Best Bloodhound Poems

Death sniffs around
until it finds the heel
works its way up to the throat.
Leaves a wet spot-on happiness and hope.
Two big black snotty holes, 
(one from...

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Dawn breaks over the horizon in a thin, frail line
my large snout presses downward upon the
ragged earth beneath, for I am on the hunt
absorbed in...

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The Bloodhound. 

He’s coming, yes he’s coming I know he is
I can smell him I know I can, Oh that bad scent 
You’d think he’d...

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Let me take you on an adventure,
Through insanities doors, to the land of dementia.
I guarantee you will be spellbound,
While holding on for dear life, riding...

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Sherlock
I met a man on the internet, but he’s not for me to date
He seems ok because he has a dog he loves, so I...

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The winter winds are frostily howling,
their bloodhound companions are searching
Under a crimson moon scarlet glowing

And I e-scapegoat dream
of a new life
On the other side of...

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There's a viscerally vial creature loosed,
Which is heinously hideous and vicious.
This barbarian monstrosity destroys people's vitality and flesh,
By raping and pillaging their lives,
Killing and ravaging...

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My wife found an Indonesian drum that she couldn’t live without,
It was a ceremonial one used to play for all who remain devout.

It had brightly...

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Black death

Death lives, tangled in the forest of darkness.
The black bloodhound stalks
the beasts in your dreaming.
The sun will be sucked from your sight
to blind you...

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All along
were you just a pretend friend
a beginning leading to a dead end
the polite one 
not wanting to offend
I've gone over and over
the things in...

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Is wedlock the true route to all conjugal bliss,
Nuptial excitement that starts with a kiss?
Or is it the halter after the altar,
That threatens to fetter...

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Not a day goes by I don't think of you
you have permeated my fortress and walk freely in all its rooms
(examining it's furnishings)
how did I...

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I awoke just as the ship exited the black hole
My mouth was dry, and the yearning for my love ones revisited my sole
Something moved, I...

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It was a good spot.
A spot near the bus stop.
A spot where on many days the air was filled with aroma
of fruits and vegetables from...

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© 2011 (by Jim Sularz)
(The true story of Frank Eaton – AKA “Pistol Pete”)

At the headwaters of the Red Woods Branch,
near a gentle slope on...

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