Adopted animals love their humans;
show it in many ways.
The tiniest pet,
revels in the harmony of its time,
Dinky was a special hamster;
she lived a year beyond the normal life span.
I carried her around in my pocket and she loved the ride.
Her head, peeking out, evoked curious comments
from all who glimpsed her.
She searched for me, when I was at school;
her knack for escaping the cage,
kept me searching for her in the afternoons.
I often found her, in my chest of drawers.
Of course, I found it odd,
but hamsters are four-legged, Houdini’s…
Dinky was the best.
One cold winter night, as I lay in slumber,
That tiny traveler made her way from,
one end of the house, to my bedroom.
I lay there, on that frosty eve,
reaming that I was outside in the rain;
the chilling raindrops, dancing upon my arm.
In a moment of lucidity,
Reality hit; those raindrops were tiny paws!
I reached, grasped and in the shimmering moonlit rays,
I stared into the eyes of my new bed buddy.
A twitchy nose said it all…
”I found you!”
I moved her cage close by my bedside;
future escapes faded into history.
the gray cat, Tempus, in doldrums
lazes, purring, stretching.
I have watched him:
cunning eyes half-closed,
he stalks bright birds in the garden,
near day lilies.
Wings wet from flights
through the sprinkler's sweeps,
the birds swoop, glide, flutter.
They light on dry grass,
strut and shake themselves,
are lulled. Then,
Tempus pounces on one bird.
The rest are routed…
And Tempus fugit.
This is Mine, All Mine by Chuck Keys
Fall day, perfect,
Sunny brisk alive.
Filtered rays of sunlight.
Shimmering through semi barren trees
Scattered blown leaves
Patiently waiting their first winter freeze,
So - very serene, calm, barely a sound,
A bird or two chirping
Looking about ready.
There, a small sparse bush
Proudly showing a tiny new green innocent bud,
Nonchalantly waiting about.
His chance to grow,
Fading with shortened cooler days coming
On the trail, my dog,
At my front, back and
Protectively jumping, sniffing, flying, yelping
Majestically prancing about and over,
Manly pawing his ground,
Feeling heat from
The October daytime warmed earth
Dried decaying broken leaves of time fading,
Wind behind his gate,
Cantering soundlessly but hard, manly
Racing airborne paws;
Panting with passion, drooling in chase,
Soaring gleefully effortlessly in-flight,
... off the ground
... leaping high, higher, highest
Endlessly into the wilderness,
On his ground. His movements
… echoing, uncontrolled.
The tamed beast; driven as ever,
Head locked rigid aimed forward, high, tongue draped aside out
Eyes opened squinting into the wind, starring affront
Nose twitching alive on fire in hunt,
Tail erect, straight as an arrow on
Legs in sync with one another, together
Body pulsing as one, muscles taught,
On guard, with pride and ownership.
He stops, panting eyes piercing,
… side to side, front to back
"This is mine, all mine" ... he says
... he says to his daddy.
"Why," thought the cat,
"can I see through the glass,
but when I try to go through it,
it won't let me pass?"
"There are bugs out there,"
the cat thought to himself,
"yet to them, I'm as dull as
a book on a shelf!"
The cat shook his head,
"This is really too much!
There's two squirrels in the yard
and a bird in the brush."
"How much fun it would be,"
with a mew he announced,
"to hunt and to stalk and then
"Why, I'd shake them until
their necks were broke!
Maybe then," mused the cat,
"I'd be more than a joke."
"They'd be amazed by my prowess,"
he thought with a sigh,
"I'd torture them slowly and
they'd wonder why,"
"they never realized that
I was a threat,
while completely ignoring me
like I was their pet."
"I'd show them," he growled
as he laid on the sill,
"with them in my tummy,
I'd savor the kill."
"They'd show some respect,"
he thought with a yawn,
"I'd shown them who's king
of this yard and this lawn."
Head full of adventure,
he fell fast asleep,
safe in his house,
with plenty to eat.
THEY graze in beauty on the land
of grassy glades and dewy dales,
and all that's best of dark and tanned
meets in their aspect and their tails;
thus mellowed to that tender hand
which Shepherd to gentle glen compels.
One fleece the more, one hair the less,
had half repaired the shearless grace
which wreathes in every woolen tress
or darkly tightens o'er their face,
where mouths serenely sweet express
how pure, how dear their grazing-place.
And on that rump and o'er that round
so strong, so firm, yet elegant,
the baas that win, the hooves that bound,
but tell of days in meadows spent—
a flock at peace with all around,
a drove whose milk is innocent.
01/26/2014, "First Poem On Soup" Contest
The fire alarm went off
Water sprinklers came on
Near pups will not writeoff
Pups are my obsession
The floor and walls hotter
Dry hot air_no way out
Get faint start to totter
There's crash on door without
Master early today
He will care for me_pups
We can count on him to stay
His love grows in all ways
It's not him crash through door
He spots me; as I survey him
Shiver with pups on floor
He reaches_ touches rim
Container where pups lay
Places in pocket on coat
Fireman works swiftly this day
Concerned person take note
Who's here_need to be moved
Swiftly fireman moves now
To safety takes them improved
Flames leap; gone_ puppy chow
My life_pups was limited
Our time totally up
To be annihiliated
Fireman saved me _pups
My one_ only method
To say to him thanks_thanks
Is loving kiss slipshod
As he pets my scorched flank
(slipshod in this case:careless or messy)
The sentinel cats
Guard post tip top of the house
Growing winter coats
I am a living being
With eyes that see
With ears that hear
but I have fur
and you have hair
I am a living being
but you have nails
and I have claws
and you have hands
but I have paws
I am a living being
I feel sadness, happiness
loneliness and pain
We are living beings
When we hurt we hurt the same
What of this pregnant white cat?
Her dirty fur a smudge
Against the snow's crisp canvas,
She mews at my door for milk.
A stranger to me, she appeared
Without express invitation,
And now, she lingers like a cold.
This cat is an embarrassment.
Like friends whom I feed
Because I lack strength
To turn them away.
< beneath swollen ..... moon
in pasture of...... rolling hills
standing ....hind quarters
a beautiful black ...... stallion
simply took my breath ........ away
A Memory Of Beauty
Goldie, my peculiar but beloved cat,
has certain affectations --
she prefers, most times, her own society
and shuns her housemates.
But, sometimes, she cuddles
or will join the others
to laze around -- in the living room,
the dining room, a hallway, or
in the kitchen.
An inside cat who, early on,
suffered the indignity of
she asserts her independence
by darting into the front yard
when a door is opened --
and she pointedly ignores
any calls or pleas to come inside.
But when the door shuts
and no one is around, she is fearful,
immediately climbing up into the ash tree.
And there she stays
until I come to coax her down.
She may climb high up
and, finally, shakily manage
a descent to allow me to pick her up
and carry her back inside.
She never leaves the yard
but does enjoy ignoring me
when I am in a hurry.
She will dart about and run
from one side of the yard to the other.
For her, it's only an infrequent game.
And, as my treasured pet,
she certainly deserves to play
while testing the limit
of my affectionate, chagrined
Some sounds like the noise of bees
Hovering around the atmosphere
Or like rain drops on our roof tops,
I opened my round window
The window of my hut,
I wanted to know
Why my sleep won't mellow,
All i saw was sorrow
As the atmosphere turned green.
The cassava farm was over shadowed
Banana plantation feebled,
Apple orchard struggled
Yet their efforts stifled,
Lemon grass for mama's herb withered,
Rose flower shattered and our
Groundnut farm tattered.
Suddenly,the green army fled,
Tears exuded from my eyes
As i sputtered in pain,
Mother filled with melancholy,
Father tore his heart in grief
Villagers hope captured and crippled,
So their travail displayed as
Everyone mourned over
The locust plaque.....
BY: CHARLES MELODY (LIGHTNING INK).
She was a devoted ole gal always at her best
so many days I cried hanging off her chest
down to the lake in the hot summertime
we would cool her off and swing on a vine
Every morning at five am here came Belle, now my friend
and again at six pm there Belle was ready to work again
years passed and Belle became a part of our family
we worked, we played, and we milked twice a day
Half my life she was one of my dear friends
I greeted her in summer with warm sun burnt skin
and in winter I spent my time warming them
when Belle died I can't say things were ever the same again
Belle had become more than a cow in a pen, who gave us milk
she became a babysitter, a circus act, part of the swim team, for the neighborhood
but most of all Belle had become a lonely teen's dear friend
Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?
Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”
The puppy’s eyes were huge and sad.
His tail a drum did beat within my head.
His whimper a sound from which I could not part.
His posture defeated struck upon my heart.
His expectations high. His whimpers slow.
Within his cage he lays submissively low.
I could not walk away when invited in by eyes so bright.
I reached low to scratch his ears and touch his head so light.
Upon my hand he did drool, as his tongue did lick to know.
Then he held me in his mouth so tight as not to let me go.
A connection felt, a gentle hand, a belly rub a treat.
I knew to hold him close- my heart made whole again would beat.
Forever mine whispered in my ear. I could not let him go.
Unconditional love to feel- I could not look away, so
Our heart beat once- then twice again in unison unique.
Without a doubt- one way to go- my heart does tightly seek.
I know to take him home- my life would be so sweet.
One dog has died. Now another found. My life continues still.
New hopes and dreams- to home we go as life proclaims its’ fill.
But his friend sits shivering, as we prepare to leave.
My heart grows suddenly still. To look, to see, my heart to believe
One is good, but two is best- two hearts my love can shield.
Toward my home we turn again- three hearts to joyfully yield.
Once a house- now a home we will successfully build.
So if a shelter you do pass, stop a moment to see…
Perhaps a loved one waits inside, if a loving home you have a need...
Two field mice took a walk one day
Then feeling tired, they'd walked a ways
They thought they'd stop and rest a while
For home was further on some miles.
Then they heard the pad of old Toms paws
Which spooked them quite a bit I'm sure
As the cat purred loudly to see the mice
And thought "a meal it would be nice!"
Their whiskers quivered nervously
As, our two mice made haste to flee
So off they scampered for their lives
As old Tom cat for them did strive
That old cat looked he, high and low
And where they were he didn't know
As the two they trembled neath a bush
They could almost touch that mean old puss.
Then Tom gave up and skulked away
And the two mice lived another day
And their lungs filled up with gratitude
They'd foiled that old tom cat, so rude.
Peace, Socrares Dec 2 2003
We were drifting off.... deeply into sleep!
Time was running out for my pups and me
They lay unconscious from inhaling dense smoke
The door was locked, so we crawled under the bench
And I barked as loud as I could, hoping attention to reap
I had paced for our while even though chances were slim
By myself I would’ve tried try some brazen escape
But, no way could I abandon my pups in this place
I began to think that our lives were a wrap
Until I felt your warm and gentle pat
You filled your suit pockets with my little pups
You risked your life willingly to save each of us
Now, in gratitude, let me wipe the smudge off your face
Could I speak your language, I would graciously say, ‘Thank you!’
For Joyce Johnson's "Doggy Gratitude" Contest
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
at still's darkness
caterwaul thud whine snarl
cats hiss differences at midnight
thud growl caterwaul rapid light footsteps
on top of the house wail screech shriek
sibilant with comrades
on shingled roof
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: Sound of Emotion
Written by: Sara Kendrick
Date: May 28, 2012
Laps up cool water
Lifts up head
Get off the toilet!
Walked her in the woods,
And on beaches; then crying,
We put her to sleep.
< amidst grass carpet he plays
long ears bushy tail white paws
nibbles bulbs munches away
poor little thing had some flaws
hides hair braided and despaired
didn't stop this little guy
thought to self this wasn't fair
bowed head and started to cry
nectar is what he had sought
on this hopeful days journey
not to be trapped or be caught
or carted off on gurney
Mister Nibbles came to play
In garden's bedding today
Hurray for Sadie
Pert, alert, shows
A run in
The fast ring
The light is fading, evening breaks
Between the oaken woods and lake,
It's time to finish with the row
And homeward bound, the trail to take.
With rake in hand I turn to go
To find my pick axe and the hoe,
When from the trail there ran a buck
And right behind him came two doe.
At first I thought, what rotten luck!
I'm here, my rifle's in the truck,
Then, as he stopped to look my way
He gave his tail a flip and tuck.
And then he spun and bounced away
The doe behind him sleek and grey,
Crashing through the brush and vine
Into the woods and welcomed shade.
He must have sported twenty tine
I thought as Shadow starts to whine,
Asking, should he give him chase?
I pat his head in soft decline.
The sun is gone upon my face
To lose the buck is no disgrace,
Although today I've been undone
There'll be another time and place.
Today the buck has rightly won
The hunters gone, the season done,
Perhaps we'll meet again next year
Before the season's had it's run.
The buck was ancient, and I fear
He may not see another year,
But then, another year is seldom clear
For man, or dog, or antlered deer.
Timothy I. Brumley
It's that time of year again
I saw the neighbor's white cat
Chaseing their neighbor's striped cat.
She curled her tail around her toes,
Covering whiskers, chin and nose.
An ear twitch here, another there;
She claimed as hers the easy chair.
Tormentor of both mole and mouse,
She spent the summer out of house.
Plundered, pillaged, night and day,
No mercy for dim witted prey.
Summer passed and then the fall,
As bitter cold left wintery pall.
The feline wanted none of that;
Once more she posed as family cat.
She lay about each day and night:
Purred when stroked and feigned delight.
Her bowl, her chair and toilet place,
Were all she claimed as sovereign space.
The season wore on long and cold.
Outside most life seemed put on hold.
The feline lay there still as dead,
Entombed within her winter bed.
Come now the spring with days of fair;
The old cat stretched within her chair.
A well placed nose near open sill;
She felt the much diminished chill.
Then rushed to door that still was closed.
Cries from her pleading throat arose.
Weaving through her mistress legs;
"Let me out," brash feline begged.
As chipmunk fed in hemlock crotch,
Unfettered cat dashed off the porch.
With one quick scramble up the tree;
A winter cat she ceased to be.
Do we not marvel at her grace,
Ere all those months confined in place?
The cat resumes with guileless ease,
Her summer reign of fields and trees.
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
persuaded by time,
clothed in rust, a sky reveals
the hem of summer…
round green hills are strewn with oaks
as far as the eye can see….
kissing toes of a
barn-red house, acres of grass
stand at attention…
John Deere rides the afternoon
humming with satisfaction
under a pear’s shade
golden hound naps lazily …
one eye slides open…
for an occasional glance....
on guard for squirrels who thieve
By Carrie Richards, for Francine's Contest: "the view"
I love my Mousey,
She lives in a field in BrushCreek, Tennessee,
Walking with her her of cattle,
As happy as she will ever be.
Without this there would be only she,
And i could make her as happy as me,
I miss her immensly, for thee i wish well,
For everyday i wish she wont sell,
And I could show her in the Dekalb County Fair,
I would sell never an ounce of her.
Hehe not even one of her little white hairs.
Even when all the way over there,
Mine she is for no one but me to share, if I do so happen to dare.
Cute as a button,
A button her nose may well be,
Where I first touched her sweet little body,
Not once but twice sweetly,
For wherever she goes I could spot her, along with her sister and mother.
Many a mile away, for she is not at all,
Not at all what you would say a little grayish thing.
But a heifer who grows daily,
Only to shove the motherly tears away.
In my eyes though, she will always be, forever and always, my baby girl, my sweetie,
my beautiful girl, my Mousey
(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!