypops instead of bone
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2013
the earthly cycle at year’s end.
This is true
no matter how many fools
Dogs have unerring internal clocks
and finite bladders.
these absolutes of nature
guarantee that I’ll witness
every dawn from November to March
regardless of my
preferences or exhortations.
I don’t have a problem with this,
although I’d much rather be relishing
the warmth of bed and wife.
I trade comfort for being part of
cold quiet pinking toward sunrise,
snow blowing horizontal,
rain sometimes gentle,
often thrown hard against the ground
heaped upon the poor dogs
answering the call
of another of nature’s absolutes:
when you gotta’ pee,
you gotta’ pee.
Copyright © Jack Jordan | Year Posted 2013
brandy warm eyes light
intelligent soft and bright
no language so right
dive after the birds
thrilling that they scatter wild
‘cross the azure pond
smiling the while, gay
tail wags the triumphant hunt
struts out the cold wet
Copyright © Trisha Sugarek | Year Posted 2014
By ears and whiskers, ain't no more
A sadder thing that being in the dog house,
On a rainy day.
Make no bones about it, when momma's
Mad I'm hanging my head low.
Jo dirt has nothing on how bad this hound feels,
But honestly instincts roller, over road wisdom's,
Howling, but I'd mean it dearest sweet mommy.
With woofs and kisses can I make it all better,
It's lonely on this side of the doorway.
With you out there and me in here.
Kibbles my bits I'd give up my
Of bacon bits for a true heart felt,
That a good boy one more time.
If I could I'd bring you a beer,
Just to see that frown disappear.
Perking these two ears up to here,
Your laughter ring out at bed time.
Or a soft whispers friendly voice, speaking
Good night dear old friend.
All four paws down I won't do it again,
Cross this canine's fury little heart.
But the rain keeps falling,
As outside the sunshine is calling,
Our names to be together,
There's no tears like these rainy days.
So I'll sit patiently,
For the sun to rise again in your heart,
When ever that maybe,
Because simply put I'm loyalties pup,
Just waiting for you to bring me
On the right side of
The door once more.
To sit beside thee again.
A companion and dearest friend,
Always letting the sun to shine down
On us forever more.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2013
DOG SLED IN THE SNOW STORM
wind sucks breath
hopeful frozen musher
interrupts white fury
dog team glides
snow ice smooth
dogsled consumes white miles
Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2013
From my window I see the dog walkers as they parade past
Leash in their left hand, poop bag held tightly in their right
All sizes, shapes and breeds, both owners and their dogs
Charges safely tethered on their leash, straining to be free
Anxious to check their pee-mail or send a message on its way
I see the walker poised, ready to scoop up each catch of the day
Quickly wrap it tightly and tuck the warm and squishy deposit
Firmly into their pocket before hurrying on their way
Copyright © Donald J Bennett | Year Posted 2012
cat, death, dog, flower, nature, rain,
It rained cats and dogs
My begonia bit the dust!
Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015
Echoing against the alpine valley's deepest depths,
In the timbers hear their thunderous voices,
For they are the spiritually liberated, the kindred
To the restless spirit of the wilderness.
Our native brethren guardian, hollowing unto
The night moon above, singing the chambered
Music of solitude's paradise.
It is a mournful cry, a haunting rhythm of this
Unchained melody, sung by a forest creature
In isolation the wolf, whom was born wild and
Free, behold the untamed survivor, living
From tooth and claw.
Running within the illumination of the full
Moons glow, do these night devils patrol,
For foods raw hunger drives this kinship's pack,
On the basic instinct to thrive and survive.
Loving mothers of fur to kin, nuzzlers their youth,
Covered in the blood of satisfactions hunt,
For it is the law of the ancient, that the strong
Live on wards, and the weak of the herd thinned,
By deaths teething predator.
Shadow stalkers lining the snow banks of ice,
Waiting to ambush with speed and stealth.
Wilderness chameleons blending within their
Natural habitat's forest realm, in their eyes
Gleams the spark of freedoms beauty,
And within the beast, beats the wild heart
Of liberation, no longer lost in isolation's
Paradise, for the lone wolf has found
His kindred path at last.
Listen to the echoing voices from mountain
Top, to the distant peaks beyond, howling in
Unison, for tonight the mystical forest is alive,
Stirring with the songs of the wolves, singing
In happiness unto one another, in the timbers.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
I walked alone
along a sandy and lonely beach.
The raging waves from the sea
crashed onto the slimy sea shore.
The riding waves were white and bare,
but when they violently crashed, turned white and black.
I walked along the lonely beach.
Listening to the seagulls chatting
on silver rocks and boulders.
I sat near the shore.
The waves coing in and out
crashing violently on the silver rocks and boulders.
I sat there, lonely skipping pebbles into the vase and endless sea.
The waves came in and swallowed the pebbles, I threw its way.
The sea crabs wabbling from side to side, came up from the shore.
They kept me company on a lone and quiet evening.
A lone dog walking without an owner
came and curled up next to me,
and barked at the chattering seagulls.
They flew in panic toward the setting of the Red Sun,
and disappeared into the evening paradise.
The lone dog gazed upon the red sheld sea crabs,
and chased their wabbling bodies away
back down to the slimy sea shore.
And at the setting of the evening, I was alone.
Soon I had seen something
that had shocked me,
A young and beautiful gypsy woman.
She crossed my path along the lonesome beach.
All of a sudden the beach became full with love and life of all kind.
The lilacs, and roses, and violets and daisies
grew tall and bloomed, like madmen.
The waves pulled in by the full moon,
that shinned upon me and the Gypsy Woman.
She was decorated with ragged skirts and blouses,
with shinny, white pearls around her neck,
and golden bracelets around her wrists.
She smiled at me.
I smiled back at her.
Her hair black, with a vail of flowers around her head.
She stopped me and held my hand.
I was astonished and afraid.
What was this stunning and beautiful woman doing to me?
A victim of lost love and heartbrake.
I had no money, no jewlery.
I asked her what she wanted.
She replied with loneliness in her voice;
"To be loved."
I pulled her in, and kissed her,
and whispered softly in her ear,
decorated with silver earrings;
We joined hands and walked the lonesome sandy beach.
Listening to the waves, now softly coming in and pulling out.
The shore, now not so slimy,
and the silver rocks and boulders sleeping so peacefully.
I turned to her and she smiled at me.
I held her in my arms and kissed her upon her sweet brow.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
perched on the branch
tree lizard puffs up its chest
like a balloon
dancing in the dark
fireflies paint lines of light
in exquisite designs
a buzzing bee
the sleeping dog awakens
then bolts from the room
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2013
today there is snow outside
a dog is walking
he leaves yellow of fluffed white
Copyright © Sam Blake II | Year Posted 2008
Snow of delight or snow of fright?
Bringing forth a world of wintry white.
Children sled and play no matter it night or day.
In its pleasures they do delight.
Spreading limbs wind up and down.
An angel’s wings flying without a sound.
Rolling giant balls of powder.
The children laugh a little louder.
Even though, they sometimes flounder.
Snow of delight for them.
Snow of fright for some men.
As they shovel the snow again and again.
Canine friends tunnel their way.
A lost one looking for the light of day.
Wishing for a warmer place to play.
Bending the branches of my favorite evergreen.
How far can they stand to lean?
Will it be nice or mean to my evergreen?
How might your scene unfold?
Did it make you shiver in the cold?
Is it a delight or fright to behold?
Richard J. Long (February, 2010)
Inspired by Snow apocalypse
Copyright © Richard J. Long | Year Posted 2010
An empty barn was the home of a dog;
outside buzzing bees attacked a tiny cat...
joyful was the song of a parched bird.
An hour ago, happy was the warbling bird;
no rascals bothered the skinny, smelly cat...
they didn't get close to the hungry dog.
Rain came and it worried the shivering cat;
spring showers were the joy of the bird...
he could have been the prey of the dog.
Sunshine returned: the dog barked, the cat ran and the bird fled.
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2013
First frost has come overnight, and the quaking aspens have blanketed the hills with brilliant splashes of amber. Even the ruts in the driveway, are beautifully trimmed in rime, glistening in the touch of sunlight that has just now fondled the horizon. Finn,..our golden lab, struggles to get up on his feet this morning, to be let out. He limps a bit stiffly, then hesitates, reluctant to step out into a chilly dawn. It's the first time I have noticed how rudely is a gray veil clouding those wise, brown eyes. Finally, he ventures outside, walking gingerly, under a sky, jaggedly streaked with purple. The morning air is persuading the cold breath of winter soon to follow. Mourning doves are slowly disappearing, although two familiar stragglers, like old friends, are sitting high upon the shed roof, watching the leaves tumble like golden gems to the earth....and keeping watch, like soldiers, at their post. And Finn forgets his discomfort, for just one moment, and runs for a closer look. He jumps, barks, and they fly off into the sunrise. There is an odd feeling in today's somber light, which seems to turn the page of another season.
a tail thumps the door
as I reach for the leash...
we wait for the sun
For Contest Sponsored By Broken Wings 9/20/13
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
Dogs sniff the brown earth
Smell the squirrel and rabbit’s feet
Bark at skunk feet scent
Copyright © Howard Dion | Year Posted 2015
“There was a Robin in a tree who spoke to me one day
Where are you going he asked and what will you see
Just a walk in the park I replied, just my dog and me
The Robin asked a beautiful day do you not agree?
Yes I said, but there are clouds drawing near do you not see?
The Robin tilted his head and looked to the sky
I see the clouds he said, but I think the rain will pass us by
Thank you friend Robin I said with a smile
Would you like to come with us and chat for a while?
No said the Robin, I must be off
But please come by again when next you take a walk
As the Robin flew away my dog looked at me and said
If he ever lands on the ground I will chase him all around
But why said I, he has but to fly
Smiling my dog shook his head and said why ask why?”
Copyright © Jon Jones | Year Posted 2015
winter's rain deluge
pouring buckets all night long...
slept like a princess
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2013
(This is a Tanka: Japanese poem of five lines, the first and third composed of five
syllables and the others seven. In Japanese, tanka is often written in one straight line,
but in English and other languages, we usually divide the lines into the five syllabic
by Amy Swanson
Great drops of water
fly vigorously from him!
Black hair glistening
he gallops through the river,
stops only to shake himself!
Copyright © Amy Swanson | Year Posted 2009
Shall I believe that you are not like me?
A dog is but a wolf no longer wild,
and though you are a faithful friend, I see,
you are four-footed like no human child,
my boy; and though you answer to the name
the same the brilliant poet reprobate,
there somewhere in my brain is the refrain:
each species God did separately create.
But Wallace fed by spoon his little pet
orangutan, and longed to take her home
to England’s soil, where Darwin’s tree upset
conventional belief. And I must own:
that when your gaze unblinking holds my eyes
I know our likeness cannot be despised.
Copyright © Mark Clement | Year Posted 2015
The sun shines gently upon me.
The birds are busy at play.
The children are sleeping.
The cats are out creeping.
And the dog has been barking all day.
The birds cackle and chirp;
As they play a round of hide and seek.
The dog watches with excitement,
as the cat strolls by so frail and meek.
A good morning kiss from the sun to the world.
Its a brand new day.
wake up boys and girls.
Copyright © christie mills | Year Posted 2008
We take turns stabbing
with our shovel at rocky clay dirt
until the cut's deep
enough for what little remains
of our family dog.
Warm wet salt drops--
on my tongue as
I sip wine from a fragile glass
Stare through to hawks
swimming in October winds
circling hills full of Diablo
full of still,
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2009
This is the old grove
where I would unhook his leash
so he could run free-
Squirrels may be glad he is gone
but leaves have gilded his grave
Sitting in the shade
feathering grass with fingers
I feel soft, long ears---
I can almost feel the thump
of his tail hitting my legs
For Contest Sponsored By Amy Green
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
Common as the sparrow
A friend of the Yarrow
It's the flower that flies
When you pluck out its eyes
Wherever it goes
It tickles your nose
And stands on its head
When it is dead
Yellow and gay
As a summer day
This flower of mine
Brews a great wine--
the dapper dandelion!
Copyright © A.E. Rivenbark | Year Posted 2015
*Sunny at Hocking Hills, Ohio*
There he goes!
Dashing across the prairie like a hound dog
He is a lightning bolt
He is a wonder
He is my small white dog full of energy
Galloping across the tall rye grass with not a care in the world
We come here to relax and collect our thoughts
We come here to remove ourselves of the pressures of the world
A log cabin, steaks, historical movies and our dog
Sunny is the child we never had between us
There he goes!
Dancing amidst the tulips and daffodils
That was a million years ago
And now our lives are so different
Sunny craves his time away from home too
Now he goes in the back yard chasing squirrels and birds
Howling at the first hint of their arrival
He’s my little mixed breed
He’s my little thunder
Watch out animals in our yard
He is on the prowl
This incessant barking
This incessant howling
I simply open the back door and Sunny goes to town!
Copyright © Gwendolen Rix | Year Posted 2014
My companions and I we travel
same path everyday December Moon lights the way
Across the frozen waters, down the snow glistening trail
everyday without fail
My promise to them this time that we share
makes these cold days somehow easier to bear
Until the ice begins to break
and our path becomes altered
yet in our daily vigil we never falter
The view turns to green, trees bud and birds sing
our first signs of the miracle of spring
Down the narrow, twisted trail
flower petals from surrounding trees
litter our path like ancient confetti
In the dawn of morning
our lightened steps grow stronger as the days grow longer
A cool misty morning contrasts the heat of day
the ever winding trails take us away
Into God's incredible creation
of pinks and violets, yellows and blues
the colors of his wildflowers grow strong and true
After the rain, honeysuckle trees smell sweet and cool
as my friends splash through the new made pools
We revel in the months of sun, eyes are bright and tails wag
for chasing rabbits the favorite gag
And the seasons revolve
Again the air turns crisp and clean
and the harvest moon can just be seen
Through the reds and yellows, orange and browns
the world reveals another shade
as the dwindling foliage begins to fade
Cat Tails Ruffle
Wish that we could stay and play
so we'll make the memory last all day
my companions and I we travel
same path every day...December Moon lights the way
- for my awesome German Shepherds Kya and Dar
Copyright © Chris Hagy | Year Posted 2016
sunlit beams soak through
gilded clouds glisten brightly
rich flora sheds crown
Copyright © Stephen Parker | Year Posted 2011
A Dog and Thunder.
I hear thunder it’s nearing, the dog, not looked after, whimpers; this
ancient fears of Odin’s horse hooves, sparks from the gloomy sky-
Thor, is no better with his loud, idiotic thunder trying to steal his
father’s ire. How to tell the dog its chances of getting, hit is remote?
I open the gate it runs into the shed and curls up on a rug I was about
to throw away as it threadbare and full of holes; it was new once,
admired for it colour and pattern. That’s the way of everything that’s
why I only buy old bangers. There is nothing as sad as a hounded and
ignored dog, it avoids eye contact fearful I might change my mind and
throw it out. The owner of the dog is a man of uncertain anger if I offer
to adopt it he might shot it as he did with another dog of when it was
futile as a hunter of rabbits. My cowardice is endless to confront a man
with guns on his walls, not me! I feed the poor cur, but never let into
the house it must understand that I’m not a master... just its friend.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2011