Best Kennel Poems
The Little Dog ( Scotty )
I’m only a small female
Little legs you see
The other two are huge
Males big pawed and hairy
Great tongues lolling
But they protect me
They are nice to me
I’m only small
The human is a giant !
If I look straight ahead
I can only see the shins
And while the other two are off
Galloping and romping
I am trotting behind
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
I think the human is male
He must be
As I feel so drawn to it
And its kind hands
And kind eyes
He must be male
I am female
I know these things
I love to go out walking
The human he takes us all
All three !
I have to skip over boulders
Which to them are just pebbles
And sometimes all of them
Have to wait for me patiently
Little legs with little paws you see
I love them all
Especially the human
And especially when he feeds me
Even more when he tickles my tummy
Do you know he built a little house for me
Just for me
I curl up on pillows at night
Nice warm and cozy
So because I love him
And even though I am rather small
I growl and bark
When he needs protecting
And I can see him smiling
So I know I am being a good girl
The human has a “ H U G E ” kennel
So big a dog could get lost in
And when he returns from being gone
He always lets us in
But never up those little floors
Which go to the place he uses for sleeping
Never mind
I am content
Like the other two
To curl on the soft fluffy bit of the floor
And wait dozing
Occasionally sniffing about
The place food is kept in
Till the time comes
For us all to go out walking
And then I can barely contain myself
In jumps and circles
While the other two are whimpering and whining
Time for them to go off running, snuffling and playing
While behind I follow
Steadily trotting
Little legs you see
But the human
He waits for me
My dad always takes care of me
He just loves me all the time,
Even when i disturb him
When his words he tries to rhyme,
He quickly picks me up
And gives me a loving pat,
He'll make sure i'm quite content
Before he puts me on my doggy mat.
When i was young i used to
Put my front paws on the window-sill,
It was to welcome home my daddy,
It gave him such a thrill.
I used to chase my sister
Around our large front lawn,
It became our favourite game
Ten weeks after we were born.
My daddy takes me in the car
Down to the local shop,
Then we go walking in the park,
Afterwards, i tend to want to flop.
Three years ago i went blind,
So my dad became my sight,
Sometimes he has to carry me,
My daddy is my shining light.
We live in a gigantic kennel,
Although my dad calls it our home,
"Hey dad i'm feeling peckish,
Can you fetch another bone."
Author Notes: I have two litter sisters, both 13 years of age. They are the best friends i've ever had. Bindi went blind 3 years ago and although we sometimes find it a little hard she still enjoys life immensley. When she's in our local park, she remembers the wide open spaces and feels safe to run. She quite often breaks into a loping run alongside me.
I wish to thank Bindi for her lovely poem-----dad
kidscomedypoetry.com.au
Parental desperation
is the dreadful flee bidden cause
Children separation
is the inhumane quarantine effect
Trying to cross the sovereign divide
is narrow mindedly viewed, by more than a few,
as a pestilent travel venture
Ill will is the chilling, unhealthy reception
The uncivil solution: Create an insane policy
for poor souls seeking asylum
Man-made designation is an animal control way station,
(also known as) Borderline K-9 Cages
See the perennially sad puppy eyes
laying fetal prone on the morgue cold, concrete floors
Watch the waning wag of the tongues,
their thirst for freedom dying behind iron bar doors
National psychotic behavior is borderline criminal,
keeping children in cages is morally indefensible
Diamondback mutes devolving into what?
Mental worms turning into heartless slugs!
Children developing separation psychosis
is a lonesome doggone shame
K-9 kids were never meant to be raised in cages,
yet no one wants to bear the blame
But many of the kennel keepers
have gotten so inured to the ear-piercing, borderline pain
And the womb-ripped parents
are never told where the aborted-trip children were taken
He seemed very much like those white dogs before,
With a raggedy coat, pointed ears and much more.
But the likeness soon ended to those dogs gone away.
For he'd never known kindness or love in his day.
He didn't know words, didn't even know stairs.
His nose, from the kennel, was chaffed of its hair.
Boredom was passed licking fur from his paws.
The pads on his feet bordered long, ragged claws.
He paced back and forth mostly all of each day:
Slept in a tight ball to keep cold nights away.
Wary of children and grown men alike:
Startling sounds made him cringe out of sight.
He was hungry and thin: I could feel every bone.
He stayed by me like glue and was scared left alone.
He wolfed down his food in an uneasy rush.
He didn't know combs and felt fear of the brush.
But time has now passed since the dog came to stay
From that harsh, lonely kennel on a hill far away.
This little white dog now seems mostly like them:
Those former white terriers, my sweet, loyal friends.
He now spends his time . . like before . . by my side.
But something has changed, for he's not there to hide.
With all of this good there is even much more.
He now plays with his toys and will ask for the door.
He eats with good manners, sleeps sound in his bed:
Stretched out in contentment, fun dreams in his head.
He loves his car outings and with each early spring,
Explores the old pathways our daily walk brings.
I'm so happy to have him, as he sits on my lap,
Or sleeps by my chair for his afternoon nap.
He never will know all of the bad things again.
His life will be happy with me as his friend.
Yet as good as it's been for this dog to find me.
To learn love and to trust and from anguish be free.
I too have been blessed one more time from above,
By Him sending another white dog here to love.
Phoenix the dawg
There in my yard is a dawg name
phoenix
One stubborn black *****
Easily identified by her signature hind
limp
Now, is not that she's without redeeming qualities
But that dawg no matter how you call har
she seems hard of hearing
While it well known that's a choice she is making
Cause the merest sound har ear perk,
she jump up and start barking
Phoenix the real mix I love to say
But jah know, dis dawg personify
the adjective play
I leave her sometimes under a mango
tree loosely chain
Where her kennel is to cover her when
it rain
A piece of work she is even when she is
on rein
Cause har mouth nuh cry quit, she get wey under mi van already and bite the wiring to
total disarray
Yet, phoenix is a unique dawg,
black as midnight with a face like a
happy smile....wg
The true story of the American west
Is one of killing field slaughters and
waste
The bison killers worked day and night
They were all busier than a kennel full
of dogs in heat
The bison had never seen anything
equaling this
And therefore knew nothing of how to
resist
Their bodies piled up on prairies by the
millions
While human beings continued their
killings
Humans had no thought about an animal's
soul
Mention of such would have laughed them
into a slop bowl
This all points out a basic flaw in the nature
of man
The evidence was there since man's time on
earth began
Animals to Man are just mechanized bodies
of meat and fur
Causing no lapse of conscience for killings
humans incur
But human beings think to improve Mother
Nature's rules
What they forget is this mother suffers no fools
When Man becomes comfortable in his unnatural
habitat
Then mother will send earthquakes and floods to
level Man flat
We are victims
Tied with common fetters
Loosed in thoughts of varied choices and desires
Loosely searching to make ends meet:
The meeting at this spot,
Either to go or stay, is a choice.
We are victims
Of the policies of pain
Emitted to drive us crazy,
We are on the street , though not crazy.
Destroying our common patrimony.
In futility, our sweat squeezed and
Mixed with our hot blood,
Spilled on the street’
The rampage against the policies that police our lives.
We are victims
Caught in the web
Of a cruel nation
Piloted by scoundrels
The apostles of destruction
Who roused our emotions,
Taking the only broken cup
Left for us to scoop
The dirty water in the pond:
The beggar’s choice!
Out of pain, we have heaped mud
To cover the pond.
Yes, we are victims.
Our pain boldly inscribed on our skin
Our thick skin, the archive of servitude .
And every effort to initiate freedom,
The beginning of futility.
We are pushed to the wall,
The dog must bark.
While it barks,
Its kennel is sacred.
Let us not destroy each other, our lots and more.
Let us not engage the street to loot,
Though we remonstrate ,
Let’s not pull down our commonwealth,
The acreages of government,
They belong to us.
We are victims of a beautiful nation stressed with stench politicking.
A miniature Australian Shepherd
Is the best companion for me
As we sit together on the couch
Watching afternoon TV
She does not sit for long
This hyper ball of fur
When Mom walks in the door
She jumps all over her
The attack of the Aussie Shepherd
Is a daily event around here
Yapping, jumping and bouncing
She moves like a white tail deer
Her big brown eyes
And fluffy chocolate fur
Make me want to hug and kiss her
That is for sure!
Chewing on my textbooks
Chasing the family cat
What do you do
With a dog like that?
A drink and a treat
Will calm her down soon
We throw a biscuit in the kennel
Watching her star in her own cartoon
A blanket placed over the top
Will find its way in by morning
But we will have peace for now
As soon as she starts snoring
Good night my little friend
Sleep well and pleasant dreams
Tomorrow we will play again
When the sun through the window gleams
Camelia Rose blew her nose,
The noise was quite gigantic,
Elouise goose flapped her wings,
Other animals were acting frantic.
Betsy dog ducked in her kennel
As the din echoed round the farm,
It sounded like a foghorn
And was causing such alarm.
Neddy horse hid in his stall,
Clara cow inside the milking shed,
The pigs no longer at their trough
Waiting to be fed.
When the sound finally disappeared
Camelia Rose spoke in a voice so calm,
"I'm just a llama with a cold,
No one will come to harm."
Rain seeps into every crack and crevice
chilling to the bone
Winter has arrived with a vengeance
and summer is forever gone.
Ice slicks the asphalt, into a
glittering glistening death trap.
Here begins the slow invasion
of the unrelenting cold.
This grubby little mutt follows one day,
His hair matted, claws overgrown.
You take pity on the poor thing;
Starving and probably ill.
(A miserable pup with big sad eyes)
And leave blankets and scraps out the door
You wonder of his owners forgotten
He’s no street dog- well behaved and gentle
Perhaps abandoned, lost.
But maybe not. He’s ugly, scarred
Hairless in patches- He belongs in a kennel.
You don’t want him- and feel an inexplicable deep hatred
The wag of his tail infuriates and the curve of his snout enrages.
You slam the door.
A glass spills and everything is red.
Merlot on the carpet, scarlet on the bed.
You knock over the roses
Deep crimson of condolence
You want to draw blood, you want to destroy
You crave another’s red bloody torment
Schadenfreude, be damned
His whines pierce-
through the cold air of the night,
and the solid wooden door.
The royal blue E minor: the laments of the abandoned
You can’t help but join in song
As the wretched creature
howls expressivo at the starless sky
a symphony of loss.
Violins screech to his scratching
with trills, mordents and turns.
The descending melodic line fades and echos;
As the merciless tonic pedal of time ticking
crescendos.
The clarinets wails accompaniment;
subdominant, tonic, leading.
And with a plagal cadence, the mutt droops his tail
Morning arrives- painfully slow
The rising sun thaws anguished aubergine
And leave only tender lapis of fingers frostbitten.
They struggle; falls a familiar key
As you reach and bend
Moist; a warmth unexpected and wet
As the mutt licks your hand
tongue curling around a corpse’s digits
nuzzling his cold snout into the back of your knee.
Tongue lolling, tail wagging
The mutt never leaves.
The frost on the tree branches promise
Of how you’ve lived and grown
They shimmer like precious silver
and accent the beauty of home.
The fresh biting air,
with great gasping breaths you shiver.
Here begins a new journey
With your most loyal friend.
The Dogs we called Family
Tara came first and then there was Ben,
When both of them died we said never again.
Then Sam the runner, got killed in the street,
Prince came and went quick, we didn't know he was sick.
He came from a farm where distemper was rife,
Took him to the vet where he ended his life.
One year had to pass to get our house clear,
Without a mutt there, it seemed without cheer.
One day I was out and the Pound I happened to pass,
I doubled back and I looked through the glass.
Inside I walked, many dogs ignoring my stare,
Until one at the end looked up at me square,
Sat on her haunches both paws outstretched.
She's the one, I knew, so my family I fetched.
I said nothing to them of the dog I had seen,
When they saw the same one I knew they were keen.
The dog was due for the jab that very hour,
To save her life now was in our power, you see.
We paid the fee for her life, Our Lucy was free.
She was the new member added to our family of four,
She lived with us and loved us for 19 years more.
While she was with us we had another to add,
Along came Jamie the Yorkie,he was a bit of a lad.
Like Ben he stayed near ten years and sadly passed.
Lucy died of old age, we said it's time to give in.
Our Garden Cemetery of loved ones was full to the brim.
To Cyprus we came to retire and live in the sun,
Of a dog in the family we didn't want one.
Then a visit to Larnaca was to change our life again,
Because along came Lexi to start it all over again.
She was soon followed by Levi, he was a lively one,
Then came Eli, the whirlwind and pain in the bum.
So from just us two forever as we'd planned,
Now we were five and life was once again grand.
A sad day loomed we had no idea of what was to come,
Levi was walking wrong so we took him to the vet
He had hurt his spine, as bad as it could get.
His rear end gave out and could not be reversed.
He was paralyzed, and getting steadily worse.
The love he gave us in his life reduced us to tears.
The vet said it's time he confirmed our worst fears.
We let him go to where he could romp with all the rest,
All the dogs in our family, they were the best.
With Tara and Ben, Jamie,Charlie the Pinscher and Lucy too
Neo the Collie and Big Ben & Storm the Rottweilers two,
Newfoundland Curtis and Demon the Chow,
All Pals together, in the Big Kennel now.
© Dave Timperley May 5th 2016
A CHILD’S EASEL
We bought it used at an art store
And cleaned it with soap and water.
Then stood it on the living room floor:
A child’s easel for our daughter.
You would draw on it with a marker,
Or write messages we could read;
The letters were always starker
If there was an important need.
It straddled the dog’s kennel cage
Throughout seven years of growing,
Your knowledge we could always gauge
By the drawings you were showing.
We never wiped it’s white board clean
Of the creative things you drew,
All those years till you were thirteen;
That’s what a parent’s pride will do.
But now that you’re growing older
The easel stands alone and bare.
You’ve given it the cold shoulder
And quit drawing things to share.
Soon we’ll give it to someone new
Because now it’s mainly ignored,
So someone can write notes just like you,
And draw pictures on its board.
Last night
I heard hoofbeats
wild dreams
today next door
a wooden kennel
What is this thing they've put me in
It's like a kennel made of tin
Why do they lift me in the air
This treatment really isn't fair
I'm tied down with canvas straps
Is this a trip for me, perhaps
I think I'm high up off the ground
And now what is this roaring sound
My vision's blurred I cannot see
What is happening to me
I'm getting heavier I think
This dry air makes me want a drink
And now the roaring stops at last
I'm so glad that noise has past
What's this, it seems I have no weight
This is a sensation that I hate
I hope they stop this feeling quick
I'm starting to feel really sick
And now I hear another roar
but much less noisy than before
My weight increases once again
and in my chest I feel great pain
And now that awful roaring stops
and the pressure finally drops
Now that those feelings have abated
I'm feeling really quite elated
Will this be my final fate
To live my life with no weight
Why I'm here I just don't know
Why do these anxious feelings grow
Why are these wires stuck in me
Why caged up, no longer free
Had it been explained to me
what my mission was to be
And if I'd known what was planned
then perhaps I'd understand
But I was given little choice
No protestations could I voice
My life means nort, I'm not a man
I'm just a cog in your great plan
Now I'm getting really hot
A dreadful feeling I have got
And then I realise with a sigh
that this will be my time to die
You've sent me here to die for you
and there's nothing I can do
except to think that others may
not suffer as I do this day
I'm burning up and feel such pain
as darkness falls upon my brain
To be the first, that is my fame
Remember ... Laika is my name
(Oleg Gazenko, "We shouldn't have done it. We did not learn enough from the mission to justify the death of the dog.")
> have just been sorting out some old papers and guess what I found some old poems.
There talking on the radio
There talking on the radio today.
BBC radio Suffolk, I must say.
About wearing pyjamas when outside.
Not in bed, where you can hide.
I’ll tell you now one week I did.
Wear my pyjamas all day, I do not kid.
Had pants on longjohns too.
On top I wore my trousers true,
Covered all in a white snow suit.
Got the picture? Was not swell.
I was in Germany now I’ll tell.
Exercising my war dogs you know.
In the cold and freezing snow.
All the dogs, I took out that week.
Had their thick coats, so were not bleak.
But they could not my pyjamas see.
But I was still freezing cold you see.
I know using see twice, is not nice.
Nor was the weather, I felt like frozen ice.
But I soon warmed once dogs were fed
Went back to barracks and me bed.
Don’t worry dogs were all okay.
On their bed board’s in deep straw did lay.
When on duty and I checked on them.
I could not see any of them.
All of them, were tucked up warm.
Not like me and my friends with pyjamas worn.
We were cold , you could tell.
As our teeth chattered, wordless as well.
But them dogs, all were fine.
Warm as toast were all of mine.
How could I tell, listen its true.
In the morning what I did do.
I entered each kennel very slow.
To take each dog for walkies you know.
Hidden in their bed of straw.
My hand wandered in for lead to secure .
When I touched my dog, I jest you not.
Was curled up in a ball and blinking hot.
And that was something I was not.
But did I take my pyjamas off, no I blinking well did not.
I don’t care if using not twice, ain’t nice.
As without those pyjamas on, I’d be like ice.
I would be freezing cold and that’s not right.
And on that chill note, I’ll say good night.<