Best Bo Poems
You entered my life when yours seemed grim,
affected lonesome heart on a chancy whim.
Weak and sick, you fought to justly live,
knowing indeed, you had loads of loyalty to give.
Wiry - thick- gray mane crowned your debonair grace,
accenting strength and slenderness to your youthful face.
Fourteen years you honored our humble abode,
strutting whole backyard, showing off what you owned.
Age griped your lean physique, riddled your body and soul,
deep down inside, I knew it was your moment to go.
One night you slipped away in the moon-less dark,
took my love - my first feline - but left your mark.
My sweet Simon - my Sam Bo, appeared by either name,
when you adorned my home, my life has not been the same…
Copyright © 2016 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Second Place Winner ~ "I Love My Pets” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
Feb. 18, 2016
1/20/16
To My Favorite Golden Retriever Bo
(I adopted my sister's doggie after she died)
You're beautiful golden hair,
With a splash of gray on your face,
And so what if your fur,
Is all over the damn place.
If you gave me your coat,
I'd make it into a blanket.
I'd stay warm all night,
Without you I couldn't make it.
When your first mommy died,
You had crazy distractions,
For you lost your soul mate,
And you needed a connection.
So I swept you in my arms,
And gave you a warm bed.
We welcomed you with hugs,
As I slowly rubbed your head.
So my little family of four,
Turned to five overnight,
Oh how I prayed you'd love us,
And take away your fright.
Yesterday the vet came,
Your body is full of cancer,
It was all so very sudden,
I had questions needing answers.
So tonight you're here in my arms,
As I gently rub your ear,
And I think about you leaving me,
As I gently wipe a tear.
How will I know,
When it's the right time?
Time to make that terrible decision,
For you to close your eyes.
Your beautiful golden hair,
With a splash of gray on your face,
My love for you soars,
Right through time and space.
Old Mother Goose
Frankly speaking was rather loose
The neighborhood was shocked and all in a dander
When she had a brief affair with a well-feathered Gander
When the news reached Jack and Jill
They took that tumble down the hill
Poor Jill lost her drawers and good gracious alive!
Little Jack got a rise in his tattered Levis...
"Let us talk alone for our morning meal. I'm not so BahhhD really. We are not the same you and I. We have a commonness between us. Which makes us seem familiar. Are we all sheep like they say we are? If you are so unique, then why do you follow the herd? Are we all the same? Why do you believe in liars? You are all sheep. Your shepherd leads you to the slaughter while protecting you from the wolves."
"Bahhhh Bahhhh Bahhhh"
Mary had a little lamb,
Little Bo Peep lost them,
Call me a Black Sheep, I am,
Thinking out of the box may cost them.
Rolling on the floor laughing,
Laughing out loud,
Why am I standing here gaffing,
I must catch back up to the crowd.
I remember one that seemed tasty,
I think I'll have it for lunch,
A Black Sheep with fangs may appear crazy,
I'm merely a wolf in sheep's clothing on the hunt!
Bo, half-blind Dachshund Dog,
Barked and barked at the groundhog
Burrowed in the dampen ground.
Groundhog emerging from its home
Squinting from the brilliant sun
To see Bo groomed with red hearts
In his eyes, complaining none;
Went back down into the ground
Back with a handful of heart shape tarts.
2/14/2021
Nursery Rhyme
when i got home from school
my mother was watching
oprah again
with a shopping bag
of ice on her knee
when i asked her
what happened
she said
“i dont want to talk about it”
and later i found out
she was working out
to a tae bo dvd
when her knee
popped out of her socket
and nobody was home
and she doesnt drive
and she had no friends
so she had to pop it
back into her socket
herself and she said
it was the worst day
of her life
Bo feasted on roasted silkworm seed
And felt in his stomach a stampede
Newton's third law of motion
A dollop of e-motion
A commotion, on Po's head he peed
© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
18 December 2014
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep!
Serves her right for fallin' asleep!
Pa wasn't happy about this turn of events,
And sent her to bed after spankin' her pants!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
It happened again to Bo Peep.
She'd gone off and lost all her sheep.
Met a woodsman named Ted
They spent time in his shed.
Bo cared not a Peep about sheep!
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Little Bo Peep ignored her flock
She let Ted undo her tight frock
They had passionate sex
In his parent’s duplex
The poor sheep they all ran amock.
BY JAN ALLISON
Exhausted Bo Peep had to lay down her head
But Ted kept one sheep in back of the shed
Since she was unable
He hid under a table
So his sheep was the first to be Ted bred!
BY PAT ADAMS
Now rested, Bo woke in disgust
To find ewe and Ted in mid-thrust
So she took some pink pills
Then she ran for the hills
Looking for one she could trust!
BY DEAN WOOD
You were a small surprise
The apple of many eyes
Joy and pain became your lot
The why, I'll never know
Three years was all you got
Bittersweet you lived Bo
Now Jesus has you rejoicing
Running around his throne.
Mom and Dad will see you again, anticipating
Praying and preparing
Ask Jesus to comfort their hearts....
Pray for the Story family they lost a small child to brain cancer this week.
A reckless tale indeed in losing all of her sheep
In not seeing such need she just went to sleep
All of her sheep strayed in her not being around
Having all been sleighed when she finally found
The Shepherd is the key as how the herd will do
Dangers they can not see just like me and you
The Shepherd, "who created Heaven and Earth"
Says in His Own Word He knew you before birth
Our watchful Lord with His Mercy always at hand
So worshiped and Adored by they who understand
But the rest of the herd wondering off in the meadow
None of it has even occurred for what do sheep know
It was Jesus who called us sheep in knowing our way
He also said many would weep in so choosing to stray
Be not of a little Bo Peep, carefully choosing a Shepherd
Not being like those who will weep, or hasn't it occurred
Entry for the Golden Age of Music Poetry Contest, sponsored by Oliver McKeithan, March 2025, Second Place.
I dreamed of Johnny Cash last night,
his music spoke to me,
I said I thought that you were dead,
but music lives said he,
but music lives said he.
From Folsom, to Fort Bend,
for every soul behind bars,
he asked if we could say a prayer,
then picked up his guitar,
then picked up his guitar.
He sung to me of Ira Hayes,
words that rung in my ears,
the world of reservations,
with all those rivers of tears,
with all those rivers of tears.
We talked and talked of music,
country, hip hop and blues,
how Bo Diddley and Beyoncé,
can move our blue suede shoes,
can move our blue suede shoes.
I dreamed of Johnny Cash last night
surprised to see him back,
I said I thought that you were dead,
but he was still dressed in black,
but he was still dressed in black.
A shepherd girl named Bo Peep lost her sheep and her Jeep
And didn't know where to find them.
She fell asleep stoned,
When she woke they were gone,
Leaving hoof prints and tire tracks behind them.
She offered as ransom a handsome reward
And assured there'd be no repercussions.
Then the cops said, "Go home
And wait by the phone
For the culprit to call with instructions."
They nabbed an indigent herder who confessed to the murder
Of all of her sheep and to stealing her Jeep.
But still Little Bo Peep lost her job herding sheep,
And then, to her added dismayment,
She lost her practically new Jeep Grand Cherokee, too,
When she couldn't keep up with the payments.
Let this be a lesson, boys and girls, when you're grown
And are working and making it all on your own.
Though it is an annoyment, you only get unemployment,
If you're laid off, not fired,
From the place you were hired.
WEE WILLIE BO By Tony Adamo...
In the heart of the Delta, where the Mississippi flows, Wee Willie Bo, a soulful storyteller, arose.
Twelve-bar phrases, a blues rhythm so fine, Blue notes whisper secrets, like aged wine.
From sharecropper roots, his journey took hold, in the fields of hard labor, he crafted his plan to unfold.
With John Hurt’s country blues etched in his mind, he dug way deep, seeking solace in the new blues sound he would find.
Man, he found the Chicago blues scene, electric and way down raw, where his voice flew way high, breaking every law.
Amazing blues vocals, aching in pain, each note a tear, each chord a haunting refrain. Low down and gritty, he sang of hard times, bad times, struggles, and heartbreaks, the rhythm and rhymes.
Delta blues chords danced in the air, the blues in his soul was his love affair, and the sorrow in his melodies recorded in despair.
Wee Willie Bo a blues talkin’ man, with every strum of the guitar, Bo rewrote the blues jam. His broken-down soul is a testament to grace, In the world of the weary, he found his place. listen closely, and let the blues take hold. For every note, there’s a story told. From the Delta to Chi-town, his legacy flows, and Wee Willie Bo, the heart of the blues, forever grows.
Billy Bo Bob, woodsman his job
Was a hunter of faded flannel flair
He whittled wood with two left feet
And used Quaker State in his hair
He picked his teeth with a straw of hay
And slept between the bales
But never missed a sunrise sing
Because his wall was driven by nails
Born in the backwoods, a man’s frontier
Where the only trails were fear
Billy trapped bears as he wrestled gators
And swiped jerky from passing deer
With his snakeskin boots striking roots
He could outrun the whirl of whistling trees
Until one day he fell from sight
As a rogue breeze knocked him to his knees
Billy shielded his eyes and squinted at the sky
Thinking God had unleashed his wrath
When low and behold, armed with a bow
Something cute and fuzzy stood in his path
Now Billy wasn’t dumb, just a special type of conundrum
For he could neither read nor write
But he'd be damned if a furry little fox, no bigger than a box
Would leave him in an unfettered fright
Before Billy could breathe…beg, plea, or somehow flee
That cute and fuzzy fox shot him in the most fleshy of spots
With an arrow forged from the crow of a unemployed cock
Billy shouted in wretched pain, as he came up lame
Wondering how in the hell this could be the end
When speaking for men, quoting his favorite hen
The fox hungrily quipped, “Who needs civilized friends?”