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 evening,
Pal quietly passed away.
Bob held Pal in his arms and wept.
“Oh, Pal…my best friend…you saved my life.”
He caressed Pal as he reminisced;
Then, sometime in the night, Bob joined his wife.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought fresh 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 through her tears.
“I had a dog when I was young...
A good one too. His name was Pal.”
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
I was just trying to remember the past
trying to remember the good people
and the bad people,
that i came across on my way,
i want you to know
that you are among the good people
that left a good trace in my life,
once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.
Copyright © VICTOR BUN | Year Posted 2012
She’s out there chasing a cricket
Through bush, through shrub & through thicket
Together they hop
But when she gets it, she just wants to lick it!
A cat whose vet took his eye
Just cannot quite understand why
His eye’s been enucleated,
3-D vision reduciated,
So now, he keeps an eye out for an eye
Ya gotta keep limericks loose
Think green eggs, or perhaps Dr. Seuss
They’re structured, it’s true,
But they’re also a zoo
Whose tenants are all on the loose!
I frolic in fountains of words
Overflowing with serious absurds
Each poem I write
Wakes up and takes flight
Joining angels and faeries and birds
You ask that we write a good limerick
How to do so, I haven’t a glimmerick
So I struggle and frown
Teaching poems to clown
So a smile on your lips will be shimmerick
A cat with a mouth full of mouse
Brought her feast right into my house
She played with her food
Who was not in the mood
To be a banquet of mouse in the house
The nightmares that shadow my sleep
Stampede the proverbial sheep
Right out of my mind
When I try to unwind
I find my appointment with sleep hard to keep
In her search for original truth
She met people unsavory and couth
She knitted and purled
But only unfurled
Yarns told by new age and old youth
Cat, suddenly pink,
Drinks her water from out of the sink
She looks so absurd
Since she’s been de-furred
I really don’t know what to think!
If one and one is two and two is four,
And there’s only two ways to go through a door,
Then, is earth up or down?
And, where is down town?
These are questions we need to explore!
A was that is an is
Tried to mind my biz
But I sent it packing,
Its presence was lacking
And I don’t have time for such shiz!
A couple who lived in Los Lunas
Loved the wide desert sky’s crystal blueness
They’d stare at the air,
Over here, over there
And rejoice at the feeling of newness
A cat with a very fat gut
Found it easier to walk on his butt
He’d drag it around
Across carpet and ground
And use it to slam the doors shut
Said the Missus to her dear Mr. Otter,
“There’s something I think that you oughta
Do before we get old
To protect us from cold –
You oughta make the hot water hotter!”
The ghosts who live up in my attic
Make noises that sound much like static
I’ve tried to send them away,
But they’re here to stay,
Those staticky ghosts in my attic
Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2007
Welcome To My Home
I've been blinded by your sentiment,
and awoken by your sweet cologne,
like our sweet morning regiment,
we don't live in a house, but a home.
I see my pugs silly smushy face,
as soon as I open my exhausted eyes,
all night he sleeps in the same place,
on my feet, but I'm not surprised.
I'm in the bathroom brushing my teeth,
I open the door and there he is,
my sweet golden retriever beast,
So darn sweet, how can I resist?
“Time to get up Ella and get dressed!”,
It's Monday, you know how that goes,
As I see her smile I know I am blessed,
Love her from her head to her tiny toes.
Pancakes and orange juice for breakfast,
packing a lunch for my sweet Ella Rose,
These special moments can't be purchased,
Oh, how her beautiful brown hair flows.
Back from school and it's Laura time,
I kick back, relax, and do a little writing,
I'm lucky to have a chance to unwind,
My over sized lounge chair, typewriting.
Laundry piled up I suppose I throw in a load,
mmmmmmm..my favorite fabric softener,
Hot water is off my washer is cold,
But I think it makes the clothes softer.
Eat lunch? Or my favorite apple strudel?
I'll go with the unhealthy snack instead,
Plus I just looked and I'm all out of noodles,
and I have no more of my raspberry vinaigrette.
Uh oh, I forgot to feed the turtle and bunny,
my precious white fluffy piece of heaven,
His name is Lucky and he is very funny,
Pebbles the turtle just turned seven.
I set my phone alarm to go off at four o'clock,
I still can't decide what's my favorite ring tone,
I go to the bus stop right around the block,
It's cold, I would've brought a coat if I had known.
“Hi sweetheart, how was your day at work?
He's finally home, I've missed him so much.
Next it's time to sit down and do homework,
Dinner's ready, we are all starving, I figured as such.
Look inside our windows you will see it yourself,
With our little family of seven we're never alone,
We may not have a lot of monetary wealth,
But we've learned to turn a house into a home.
Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: January 29, 2016
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2016
Inspired by Casarah Nance contest micropoetry ain't that tweet
Written: August o6, 2015
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2015
If deserted, was I, on an island, and was allowed only three integral items to take with me, what would they be?
If we are speaking of material things, I suppose I would take my favorite book in the whole world, "Ask Dr. Mueller" by Cookie Mueller. It is a book I cherish, and can read perpetually because it's just that good.
If, by some strange coincidence, there happened to electricity on the island, and an old, abandoned, yet functional CD player just so happened to be found, then I would want my favorite album in the world with me: "Live Through This" by Hole. I worship Courtney Love and her music. She is a grunge Goddess to me. I love every song on that album.
If pen and paper could magically count as just one item, then I would take mountains of paper and a plethora of pens so I could record everything and continue writing poetry while hoping to be rescued.
My acoustic Gibson Epiphone means the world to me; I cannot imagine not having it with me. I know how to play all the songs off "Live Through This", so perhaps I would choose my guitar instead; that way I can still enjoy those songs as I still compose more of my own; that makes sense, right?
If, by Divine Intervention, there was an abandoned, yet functional TV and DVD player, I would have to consider taking all seven seasons of "The Golden Girls"; I don't think I could survive without the Golden Girls; it's my favorite show ever. And also all of the "Star Wars" movies; those I cherish, too.
And also, since I am an addict/alcoholic, I would want to take tons of pills, whisky and Cola with me; I'm sure I could not survive without those.
I understand that perhaps people or pets may not be considered as "items", but if I could choose among them, well, I would have to take my loving partner, my best friend of twenty years and my two dogs, Sammy and Bilbo, and my three kitties: Marley, Archie and Punky (of course I count them all as one because I like to break the rules).
Since there are so many things I do not think I can live without, it's an impossible decision. But these are my considerations, nonetheless.
*What Would You Take Contest Entry
Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet | Year Posted 2013
Early one morning my Hubby was sleepily shuffling around and about.
Dawn was almost breaking and we were becoming late no doubt.
Toiletries were a waiting, as he shuffled near the morning throne.
Opening the lid, you’ll never guess what exited as a rocket blown.
EEEWWW …Poor little thing… Oh Who, you will never guess…
Out popped a little tree frog jumping at mach 2 in his quest…
Yes, he was wet and doing his very best as he stuck to the vanity.
For who can say how long he’d been trapped in there, you see?
It puzzled me to wonder… How he’d got to the second floor?
Poor little guy… I doubt he could have withstood very much more.
Now here we were to scare him… Yes, another time, I confide…
We had to get him past 3 dogs awaiting for food and to go outside.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if 3 squirrels weren’t watching from the tree.
None might have been so eager, if they’d known he came from our potty.
My jammied hubby ran for the mulch pile where sticks and leaves abound…
As I entertained the squirrels and doggies with tempting morsels all around.
Now I can’t say it was traumatic to save a little wayward froggy…
But I won’t be opening that lid without a light, especially, if I am groggy.
And I’ll move back out of range as I lift the lid… I thank you all the same.
And next time I won’t forget to clean the toilet in a timely way, to my shame.
And I won’t ask my hubby to wash his hands 10 times daily… come next May.
Now I know you may not believe me… but I'll take an oath on this… I say.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2011
Iam just zero,
not a zest hero.
uplifts this none.
Made me a valued limitless ton,
and as a rising sun.
Copyright © manoj vijayakumar | Year Posted 2012
Never forget what you have
Your home is your haven and to let your hair down
The love of your home, its the place to be
With the love of all of your family
Home is truly where the heart is
Remember that the work day is done
Never bring home the toils from the day
Relax and have fun that is the way!
When you walk in the door you will see
The smiling faces of your family
Kiss them hello and have a good night
Be aware that the home you have worked so hard for
Is the place to rest and relax and say
I have done all I can for this day is done its with the
Family, wow I am sure gonna have some fun!
Copyright © Laurel Larison | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
Why should we live if we have
nothing to live for?
Why should we live if we have
nothing to die for?
Why should we live if
no one cares?
Why should we live if you're
loved by no one?
Why should we live if no
one likes you?
Why should we live if
no one loves you?
Each day is just a day
Each day is a day closer to death.
What's the point of living?
Some may say none,
Others may say why.
Why should we live?
Tell me and I will think about your answer.
Copyright © Brittany Moon | Year Posted 2010
I had to say good bye to my beloved kitty, Sydney. Syd-Syd as I called her, loved
to be held. Her favorite spot was on my shoulder, as if I were burping a baby,
she would sleep there for hours if I would allow. I would walk around with her
there doing my work, never once was she disturbed.
Before I married, she'd join me in praises to the Lord. As I sang along with my
favorite tapes, she would dance around as if she were chasing angles in the
room. Always jumping, looking upward and having what seemed to be a smile
on her face. This continued after I married too.
My husband noticed her favorite place on my shoulder and called her ‘my
growth’. He thought she was a special little cat.
She was a great traveler! She loved Nacho Chips or cheese, so when we
traveled, my husband loved feeding them to her because they gave her the
smelliest gas in the world! When we were in the car together with her, and then
got blasted with a ‘pooter’ ... I would turn every shade of green imaginable, and
he'd laugh! Because of course .... 'my growth' was on my shoulder, so I got the
She was the pet that was with me the longest .... 20+ years! She used to sit in
my lap and we would have a ‘meowing’ conversation, this could go on forever!
She would share .... (or should I say steal) bites of my peanut butter sandwiches,
sneak a lick or two of my chocolate ice cream or Instant Breakfast, when my head
She outlived several of our dogs, and in the year without a dog, she became
one. So when we again had dogs, my husband’s favorite, she continued sitting
at our feet begging with our dogs. Then there came a time to return to my
shoulder. The last few years she spent in front of the heater or curled in bed
under the covers at my side. She sometimes would sleep on a pillow next to
mine, and occasionally stretch herself across my head, I’d wake to a paw in my
eye or ear. If I made a move she disapproved of, she let me know in no uncertain
terms. Yeah, I’d say she was my growth!
I guess she was so much a part of me, that she had become ... ‘my growth’. I
know that now I feel a huge void in my life and household, because of that frail 4
lb kitty, when we had her put to sleep. That small cat made a HUGE gaping hole
in my heart now that she is gone. I loved her so. I miss 'my growth'!
Copyright © Bev Edwards - Walther | Year Posted 2007
(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 | Year Posted 2007
Sitting, I am graceful
And ever paceful.
I am waiting.
Waiting for you to die.
I let loose a slow soft purr
-I am content at the thought -
As I sit and stare,
At your body ageing,
No longer intimately engaging.
Even your once silvery-white shine
Has diminished to a dull grey.
Young and lean your were the night owl
Lurching, taut and on the prowl,
Lean: you sported no spare ounce,
You pull but I pounce.
Don't you know that cats eat birds, oh fair owl?
I look upon you now
Frail and infirm
An owl with broken wings
that still insists on trying to fly
I'm still waiting
Still waiting for you to die.
I swish from left to right
Angry that you still choose to fight.
You rasp for one last kiss
Trying to catch this final fleeting moment
The sound of our saliva – a discordant hiss
Your lips become still
Your hands limp
And just like that you pass.
In death you are serene
Framed within your silvery-white hair
Long-since-lost longing re-emerges
As I look upon your face so fair
In shame I hold my breath
and weep as I feel a sense of freedom
upon your death.
Now our home is different
Your painful moaning replaced by
The cloying sense of death
In the air
Replaced by the feel of
Soft soft fur.
His 'meow' wakes me
The sight of my tom-cat Teddy
True there were many of them – tiny tiny things
All big bright eyes
Pouncing with vivacity
Prowling with ferocity
But the failing, wobbly tomcat
Making the hissing sound
Inexplicably took my breath away.
I stroke his frail neck,
A barely audible purr responds,
He struggles to my lap
He no longer wants to play.
I stroke his once silvery-white fur
Now diminished to a dull grey.
Copyright © Rebecca Huxley | Year Posted 2017