Best Black Dog Poems
Its raven skin follows without a 'woof,'
no bark no bite,
darker than a shadow in sunlight.
It reflects in the mirror,
staring with 'Edgar Allan Poe,' ebony eyes.
At dawn it's at the bedside,
wanting to wander into the morning mist.
At twilight it rests its head on my pillow,
stalking, into my sleep.
It sits on the passenger seat,
without a seatbelt, unfocused,
unconcerned, like it has no need to exist.
It plods slowly around the office,
slumping forward, back curved like a 'jack knife.'
Colleagues ignore its obsidian paws,
sore from scabs, resting on the desk.
Its head droops with my sullen, dull ache.
Its tongue looks rough, no saliva drips -
a bit like my cracked lips.
We both seem to breathe in dry air,
as it feeds on my molasses mind.
It has no interest in sticks nor treats,
nor cares to leave my side.
A sinister magnetic faithfulness.
Unmoved, as I vomit black bile.
I wonder how is he a man's best friend?
"Black Dog Barks"
I feed the beast pieces of my heart
Black Dog Barks
prowling inside my parametres silky soft paws
Black Dog Barks
I feed the Jabberwock pieces of my mind
this is how it begins torn and bloody
I feed the Jabberwock pieces of my mind
the mirror smiles back and says, gracefully
“You’re fine”
The mirror smiles back and says, malevolently
“I own you now, you’re all mine”
Black Dog Barks
Prowling inside my parametres silky soft paws
this is how it begins bloody and torn
“You’re fine”
This is how it begins bloody and torn
murders all inside, revelry unholy
I smile and walk out into the cold Sunshine
Black Dog Barks
“It’s quantitative”
Science looking for signs
reflection of stars
sparkling irises silver violet
wrapped in a cutting sea of ebony
walking barefeet on glass inviolate
dodging sharp teeth and fins
the mind bleeds fast
Black Dog Barks
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
“If I had a Heart”/ Fever Ray
https://youtu.be/EBAzlNJonO8
Iris.
The colored part of the eye which helps regulate the amount of light entering the eye. When there is bright light, the iris closes the pupil to let in less light. And when there is low light, the iris opens up the pupil to let in more light.
Iris.
https://www.vincentvangogh.org/irises.jsp
https://www.notablebiographies.com/Tu-We/van-Gogh-Vincent.html
https://digest.bps.org.uk/2018/01/03/heres-what-the-evidence-shows-about-the-links-between-creativity-and-depression/
When first freed from mother's skirt, still arrayed in white,
dew kissed, peach sweet, blush cored, I dove into
love, Persephone pierced; where ox-eyed daisies grew
within a field abreast a Roman ... in daylight.
Dry merlot overcast the blooded spot on site
where passion flowered upon the box stitched blue
quilt Grandmother with constancy had imbued.
Yet, youth was not enough to make the man contrite.
An omen ran through red bee balm, a hound of black
long-limbed, loosed to pursue the brazen few who dared
to lay unabashed in sunlight, the farmer stared back
from the porch; he saw them run, saw yarrow in her hair.
Ill fated yes, but first love is honeyed and that is a fact;
nothing's sweeter than a maid undressed in open air.
Oh, yes indeed, you thought you had lost him.
All was well, you thought you're on easy street.
Your pathway was strewn with flowers and then
nothing to look forward to but to greet
grandchildren at the door, parcel out love,
forbearance accumulated in a
lifetime. Live life orderly and above
the board you built from illusions just a
little and dreams just a lot. One dark night
you awoke. That dark canine of chaos
and despair was back, sniffing, scratching right
there at your front door, the side of your house,
indomitable and stupid and near,
drawn like a dog to the heat of your fear.
As I proceed to indite in reluctancy
A vortex in my mind opens up to me
With my imagination running wild
Is it no wonder I feel beguiled
So much in there, oh what to choose
I have my sanity to lose
My feet in mud, my head held low
No thought neatly in a row
So many thoughts to contemplate on
When one enters, a dozen are gone
My love is vast and covers many things
Remaining open for new ones it brings
Give me one woman here to kiss:
my agony would turn to bliss
my cottonballs would turn to brain
give me that sweet, bitter, pain
Moving the tide and changing the subject
and take a moment on my life to reflect
if at all it is possible for one to create
a contented mind before it’s too late
A black dog joins me in the void
that's me, I'm mightily annoyed
give me a ladder to climb out
I'll treat you to a stout!
***
August 5, 2017
Copyright © White Wolf and Darren White
Ahh and so if surfaces
The black dog
The evil lerking soul
Like a precipice
That cracked mirror
It drags me towards
And dares
Look at you hideous beast
'I dare look and see'
'What now the terror of my being'
'What do you want me to do'
'Come on I say with a handful of pills'
It smiles and snarls and moves its body
Like a dog about to strike
It smiles
'Not today, I wouldn't waste even my time on you'...
The Black dog follows me;
Down the dark lanes and pathways of the years;
Over the wide, cold chasms in the night,
With steady, even pace, I am pursued.
I lift my torch, to survey the darkness all about;
My hand is trembling, and my breath is short,
Yet I hear the soft shuffle of his feet as he draws near.
Black dog, where are you tonight?
I hear a low growl from his throat,
Why do you follow me?
I scream and beat the air with my flame.
I did not summon you.
He recedes then circles round again,
Circling, circling in the darkness.
I cannot run, I cannot hide.
He circles and comes round again, in slow advance.
Sharp teeth glisten in the firelight;
As he howls at the moon.
Always just beyond my torchlight;
Always there yet not in arms reach.
Through the long years he follows;
Hot breath lusting for my throat.
Yellow eyes there in the blackness;
Thirsting, thirsting for my soul.
Howl, Black dog you'll never get me,
Though we dance for a thousand mid-nights.
I have a strength not of the darkness.
I hear you howl at the moon.
The black dog comes without warning
it meanders inside my head
teasing me, testing me, pushing me to
the limit of human endurance.
I hate my weakness. I abhor the crazy
mixed up tears that roll valiantly down
my pale grey cheeks, fatigue envelopes
me in an ice cold shower - I shiver.
There is no respite from pain, though I
beg these feelings to desist. In this dull
ruinous life love lays in the black midden
Where the faeces is rancid on a summers day.
Is it just the grave that awaits me? NOOOO
Perish the thought, I need to live before I die.
I sit upon my garden seat, I pretend not to see that
black rook, I know it is waiting to pick my bones.
I open my little black book, erase all the names of
my past lovers. I pray to the Lord to forgive my
past. Please Lord, let me live before I die...
Release the black dog that haunts me so.
Hold your tongue don't speak in haste.
Your words could hurt or humiliate.
Offer help and give them hope
don't take them down but lift them up.
You don't know about their inner lives
the big black dog could be close by
to take there hope and self esteem.
Please remember don't be mean.
The big black dog he does note care
and he can strike anywhere
the rich the poor tall or short
he really does not care, beware.
I didn't write this for a competition as such but on depression
and thought it got the message across and its something I feel
needs highlighting so entered in one of the any poem comps contest number 223
comp entry 19/11
My uncle said he’d seen a dog,
Come down his path one day.
But not aware who’s dog this was,
He shouted, “Go Away!”
The dog looked up at him, then left,
It ‘faded’ out of sight.
He then knew who his guest had been,
This dog was black as night.
This was the dog that visits us,
At times when death is near.
To help guide those who leave this life,
The ones that we hold dear.
While walking down her garden path,
My auntie died next day.
The warning that my uncle had,
He’d tried to turn away.
An operation had gone wrong,
Our daughter was in pain.
Nothing that the doctors knew,
Could make her well again.
Then when we visited one night,
We shuddered when she said.
A big black dog was also there,
And playing ‘round her bed.
But she seemed a little stronger,
Though we knew whom she had seen.
We thought he’d told of someone else,
And wondered why he’d been.
Alas, it wasn’t meant that way,
That week our daughter died.
I know within my heart of hearts,
Our dog would be her guide.
For many years he’d not been seen
Though others close have died.
Maybe, he only comes to those,
Who need him by their side.
When sitting in a meeting room,
A stranger came to me,
And said he had a message,
About something he could see.
Two dogs he said, were by my side,
Both looked as black as night.
Although the little one looked old,
His fur was tinged with white.
Again I shrugged this message off,
I didn’t think at all.
But while we were on holiday,
We got that dreadful call.
Our ‘Lucky’ had just had a stroke,
Our son was going ‘round.
But when he reached the kennels,
Just his earthly shell he found.
Three times within our memory,
Our spirit dog’s appeared,
To warn us of the saddest things,
That we have ever feared.
But though he is an omen,
That we’ll lose someone we love,
It comforts us to truly know,
He’ll guide their path above.
This dog had been my grandma’s dog,
I knew till I was five.
But now she’s living proof to us,
That all our souls survive.
Ivor G Davies
Hello hound from hell
Pretending to cower in the corner
Dripping, snarling fangs
Come to feast
On all I have.
I scavenge what little remains
Making do with what’s left:
the debris
the refuse
the dregs
the waste
- the things the hound didn’t want
Chewed up.
And spat back out.
What’s left is tainted
Drenched in the same gloopy dew
The halitosis of hell
Lingers on what’s left of me.
My love - its litter
For all its leavings
Pungent, hot and steamy
- not at all what I had imagined passion to be.
My strength - its chew toy
Tattered pieces
Litter the halls
Of my tooth-marked heart.
My confidence - a forgotten memory
The hound’s indelible presence
Has me wet
With the mark of its territory
My hope - a hopeless game of tug of war
I pull and hold on
Until my hands and heart
are bloody raw.
Rebecca .A. Huxley
The black dog
I don’t always sing a happy song
The black dog bites and I’m all gone
And I can’t see the sunshine then
Wasted days are not my friend
So I wait for it to pass
To make me want my life to last
There is no need to contemplate
When all you can do is sit and wait
So I see others with lives so clear
And I wonder how I get to there
Who makes the decision meant for me
When all I want is to live life free.
© Paul Warren Poetry
You are a noose
Not letting me breathe
Like a soundproof room
The thoughts locked inside my head
You are a mask of joy
Hiding my fear behind your crooked smile
Like the coming winter, you creep in slowly
And fill me with a deep-seated chill
Frozen in the cold
I wait for Spring to thaw my bones
I can't remember a time without you.
You've always been here, following one step behind.
I've always known where our path would go.
It's time for you to lead, old friend.
I will follow.
It disgusts me to the very den of my inner barren stomach
Rising on haunches like a broken ballerina
Fat pregnancy with clotted matted fur along the under quarters
It snarls in vapid plagiarisms and turns its neck like clockwork
Half of a dog and half of a bear
Dragging part-lingering its wasteful stumps
Like jungle monsters, it walked fat on its claws
Curled underneath and imbedded in the pads
With my wide eyes and my tiny mouth carved
I half-life curdle and shrink into my neighbouring trees
Awaiting the coated procrastination of winters
When I shall freeze within my flesh tomb and the
Beast shall be gone, sleeping with blood about those
Weathered obese blocks and a mouth frozen to the central nerves
A metro tunnel falling down the Devil throat and cut at the cord
One black dog in a woodland ashen day
Falling grey thunders under heavy black God
And the rampant inadequecies of flame and pitchfork
As those villagers rise upon their haunches
On this, the gut-cutting nausea of the blackest of black dog days.