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Prose Poetry Pets Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Pets

These Prose Poetry Pets poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Pets. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Pets poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry |

A Man's best friend is his dog

 “A Man’s best friend is his dog” 

The phrase receives little refute 
Anecdotal history alone settles any dispute
but he’s just a dog all he needs to be is cute

Trustworthy loyal and dyeing to please                          
in return asking only to sniff around the trees
checking if  other dogs crossed their i’s or dotted their t’s

You bring him home because he is oh so adorable
Now that you’ve stepped in it it’s oh so horrable
making matters worse your mutt is now incorrigible

your dog will figure out how to pass the time away 
waiting for you to come home even if it takes all day
you’ve had to toss the things he’s trashed away
You know all he wants to do is play 
you break out the treats and teach him to sit and to stay
but this is not why he waited for for you all day -but OK

walking and fetching may be good clean fun
but long legged  dogs really love a good run

understanding dogs is not as easy as it seems
dogs like people take some things to extremes

We soon discover our dogs are a lot like us
so get to know him well and don’t make such a fuss 

              In Memory of our beloved Samson 
  see related poem: Tale of the Dog That Licked Me  

Copyright © Monty Newman | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

Thoughts from the Mind of a Blogger

It was a chilly morning in paradise...

Autumn was already here...

A time for strange things to happen, as it is that time of year...

She was up most of the night, doing a write....

Regarding some hubs and her series titled "Legend of Fred "

Ahh the questions she had... rolling around in her head..

Were “where were her readers, her followers “ her Hubbers...?

They had all seemed to like what she wrote in the past..

But lately her hubs were falling so fast....

She had written articles on health and life..

perhaps she had targeted too much strife...

Maybe they wanted to read about food..

But when you're not a cook, that would be kinda rude..

Oh, will wonders never cease ?

So she decided she'd get some zzzzz's

She lay in her bed, not moving at all...

but breathing quite deeply, as I saw the covers fall...

So I stretched my muscles and walked ever so slow..

So as not to wake her , then I spied her big toe..

Sticking out from the blanket..it was such a temptation..

And with me having such a" foot fixation".. however...

She needed the rest , so she can finish her quest..

I have some thoughts of my own...

that I would like to share in a poem..

And I would be happy to help her.. but..

I don’t think the world is ready for me...

as I am a BLOGGING CAT.. you see

So I will close for now...everyone have a great week...as

I'm off to seek something that has a tweak and a squeak..

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Tale of the Dog That Licked Me (a memoriam)

Poor old Sammy warming his tired bones in the morning sun
the passing car excited him so he forgot his age and tried to run

I got his breakfast ready something easy to chew with an added treat
placing his bowl within easy reach in time he comes to his feet to eat

I stroke his head and I am moved to reflect on the passing of time
In dog years he is as old as dirt surely neither of us are in our prime

Yesterday he could run like a little quarter horse doing what a dog does best
Today he contents him self with short walks, gentle play and plenty of rest

When he barks in his sleep his paws are on the run
 running and barking in his dream just having fun.

He’s a Weimaraner in love with a Great Dane her legs go all the way up
love is blind and he’s out of his league but that would be a beautiful pup

As he guards our home all nobel nosed wearing that doggy grin
I like to think his daydreams are of things that might have been
              In Memory of our beloved Samson 
  see related poem: A Man’s best friend is his dog

Copyright © Monty Newman | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

Spot Takes Teacher for a Walk


	You're so handsome, the best-looking one 
	in town. More importantly, I've never known 
	anyone so loyal! You truly are man's--I mean 
	MY--best friend. Now, now!  No neck nuzzling. 
	I have things to do. You're hungry? Okay, just 
	a healthy, crunchy snack for now. I'll grade a 
        few essays while you chow down.

        Ohhh, OK, I'll share the porch swing with you.
	A walk? Now? Well, all right. I want you to be
	happy. We'll just take a brief--Whoa! Not so
	blooming fast! I want to lead. Let's stay on the 
	sidewalk. May I lead--please? I'm supposed to 
	be walking YOU. Neighbors are pointing and 
	laughing-- except for Miss Daisy.	No, not her 
	prize-winning flower bed! Last week, her paper; 
	this week, her flowers. Haven't we tested her 
	Christianity enough? Aw, come on. If she wants 
	fertilizer . . .  Here she comes with a big stick!

	YOU'RE ready to go back now?
	Great! But first drag me to the clinic.
	Oh, my rotator cuff!

January 18, 2016

Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


Awaken me, Lord.
Open my ears that I may hear the voices,
Of those wo cry out for help.
Let me not be deaf to their pleas,
Lest they perish, because I would not hear.

Awaken me, Lord,
That I might make a difference.
Open my eyes that I may see those who suffer.
Let me not be blind to their needs,
Lest they perish because I would not see.

Awaken me, Lord.
Clear my mind that I may undersrtand the plight,
Of those who cannot help themselves.
Let me not be ignorant in my comfort,
Lest they perish because I was thoughtless.

Awaken me, Lord.
Open my heart that I may truly feel,
For all who suffer and have need.
Let me not be cold and unfeeling,
Lest they perish because I would not care.

Awaken me, Lord.
Loose my hands that I may reach out,
To those for whom You have suffered and died.
Let me not be lazy, or fearful of what others might think,
Lest they perish because I would not reach out.


Once when I was out walking I heard a dog screaming in agony begging to be let inside out of the cold. I just laughed to myself saying to myself that the dog was acting like she was dying out there. I paid her no mind sense the dog wasn't mine.
Later when I passed by again all was quiet. I figured the owner had let her in.
The owner wasn't home.
They went to school and to work forgetting the dog was still outside.
Just because it's an animal that doesn't mean they don't matter or "don't feel pain like we do". Pain is pain and it HURTS. They feel it like we do they just can't tell us because they can't speak our language but they speak in every other way if we will just listen.
That dog died in agony because I didn't listen and her owners FORGOT ABOUT HER.

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

Melancholy Mood

 My collie dog,
a mellon she has
 seen, there...
her feeling very

my collie ate
 that mellon,
was filled with...

Now my collie in her
 grave, for this...
mellon proved too
 sour, now there...
on her gravestone,
a Melon-Cauliflower

Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

It Must Be Puppy Love

Love and faithfulness live together - Psalm 85:10

Throughout the ages,
Family pets have served.
Faithful til the end,
Many have observed.

Do they know how to love,
As humans think they do?
Look into their eyes,
The rest is up to you.

Watch those tails a swinging,
There's a story to be told.
This is how a puppy loves,
Worth much more than gold.

They do not need a reason,
As many humans do.
It is their gift from God,
Especially for you.

But if you do not understand,
This passion that is so.
Follow our little tails,
They will show you how to go.

Chicken fresh for breakfast,
Roast beef at dinner time.
Sirloin steak so often,
Am glad that you are mine.

Snacks available all day long,
Special ones when you depart.
Is it any wonder then,
That you control our hearts.

Today you are special,
We thank our Lord above.
Thank you for being my mommy,
We will smother you with love.


Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Brave Soldier

Eleven years ago, my father died.
Divorced from my mother when I was two, 
he was a stranger to me most of my life.
I had no tears as the Marine handed me the flag.
He said, "This is a gift from the President of the
United States in honor of the service that your father
gave to his country". 

Five years ago, as my mother died,
I touched her face and held her hand -
something she never allowed when we were children.
I told her everything was all right
and she could let go.
My eyes were dry, she had no funeral.

Later that year,
my husband packed his suitcase.
He told me of his plans
to find his "spiritual path", and left.
I said nothing and went inside.

But last night, my sweet little Aussie
stumbled and fell, unable to move.
With wide eyes slightly opaque,
her dear face grey around the muzzle,
she told me, its time.

This sweet companion,
faithful and brave, has only asked
for my presence in her life.

This morning, I awoke,
and I cried a  child,
with my mouth open,
eyes streaming,
nose running.

Copyright © Susan Raineri | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry |

Pity Trip

Pity Trip
July 24, 2011

I need to die
And I know why
The pity trip
My soul to rip
I have no life
So full of strife
No one knows
How can they
There is no way
Shall I stay another day
WHY oh Why
I just want to die
But what of Darla
My only friend
What will happen to her
She is the only one who needs and wants me
She is the my freedom
She soothes my soul
And makes me whole
She always knows
When I am down
With the whole world closing around
I need my puppy so
And only she will ever know
Now I must go
To where I do not know

Copyright © William Moore | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Last Door

The Last Door
Arabic Poem By: Ali Al-Iskandari*
Translated by: 
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)

I don’t have a thing in this world  but my heart and my poem
 If you loved me for my heart, my poem would remain 
 A homeless orphan searching amidst the claws of sadness 
 For a traitor man who deserted her
 and fled with a woman.
 If you loved me for my poem,
 My heart would die of the cold.
 So take me in your hands, a romantic heart
 And a poem from the heart,
As my heart alone without the poem is a ruin, 
And my poem alone
Is a lie.


 When you enter my heart, don’t close the door; 
A flock of doves is behind you,
It follows you from The Thousand Nights; 
And, also, behind you
Are the treasures of the East,
The brides of Babylon,
The crowns of kings,
And a bird waiting for permission
Since the beginning of the creation.

And when you go out of my heart
Be more magnanimous and leave me a little bit of warmth
And a handful of your luminous days
As I’ve been besieged by the cold since the first Ice Age
And there is not a drop of oil 
In my lamp. 

Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi

* Ali Al-Iskandari is an Iraqi poet.

Copyright © Inaam Al-Hashimi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |


	Kitten-play is sweet;
	a precious jewel of a moment renewed 
	by each new discovery.

	A butterfly-chase ending in a bumblebee moment
	of enlightenment and sometimes
	a succeeding “ouch”!
	The butterfly is a more hospitable playmate.

	Graceful leap into a patch of soft delicate wormwood;
	A tree-leap, a prick on the nose from a rosebush;
	it’s about as friendly as the bumblebee!

	A jet-sprint to the patio results in a
	back and forth stretched-roll on the warm concrete.
	The pose that says, “I like this place; can I stay?”

	Perhaps on another adventurous day
	kitten will discover,
	the catnip bush at the far end of the yard.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Beauty Surrounds

Beauty Surrounds
June 27, 2011

See the wonders of the world
As they pass to us unfurled
Such an amazing light
Sun shining so bright
Flying on the wing
Hear the birds sing
The grass so green
Such a sight has you ever seen
The lilies in bloom
Orange hue in their flume
I see stars in my head
Of the roses so deeply red
The crate myrtles so pink 
They cause me to blink
Birds sitting in the trees
Catching the cool summer breeze
Dogs continually play
Let them stay and have their way
The fluffy clouds so high
Up, up high in the sky
The trees they sway
In the wind they play
The magnolia blooms
The beautiful pearly white flumes
The scent so pungent
So sweet to the smell
The bees they separate
Jump from flower to flower to pollinate
God’s wonderful earth
Created for our birth
We shall begin again
From now until the end

Copyright © William Moore | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

Midnight On A Saturday Morning

Midnight On Saturday Morning
By Curtis Johnson

It was just past 7:00 AM on an early and sunny Saturday morning                                      
As I walked past my grandson’s cat, she looked up at me,                                                                                                         Clearly realizing that it was her feeding time
With eyes and ears already focused on other things,
I walked on by, paying her no mind

I felt the cool morning breeze flowing through the Sacramento Valley
I heard the leaves in the trees as they swayed just a little, from the flow
Of the soft and gentle wind
I knew that I was not in heaven, when I heard the sound of traffic from
A major street a few blocks away
Moments later, there was the sound of an airplane in the distant sky
That’s when I noticed that the sky was clear and free, and no dark clouds did I see 

As I looked to my left, I was arrested by a most gorgeous cactus blossom waving to me                             I could not help but stare, as it was dressed so lovely in captivating pink
Then I observed the progress of our nectarine tree, and knew that it was going
To bear some sweet fruit this summer too.

My ears tuned in to the sound of the mild banging of a hammer from somewhere close by
Then I was entertained by a happy bird or two, whistling like they usually do.                                             I must say, that the things they speak about, whistle about, chirp about, and sing about                                are most beautiful to my ears

As I paced back and forth across my back yard and along the walk way,                                                      I sensed a peaceful Presence, and could not help but utter a prayer of thanksgiving to God
As I was thinking and meditating, observing and listening, it began to get brighter
As I looked over my left shoulder, I spotted an explosion of light from the sun,
Slowly rising out of the Eastern sky

I looked once more at that beautiful pink cactus flower, and it was ever so stunning to me
As the flower continued to wave to me, I’m sorry to say that I could not resist the 
Temptation to pull it.  I later placed the beautiful flower in my granddaughter’s vase next
To her lovely picture. As I turned to go inside, I looked once more at “Midnight”, and fed her.

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |



I call her Movie
Because she moves day and night
A shadow drama on the white wall
Winks for milk
Her world cringes into a saucer
She mews
Says me and you
We make this world for each other

Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

They Care!

A noise is heard, I go out to investigate, 
it is back where the cows are, moon covered by heavy clouds, 
shines through slightly, spooky and cold this night, 
growling now louder, have to get to the cows. 
Ok made it, they are ok ,babies too, so cute they are.
Looking around now growling again, 
louder more angry sounding,
 flashlight getting dim, shines in deep woods, 
only two eyes reflected, growls getting closer. 
What could it be didn’t know coyotes growled, 
deep voice? Bear! 
didn’t know there were bear around here, oh how I hope not. 
Cows must sense extreme danger,
I have my pistol to protect them, (why didn’t I bring my rifle), 
they surround me, not letting me through, 
could not get a clear shot, please move. 
So strange I never knew.
 Heart beating faster and faster, 
stop thinking, concentrate,
please go away I don’t mean you harm. 
Hours pass, growls further away now.
 Time to relax. 
They protected me, 
they care!


Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry |

My growth!

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 
full impact!

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 
was turned.

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

Details | Prose Poetry |

Rip Rippy

It was long ago,
Whilst I was still going to college,
Way back during the dawn of mankind,
Still living with my first wife, with my parents,
And my beloved mutt-dog, Rippy...
A smallish, black dog,
Long a part of the family,
He loved cheese, like all Bells,
And hated harmonicas, I guess,
As he would howl when my father played...
But we didn't know that then,
We thought the cutie was merely singing along...
Well, Rippy was in the habit of being let out,
On his own, as we had a big yard,
And always came back without incident...
Until one winter's day, when he never returned...
All hearts were broken,
But none more than mine...
I went out after a snow storm tapered off,
Found his frozen carcass in a street nearby,
And buried him, not an easy task,
In the frozen back yard ground...
Set up a cross,
Although he never admitted to a religion...
And sadly resumed my routine...

Two days later, I came home from C.C.N.Y.,
One afternoon, via bus and subway...
When I came in the door,
My young first wife, Ann, and my mother,
Greeted me with mysterious, mischievous smiles...
They told me to close my eyes,
They would take me inside my parents'
Sealed close bedroom, for a surprise...
Great mystery was evident,
And it was evident they were enjoying
My perplexed looks...

Well, I did as told,
They took me into my parents bedroom,
I was told to open my eyes,
I did, and there on the bed,
Was my beloved Rippy!!
I was delighted, of course,
But wondering if this was some evil magic,
As I had buried him some days prior,
But no, it was Rip, and he was find,
Just a bit skinnier than usual.

So, who had I buried?
To this day I don't know,
But what are the odds,
A dog of similar shape and size,
Should appear dead, frozen,
Directly across the street?

Was his whitish frozen hue
The reason I was fooled?
I don't know,
But I was so overjoyed,
To have my favorite dog of all times, back...

When he ultimately did die...
My wife was gone from the scene,
And my dog died in my arms...
And if I live to be 600,
And have 100 dogs more
Before I die,
I will always miss my Rippy most,
So deeply did he I adore.

For Rhoda, who is about to lose a favored cat,
whose posted picture proved that
that particular cat was gorgeous
beyond normal expectations.   tom bell

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007