Best Brindle Poems
The rosa blanda embroidering your face
will become the veins in my tongue reaching to clog my throat
go past the tonsils and vocal chords and windpipe
down and down still, burrowing into the esophagus
relentless in its pursuit, just, just, just to lay seeds in my chest
tumor a pea, peanut, grape, walnut, lime, matilija, peach, grapefruit
straining muscle surprising itself with the ability to withstand the stretch
craving asphyxiation, those lungs may covet paroxysm
but grieve not the fulfillment of a destiny
this ache, this devastation was meant to be
no, they won’t be careful of what they wish for
you’ll become the air I swallow, and the organ that inhales and exhales it both
viciously lush beauty anywhere and everywhere
so when you see the body that used to be mine,
you’ll gasp in horror or awe or both: which one? I’ll never know
the garden you planted nurses no speech, nor soil, nor hope of infertility
just a promise of bloom and perpetual harvest
a pretty letter from dainty lips, viscous honey quenching its thirst
a giddy blush warming embryos out of stout cases
a brush of apple-sun cheeks dawning moonlight-budding leaves
just a gaze and my heart will melt,
sand that brazenly melds into laminated glass
gifted to strong hands smothered in peppermint lotion
who will keep it safe in their loops, whorls, and arches
brindle cedar irises roots to this infatuation
their existence cruel to a poet who only knows
words mere facets unworthy of describing
fields of cosmoses a cosmos itself
choking on fantasies and tears of scarlet drupes,
I retch out garlands born in guileless meadows
and as the last petal falls,
the sweetest rose hip takes branch
its only sin a love too big
Love brought many kitties; each one special.
Some colors solid, others were brindle.
They come in big sizes and some of them small.
No matter how they look, I like them all.
My first fluffy kitty was beautiful, white.
One eye was blue and the other one green.
He grew to become a beautiful sight.
His silky soft fur in sunlight would sheen.
A once feral kitty came to live at my house.
She’d run, slip, and slide excited, wide eyed.
One day with great pride she brought home a mouse.
Unhappy day; she let it go inside!
There was that winter and the Christmas tree.
Our kitty knocked some ornaments around.
It was really a funny sight to see.
Until she knocked the whole tree to the ground!
Some cats are mousers, but others think twice.
Some live in houses and some with wildlife.
Cats can be naughty or they can be nice.
Either way they are fun, the spice of life.
1/8/2017
Written especially for Brenda Chirl-Carrol’s granddaughter &
For the Love of Kitties Contest
It was bucking bulls and cowboy busting broncos
And the challenge that accompanied each ride
That consumed the heart and mind of my young cowboy
And this fact my Buddy never tried to hide.
I recall the time we met in Kelly’s diner
He was busted up and feeling rather sore
But the cheque that paid the tab that I presented
Seemed to him to somehow even up the score.
He had eaten there that week and got acquainted,
And I somehow got to know this cowboy’s mind
while the flowers that he gave me on that Friday
Surely showed beside his toughness, he was kind.
We were married in the summer six months later,
On a Friday I recall so very well,
Because Fridays he would always buy me flowers
And then go and ride those bulls and broncs from hell.
Buddy always bought me flowers on a Friday
As he knew I feared the rides that lay ahead
But my man his heart and soul was in his riding
And I loved this cowboy that I planned to wed.
Yes he always bought me flowers on a Friday
And I loved this cowboy that I planned to wed.
All our friends had shared that special evening with us
And we raged and partied well into the night,
Then we slipped away to share the morning hours,
Til the dawn rose and revealed its splendid light.
We both showered and had breakfast at the roadhouse
Laughed and shared the joy that comes with wedded bliss,
But I sensed a certain tiredness in my Buddy
And I prayed he’d give the ride that day a miss.
Buddy drew the brindle bombshell riders hated
And that beast exploded when it left the chute,
Twisting left then right and suddenly it stumbled
And my Buddy he was crushed by that great brute.
When it came to say goodbye to my sweet lover
There was one thing that I vowed I’d always do
I would always bring him flowers on a Friday
And I’d tell his child about his father too.
.
“Bud I’ll always bring you flowers on a Friday”
That’s the one thing that I vow I’ll always do.
Cause you always brought me flowers on a Friday
And your child will always bring you flowers too.
Yes I’ll always bring you flowers on a Friday
And your child will always bring you flowers too.
From my chair
Through the air
I want my info now
Truth or dare
I don’t care
Give me info now
Hip wired infolites
Something bout usage rights
Whereas my info wow
Flying flags ever knowing
Looking back never going
Here’s my info now
Meaning without content
Exists without it being sent
The contents meaning slowly dies
Contending feeds on sorefull eyes
Mercy typo pings brindle blogger
Immortal mention 2 NSA loggers
Wikimaster with google goggles
Seeks truthess acknak for boondoggle
Give me just a little push
My parental burning bush
Life lite the snippet deluxe
Youtube the world gone amuck
Bill Bulldog we had named him
with his brindle coloured coat
He had the most amazing face
too many wrinkles for one so young
mischievous, cuddly and full of fun
At first the only sounds he made
that first night all alone
heartbreaking cries
he missed his Mum
He’ll settle soon in his new home
That wonderful scent of puppy
Reminiscent of a newborn babe
His coat so soft just newly grown
I watched in wonder as he slept
A Mum in love with her new pet
His face so handsome like no other
a face that could only be loved by his Mother
so many expressions you would not believe
defiant, pathetic, look at me, can we play
melting my heart each and every day
He always knew when I was down
his insight was spot on
Sitting close, head on my knees
so full of sensitivity
Sending his love into my soul
I slowly emerged from the deepest hole
The traits of a Bulldog are fairly surprising
when you first take a look at his face
So don’t be alarmed even though he looks fierce
as a bad bone would be, so very hard to trace
Only sweetness and light
for my Bill would not bite
though he’d lick you to death that’s for sure
Even welcome a stranger into his domain
but would want him to stay there forevermore
For a Bulldog really loves company
he hates to be alone
but once you are there
he will climb on your chair
licking your face as he welcomes you home
These words they describe him right down to a tee
gentle - loves children - snores loudly like me
can be stubborn, aloof and suffers from flatulence
Some foods requiring total abstinence
My darling British Bulldog Bill
such happy times together
such funny little ways you had
remembering them forever
A ritual witnessed every morn
on waking at the crack of dawn
Rolling over on his back
his four legs held aloft
Bill gently rocked from side to side
as if to say, ‘I’m still alive’
Though sadly now he’s not...
Written 2018 in memory of our darling Bill Bulldog
Contest My companion and friend who never complains
Sponsor Eve Roper
1st Place
Contest Strand Select Q
Sponsor Brian Strand
3rd Place
These two old pups are near and dear;
I’ve kept them both throughout the years.
Lyra’s brindle, still cheetah-fast;
Lemony’s best years, in the past.
The thought of losing brings a tear.
When daughter schooled quite far from here
and had them crated, it was clear
they could not last, were much harassed,
these two old pups,
so I kept Lyra for a year.
Then, there’s the time Lem’ disappeared;
she got away from us quite fast,
a week in snow, did somehow last,
and then like magic, reappeared!
These two old pups…
—————
For Your Favorite Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
Written on 04/15/2022
oh gee he is a bundle
of dog as i have the same brindle coat
on a mantel they remind me what it took
of my life to make them gentle to the world
and futon come handy as we listen to operas
and with my I camera should I show the peace
or the war the cat hiding as I told her will be ok
just give a day or two or adjust and learn or teach
Tonight it starts again.
The longing for something I can’t have.
A life that is meaningful.
I claw and scrape the surface of humanity.
A bubble that wont’ be burst.
I am on the outside looking in.
Tilt-o-whirl dreams spin out of control until I am dizzy.
I need to get my bearings, put away my dreams of other summers
Filter the shadows of my life
Are their lives as messed up as mine?
Is there perfect harmony?
Can it be reached in a Buddhist Temple on a steppe in Tibet?
Would a mantra, robe, and sandals free me?
Or would I long for a cheeseburger, maybe a bag of fries…”could you super size that please?”
These are the burning questions that keep me awake at night.
There’s a brindle dog that sleeps under my house at night.
As long as I don’t let him in he doesn’t know what he is missing.
Toss him a bone and he’s ecstatic.
Me I am full of blue trombone solos that no one wants to hear.
Jeez you would think every now and then someone would want to know why the shadows on my face never change, but no one dares to ask.
They would get an answer they’re not prepared for,
An answer full of blue ruin and rag water.
I don't see how it matters
Should we be brindle, black, or white
After all our colour
Is governed by our sight
So in a world of darkness
We would be all the same
How can there be a difference
Our eyesight is to blame
So how about we take a look
See what goes on inside
So judge people by their character
And use no other guide
When I was young and friends of mine
Had different coloured skin
We never ever cared about
Which friend was out or in
Was just as we got older
We found this thing called race
We could not understand it
They said it was God's grace
Well I'm still of the old school
The colour of your skin
Does not colour our relationship
In mind you are my twin
burnt sienna buds
on limbs and brindle branches
emerging life
I wonder how beautiful a rainbow looks
Through the eyes of a color-blinded
As it shines and comes down from the heaven
Taming the raging cry of the storm, as to brindle…It down
For those who can see its wonder, believes the beauty-ness of it
But God said “Blessed are those who has not seen and yet believes”
Once I was blind and looked out unto the world with my eyes closed
I am not talking about the physical eyes but of the faith of the heart
The spirit of our very soul that binds the realm of Heaven and Earth
It’s the light that shines to embrace the true alliance of brotherhood
So that all men/ women, alike, be enlightened and be-reborn-divine
For as those who hunger and thirst, God gives His bread and wine
For that is what a rainbow looks like through the eyes of a believer
For whatever mystery life unfolds, faith provides a different mold
By birthright, through faith; we are the children of the son of God
Just imagine, you, seeing the image of the true purification of self
The spirit-life that lives in Jesus, is the same spirit that flows in you
The only thing that’s keeping you from being this to that is the Word
It’s time to eat and to open the bottle of His wine and to drink upon it
Let the Word of God be the quencher of your thirst, once and for all
God loves us so much; He sent His only son to save us from our sin
It’s because of our inequities and our transgressions; why He died
But God’s graceful nature raised Him up, so we can be born again
As to see the world as just the beginning of the beauty of a rainbow
By: Wilbert Dela Cruz 6-7-16
clear and peaceful
the air fell still
the clouds moving in
in the distance
over the hill
the birds stopped singing
the bees disappeared
the traffic slowed
as the storm brewed near
glistening rain
trickled from the clouds
heavier and heavier
the drops came down
the sky above us rumbled
like anger from up above
a roar of booming explosion
like a passionate kind of love
electric charged the atmosphere
the sky expanded tragically
an ever-growing endless dream
of raging power
and
magically..
The sky lit up
an intensive surge of power
contractions heightened
the storm
hour by the hour
the lightening molten silver
vivid in night
the megawatt anger of nature
striking in plain sight
slashing through the darkest clouds
blacker than the devils soul
the thunder duetted the lightening
nature is in control
subtly the diagnosed
began to loose its symptoms
the sun peaked through
the clouds fluffed up
natures unwilling victims
the bluey grey brindle
with the softest accent of white
the beauty of the sky
always outshines
the stormiest of nights .
My guru carries a set of brass knuckles
you'd think he'd be all yes sir and no sir
but instead I get ahah hoho and egad
I can't do anything right on my best day
and I have the branding iron scars to prove it
tattooed in diagonals like barricade tape
Hank's Motor Cottages Sleep With Hank
yes that's his name my guru Hank
he just told me to say menacing presence
instead of the more benign guru baba
a strange man a man of banal mystery
it is becoming evident that he knows nothing
simply landed a place to send his mail
I only let him shave in the kitchen
when he rides in on the Western Pacific
outdoor seating fresh air enjoyable panorama
he likes the outdoors and strangely enough
also likes acres of humming server farms
with a couple of slow pinwheel generators
on a naked hill of uranium tailings nearby
the readings aren't what they used to be
but the kangaroo rats are as big as kangaroos
so you have to drive real slow at night
and keep the fissured windows rolled up
if you have a car like Hank's Hudson Hornet
coffee can sized pistons twin carburetors
and a back seat big enough to live in
it was a big improvement over under a train trestle
Hank has seen a lot of the world and its trestles
been beat up and falling down drunk in a lot of cities
but learned to hit back and take names
his brindle Great Dane has a funny name for a dog
it is Arthur and he can bark it like a battle cry
AR-THURF he goes when Dandelion Hank's cat
taunts him from the back seat rear shelf
Hank dropped in to shave just last night
so we're lucky to have his wisdom right here
for example he has solved world insanity
set your head on fire is basically it
but it probably won't catch on
people believing their own lies
has a momentum to tilt all the ten pins
over at the Bowl and Boogie Lanes
when it's Cicada Night
and the ladies get in free
Dear Griffin,
I clearly remember the first time we met. Jim had brought you at all of
four months of age to my families summer reunion. You were shy with
those striking bi-eyes and those massive white paws accentuated by
your thick brindle coating. Jim had purchased you from a local pet store,
not long after you had been flown to Maryland from a midwestern Indian
reservation where you were born. Those white paws were wobbly still as
they touched the unfamiliar grass and were overwhelmed by all the people
attention while your senses soaked in the great outdoors.
I was still in mourning for Tobin, my Australian shepherd dog but as each
day passed I grew more and more amused by your puppy antics as you
warmed your way into my life.
I also remember the day when Jim and I went to Rockville in the snow with
you to find a dog companion and were fortunate enough to find Izzie, a
ridgeback and your soul mate. From that first day, the two of you rough housed tirelessly and were inseparable for many years to come.
Griffin, I must admit that you presented a bit of a challenge to train after
Tobin who would have died in the stay command. Jim and I went to numerous trainings before you were molded into the obedient dog you became.
I was always in awe of your gentle nature and innate connection to
other wildlife. I remember the time a cow licked you thru the fence at the
Department of Agriculture and also how a deer sat down near you once in your dog paddock.
It's really hard to say good bye after fourteen years to such an integral member of our family. You have carved a special place in our hearts forever.
Until we meet again dear friend at the Rainbow bridge.
Rest in peace, Nancy
Her tail tells tales as wags of whining pleasure
of frolicking service; treasures of licks and love
snips of lips, cheeks rubbing fur to skin akin
kinship-mans best friend finding flee-free paws
shots of super vaccinations to vacation to parks
averted eyes; chewed leather, spilled trash magically
delicious yet daunting; poo-pee fest of wines soaking
cream carpets loathing brindle fur raining lavishly.
Pitful pitbull lay, sit, come, play; mommy’s bay-bay
sweet forever homes to soothe the sad and alone.