Best Hound Poems
As the
story
goes...
A
pesky
fly,
came buzzing by
to rest and munch
and eat his lunch
and have some fun
on the hound dog's
nose.
The old dog
snoozed
without a clue
in the noontime heat
of the August
sun.
He
napped
awhile
by piles of leaves
in dappled shade
of the apple tree,
where an apple fell
and the flies said "yum"
and the bees would hum
and the dog would yawn.
That lazy bone
won't fetch a stick,
or scratch his neck
or care a lick
about a neighbor's cat,...
That ornery
brat
will prance around,
will tease and taunt
the weary hound,
who naps so sound
on
this
dog- day
afternoon.
Hound has no pep
to take a step
to chase
or race
that snooty
cat,
who
smugly rubs
against his back,
and sticks her nose
up to his snout,
and
sticks up her tail
sashays about.
He hardly cares
that she is there.
She preens and cleans
her own black spots,
She stares at him
he stares right back,
with one eye open,
one eye shut
He'll stretch a bit
and scratch a lot
but it's too
hot
to
chase
that
cat...
Don't
bat
your
eyes..
it's
not a lie.
So
what
do
you
think
of
that?
_________________________________
Once upon a time when no one was around,
A lost puppy was born in a hole in the ground.
When he ate scraps, he made the strangest sound,
A high pitch whine that would always resound.
He found a blanky in the streets that was profound,
And used it to hide to avoid the pound.
It soon became warmth when he was cold bound,
And made him the happiest when he frowned.
One day a girl saw him, and love did surround,
Took him home with care; he was a happy hound!
In loneliness and sorrow, he no longer drowned,
No longer was he lost; he was finally found!
___________________________________________
4.15.2022
Nursery Rhyme 3 Poetry Contest
Eve Roper
Something's changed, I don't recall this door.
The mat that once read 'welcome'...now gone.
Am I lost in the night, or had I forgotten some slight..
had my address been quelled by another time?
The new curtains in the bay window seem nice,
though..not the deep blue highlighted sash you fell for.
And on that foreign floor, a sweet Labrador lies napping.
Not the lightning fast hound rescued from the shelter.
My key's jingle, so hollow in sound, questions me now..
whether I know left from right, right from wrong..
Two boots waited, under an unfamiliar porchlight,
neither I recollect as my own..
every sunset I knew seemed to've gone.
I stepped back from a stranger's stair, perhaps deceived by my own eyes..
retracing my tired steps from the long day, to the oak in the yard,
was it always that tall?
Surely the messages you left would offer a solution from this lunacy,
a chance at a door opening, inviting me, lovingly from this nightmarish scene.
But they had all disappeared.., save one.
Staring hollow eyed into the dimming display's abyss, I read the last will..
your last thought retraced..in taps' mournful horn.
The air in my lungs abandoned me, my shoulders suddenly
weighing so heavy, in a torn and bloodied uniform.
Somehow the night sky was no longer mine to share..
absent your side, shaking my head in my hands..
my God, how could it be?
The door and locks changed, the porchlight rearranged,
the blue curtains went too,
The scratch of toe nail's click clack.. nowhere to be found,
even the dog was removed.
Turning away from the lawn to the long sidewalk, oblivion my companion,
I laughed out loud at the fool and folly and future that lie in store.
There's a fine line between truly belonging.., and only being,
bitter lesson learned at a strange door..
Finally saddeningly, maddeningly.. it dawned,
why everything was tipped on its face.
Your last message, echo'd in my broken mind..,
'you've been replaced'.
Once Lived Life As Both Fox And Chasing Hound
Once lived life as both fox and chasing hound
each one thinking, they were true, honor bound.
As the fox, took great pride in being shrewd
failed often to see my actions were crude.
When fleeing forth in life at lightning pace
taking too much as I ran, a disgrace.
Never worried about deep and high costs
figured each cold Winter brought killing frosts.
When chasing old fox, my mind went astray
swearing to catch and eat him every day.
With each new dawn, my hunger more intense
I failed to see myself being so dense.
One sad dawn, I caught that shifty ole fox
his words showed me my big, dark prison box.
Blessed reprieve for him, I did not eat
His wisest move and both our greatest feat.
Once lived life as both fox and chasing hound
each one thinking, they were true, honor bound.
As the fox, took great pride in being shrewd
failed often to see my actions, were crude.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-25-2017
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 200
Total # Words: 164
Note- Inspired by Tim Smith's free verse poem--titled the
-- The Fox And The Hound.--
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_fox_and_the_hound_884102
As I do not do free verse very well, methinks, I went with personification in rhyme and ten syllable verses.
Thank you my friend Tim Smith, for the great inspiration.. your free verse poem and its creativity
and depth inspired this effort by me , written in a much different poetry form.
I hope this poem written this morn, may honor your poem well, as an inspired tribute to it.
Damn old worthless dog.
Lazily, he lies in the shade of my porch
by my rocking chair.
Useless but for tick food and flea fodder.
Too old to bark at a cat or wild rabbit.
Asleep he lies with one eye open
as if to protect me, if he still could
like when he was an overgrown pup
back then, so quick to pounce
on a troublesome snake or wild hog
gone them days -long gone.
We all should pay for our keep
I should put him down for his old age
A kindness.
He's just old.
He and I lost some weight since my wife passed on
we miss her biscuits but he still gets the house,
to sleep by the fire she started that bad habit.
Now when inside he goes, from room to room,
looking for her, always her
and the kids, he loved the kids.
Grown and gone a long time now they are
and he knows still he looks for them.
I am sure he misses them more than they miss him.
I will have to tell them. It has to be done!
This kindness
I don't think they will cry. I will not; no, not I
"Hear that old dog? Not one tear from me!"
The kids will have too understand.
Damn old worthless dog.
We all should pay for our keep.
I should put him down for his old age
a reward, I think, to keep him from pain,
Just a kindness,
a thank you for nothing,
same as a gentle pat on the head.
A sad job this kindness
but not today -no; not today!
I've too much rocking to do; today!
Maybe tomorrow!
Or the next; maybe soon-
Yes,
I see no rush to this kindness
no rush at all.
I was having one of “those” mornings
being all boo-hoo
and feeling sorry for myself
just counting the ways
that things were so uncool
when my ole hound-dog came up
and nuzzled my thigh
I reached down and rubbed his ears
and got to thinking
do hound-dogs ever get the boo-hoos
and I realized
yeah, they probably do
with that revealing flash of insight
I got down on my knees
and gave my ole hound-dog a hug so tight
that it hitched my breathing
he got to wagging and licking
tossing his head and smiling
and I got to making all that
talking-to-my-ole-hound-dog-baby-talk
while we were having ourselves
a good ole time together
I got to thinking again
when you get the boo-hoos
and start feeling sorry for yourself
what you must try and do
is give comfort to someone else
and if the closest someone else
is your very own wag-licking ole hound-dog
then you just get down on your knees
and let that comfort flow
while I was doing just that
and we were nose-to-nose
we looked into each other’s eyes
and I had another revealing flash of insight
I wasn’t giving comfort to my ole hound-dog
he was giving comfort to me.
The Wolf
The wolf guards her brood,
Bones of trespassers before,
Death to the unwarned!
My snarl says it all,
The wolf rules this land, no doubt,
Tread lightly, my friend.
The lone wolf unleashed,
Don’t trust the strange traveler,
Trust is never free.
The Fox
The fox senses spring,
The hound is too tired to fight,
Conflict delayed, friends.
The hound hides in wait,
"How smart are you, Miss Foxy?".
Nature in action.
The fox loves to play,
The hound takes his role to heart,
Frustration sets in.
The Coyote
The coyote sleeps,
Wild pheasants roam peacefully,
Hunger soon brings death.
Sunset brings brown death,
The rabbit tastes too gamey,
A nice change of pace.
A cry in the night,
The coyote is a force,
Mutual respect.
Original work written for
The Contest:
“PD’s INNER ANIMAL” ¤¤ 7th Place ¤¤
By: Samual Ronthorpe
If you enjoyed this, I have an expansion to the "Fox" section of this poem, it is titled, "Miss Foxy and Hound".
“Who’s the boss ?” I heard her say.
ME, I tell her every day!
I let you know by my stare
when you force me off the chair.
You leave the room to get a drink,
I’ll have that chair again - I think.
You come back in and spoil my fun.
I have to sit on the other one.
“Get off!” You’re on my case again.
Oh well that’s me - no pain - all gain.
I mutter as I leave the couch.
“ I heard that then - you’re such a grouch!”
Well that takes the biscuit if you please,
She’s the one who spoilt my ease.
Talking of which, where’s the tin?
She’ll use it soon to bribe me in
the kitchen then she’ll close the door.
She’s won that battle but not the war.
Cos I’ll now pee upon the floor --Tsk Tsk
Miss Foxy and Hound
The fox senses spring,
The hound is too tired to fight,
Conflict delayed, friends.
The hound hides in wait,
How smart are you, Miss Foxy?
Nature in action.
The fox loves to play,
The hound takes his role to heart,
Frustration sets in.
Lone opossum roams in.
The Hound comes to Foxy’s aid,
It’s complicated.
Cherry Blossoms bloom,
Foxy outsmarts Hound again,
The Hound likes his friend.
Autumn winds blowing.
They both know their time grows short,
Hound will miss Foxy.
Winter winds bite deep.
Foxy thinks of Hound, fondly.
It’s a lonely time.
The circle of life,
‘Twas just a matter of time,
The reaper commeth.
Spring winds blow, sadly,
Foxy searches for her friend,
Silence all around.
Miss Foxy now knows,
“My foe is gone!”, with a tear,
I will miss you, Hound.
my dog used to listen to bach
while running around on the dock
till a gal pug he spied
with a collar tie dyed
so now he just listens to rock.
My dog likes the decorations from the Christmas tree,
He can eat them without any guilt because they are fat free.
He knows which stocking belongs to him and he checks it every day,
He checks it by chewing it up, it’s a game he likes to play.
Sometimes in the candy dish I will find a suspect slobber mark,
I know that he’s been sampling both the milk chocolates and the dark.
He ate a whole roll of wrapping paper the kind with shinny foil,
Then for dessert he had a bow and some curly ribbon from the coil.
He helps us to remember the good times when Christmas time has gone,
When the snow melts in the spring and we find spangles on the lawn.
Hell-Hound Allows No Souls Out
Deep in the darkest pit,
where anguished screams resound
Evil thoughts feed the it,
fanged , demonlike hell-hound
No mercy for those so lost,
only torture to pay the cost
Gnawing on its victims with relish,
the monster growls so hellish
Desperate pleas never heard,
too late for any praying word
Looking in deeply is insane,
here, mercy calls always in vain
Dark shadows skirt about,
hellhound allows no souls out
Fear forces me to not see,
that fate once was awaiting me
Distant pits rumble much the same
Death final victor in this hellish game
Robert J. Lindley, 2-14-2015
note -- Edited and shortened poem from a very much longer
write many decades ago.
>As an ex- B 2 dog trainer, from the Royal Army Veterinary Corps of too many years ago. I cringe when I see dogs dressed up like fashion models. But knowing me, as you do, it did inspire a poem. Have a nice dress free day today, all my canine friends. However as it is the Cruft’s Dog Show this week and they are after internet canine stars, beware. You know I will not be watching, so your street credibility will still be intact. Smarty knows what must be going through your minds. And he will not bol (bol is a doggy expression which means bark out loud. This being the dog equivalent, of lol, which we humans use as the written communication of laugh out loud, on that infernal internet, we all seem to be hooked on.)
Please do not hound me.
By Stanley Russell Harris (TMA)
I'm not a fashion model.
Not a woman or a man.
I feel the best in my own coat.
That's how I feel best, man.
And if you are a woman.
I'll lick you if I can.
You see, they say, ' I'm man's best friend,'
although, they might be wrong.
But dressed up like a fashion model!
I think that's, oh so wrong.
I hope my canine friends don't see me.
Or my street credibility will all be gone.
With that thought inside my head.
I'm off now, back to bed.
So long, 'Woof.'
The above tail, sorry tale, I mean poem, (Dragon pay attention,) was inspired by the Author of Smarty Search and Rescue Dog Books. Available on www.feedaread.com?>aff=6463. Have a nice day everyone. I am still on cloud nine having been declared cancer free, yesterday, yahoo. <
I know that if I ever do lose it,
It will be your fault.
I have acid stirring in my belly.
I'm a blind hound,
Running from the hitting stick.
Then there's you, the prosaic flower.
Your unimaginable summits.
Award winning expectations.
Higher than clouds.
I aspire to win your admiration,
Greedy for your grace.
I'm talking about popcorn, of course.
A dog named Bailey
Is a basset hound
She would eat all day
If it could be done
She always wants food
Her stomach is never full
At night when tired
Her bed is made up
In the laundry room
a gate to block the door
the whines to what seems
Like hours on end
Whines so loudly
That seems like hours
Only ten minutes
Until it all ends