Best Cocker Poems
The music fades
but I hear his voice
out the bathroom window.
Curly black hair lying in my lap
Snoring peacefully, contented
Sweet adoring puppy eyes
Loud ham lid popping sound
Black nose up in air
Cocker spaniel
Leaps from chair
Searching
Snack
Today I pass the time reading
a favorite note from you, and
saying our acronym over and over.
It feels like hearing you
call my name, from a dream,
again and again. Yasbtm. Yasbtm.
I lie on my back on the bed and say it.
I drum the syllables on the pillow.
I see your secret code of affection
in the pattern on the ceiling tiles.
Yasbtm.
I stand at the sink,
toothbrush in hand,
and say it, my mouth full--
I dare not spit.
l smile our secret and swallow.
And when outside I stoop to
write the letters in the snow:
Yasbtm
I say it, trying to remain as beautiful
as I was when you sent Joe
as a messenger the first time--
trying to be the same as when you left.
And everytime I say it, I feel the
excruciating pressure of knowing
that I'm not the same: I'm no longer
so beautiful. You left and took
that part of me with you.
By: Evelyn Augusto
#poetsout @evelynaugusto2012
Watson
“This is a definite, future champion,”
The breeder stated knowingly, as
He’d raised a few. So, we debated calling him
Sherlock, the royally-held-high detective of all
British literature. “See,” the breeder had added,
“His long ears, nearly touching down
To the ground! A standard for winning!”
But, what we saw in the small, perfectly shiny,
Entirely all-black ball, who lay in Jim’s cupped hands,
Was a character to join our lives, not for showing,
But for loving. So, we chose to call him
Watson, an endearing side-kick as he joined our home, barely
Even regarding the curiosity of our cats.
We lived on an off-street that led to a large park.
We’d sit on our front stoop while Watson enjoyed
Roaming the front yard on a long rope, then
Come back over to sit beside us, while so many of
The passing cars would pull over to a stop
To call out a statement about the stunning
Beauty of Watson, which we knew and agreed
And cherished as we stayed in dear witness to his every
Move, as he grew to celebrate his first year. Then,
As his cocker’ hair grew and fleas came, too, with
The coming of summer, he needed grooming.
So, we took him to the vet where they also did that.
But in that safe choice, destiny turned:
Watson took a hard bite of the groomer’s finger
At the start of a consuming seizure. At 14-month’s old,
Our sweet gift of living, flowing beauty passed.
The exquisite grace to see a masterwork alive
Still stays before our memories’ eyes
And endures in our hearts. Beauty,
Yet the dear beauty lives...
On with us.
**********. **********. **********
(C) sally Young eslinger 11/2020
Sophie Helen, my snuggle bunny,
Knows my whereabouts day and night.
She launches herself next to the small of my back
And we snore and dream together.
I dream I am flying
She dreams she is flying with me
Sophie Helen adores me. She is territorial.
I am her property, and she warns me about others.
Birds, cats, trucks on the road, all make her mad.
She gets furious if anyone else tries to touch me.
If my husband kisses the top of my head
She goes ballistic.
She is my savior.
Sophie Helen is my husband’s girl when I am not here.
He tells me stories about her snuggling up
to the small of his back.
He gets braggy about it
Not realizing she does this for me every night.
She is our baby, our girl, the one who stayed with us
After all our children grew up and left.
Sophie Helen is our light to the other world.
The one who assures us that we will make it there.
She comforts us like no other.
There is no mistake that God and Dog have the same three letters.
Unconditional love is what they are both about.
Giving us an assurance that all is well.
It’s the Cocker Spaniels this time the media screams
I roll my eyes, wondering when the cats will get some blame
Or the monkeys, cheetahs, sharks or giraffes
They are diabolical, plotting your death, the announcer says
I do not plot her death, but I plot taping her mouth up.
The pit bulls were the last group to blame.
What about the housewives? Do they use environmentally friendly detergent?
or the house husbands….do they recycle their lard like grandma did?
How about the grandmas who feed their pets with Styrofoam?
We are the polluters.
We are the litterers.
We are the ones driving cars one person at a time.
But let’s blame the Cocker Spaniels.
I shut off the T.V.