Best Pooch Poems
I said, do you fancy a drink, Tom?
He said where the hell is that stink from?
My dog cocked his leg
We smelt rotten egg
Because he had eaten my stink bomb
*
My cat swallowed my whoopy cushion
He can’t get it out but keeps pushin’
But each time he squeezes
He makes noisy breezes
My mum holds her nose and keeps shushin’
*
They stroll the prom in their best finery
Some stop for alfresco China tea
Silly, not brave
With one big wave...
They look like they’ve come from a winery
*
She gracefully ambled the prom
I’m sure somewhere posh she was from
She patted my dog
Who ‘issued a log’
She left with a lot less aplomb
I am a pugnacious old pooch-
with prowess I guard my man's hooch,
when the master comes home
he throws me a bone-
but I'd prefer a poodle to smooch!
Life Of A Canine Named "Pooch”...
Equally Worthy As Mine
No explanation why,
the following unpleasant memory
shocked this systemofadown human vie
bur rent lee, suddenly, and oppressively
as if...a heavy object
fell from the sky
knocking render yours truly
into a crash test dummy
tail spinning vertigo,
where the soul of this guy
at this moment, when
the following misdeed
occurred well nigh
many werewolf full
moons ago, hence a sigh
leant echo with matthew scott
till he doth die!
Nonetheless, to my
dying day I cannot
forget, nor allow
un paw din nub bull sub woofing,
recollection, yet try as I might ow
(the psychological pain
still rubbed red
dully bone raw),
where ring around
the collar of
this paw - pow
whir fully, doggedly,
grudgingly, now
fines me to em bark
with a shrill bow wow
impossibly (even
incrementally) forgive
thy then girlfriend, now
spouse of approximately
deux dozen plus
years Oh my
DOG - "holy cow"
forsaking the beautiful
faithful, and loyal "purportedly
man's beast friend,"
and ideal chow
mate, upon venting still
smoldering grief
when said wife
egregiously, heartlessly, and
indiscriminately, (though not
deliberately) evoked strife
(cross) be still finds me gnashing,
where emotional grief rife
this closing November 19th, 2018
analogous to a serrated knife
tearing, stabbing, ripping,
and gnaw zee ate
ting lee wreck conning
this melon collie life
of mine, no more valuable,
than a unconditionally loving
creature "put down"
at the Chester County S.P.C.A.
leaving this aging puppy
with an indelible frown,
which sad recollection
unleashes sorrow every noun
and again, which
unrelenting hounding
agony, asper an non
healing wound tantamount
to unsolved killings
haunting ghost town.
Having expended our years of youthful zest
My pooch Nikki and I now read and rest
While scratching her belly
I’ll recite Keats and Shelly
But she confides in me that she loves Byron best
by Robert Gorelick
Perhaps pooch Nikki loves Byron the best
For words he wrote to his dog laid to rest
Yet scratching her belly
Hearing Keats and Shelly
Proves the two of them hold her interest
by Belle Bellevue
They'll be no hop scotch with a broken crotch.
No gyrating like Elvis with a fractured pelvis..
Don't plan on doing the hoot Chie cootch.
Better settle for a smooch.
No leisurely long car rides, not until the pain subsides..
If you are planning to stand, better keep pains meds. at hand.
Just want to sit a bit? It's painful until the bones knit..
Our pelvis supports our bodies weight, if fractured one
must rest and wait.
Two legs are less efficient then four, if there's life after life,
I will need two more..
Then a felony.
Yet a Felony.
A ten-year Felony.
Alas, The Pooch!
Primped, pampered pug Priscilla perused pate portion perfunctorily piqued
10/23/19
Reflecting On Thy Long Doggone Pooch -
"Georgie Harris"
At present moment thoughts adrift,
whereat figurative throne,
this chap doth
emotionally abdicate
no particular reason finds me
revisiting nostalgic
thoughts, our
(Harris – birth
family) first pet,
who didst accentuate
mine early boyhood
(far removed time wise
from the crowd did place
housing nostalgia), now over
laid with subsequently
decades worth of memories,
your bow wow wing did
sub woofer did accumulate,
I attempt to adumbrate,
while sitting facing,
the Lenovo external screen
(linkedin in my
macbook pro laptop),
commencement to nuh aerate
spontaneous thoughts ruff lee
outlining thine affectionate
"mans beast friend"
a dearly beloved,
(long since departed),
yet his "Georgie"
spirit lives within me,
and doth ameliorate
teary eyed intermittent outbursts,
sans remembrance
of things past,
particularly said
four footed best pal,
(a hybrid Boxer and Dalmatian -
with docked tail) asper,
when yours truly,
a lil whippersnapper,
he taught thyself
bone a fide life lessons,
and did animate
my preschool days of solitude,
and whose sixth
canine sense didst anticipate
increased amplitude
of nascent childhood anxiety,
yes unwittingly, "a therapy dog,"
whose company,
I did appreciate
oh, how his innocent naïveté
bared kid lee didst articulate,
thus whose demise
scored beloved value,
I belatedly authenticate.
Man’s best friend passes loyalty test
Also best friend of girl in tan dress
A warm wet nose black eyes confess
He follows where she goes nevertheless
When she cries he whimpers too
Her laughs and sighs inspire him to
Waiting by the door when she is in school
Puppy love amour is a girl and her pooch
I remember when you came to me,
a slinky sleek bundle of fur and muscle,
dashing, daring, purring, and pouncing,
testing the limits and the patience of all,
playing in the morning, playing at night,
sliding on the carpet,
never sleeping, never stopping,
energy incarnate.
You burned so brightly in my life,
lighting our world with toys and tests,
talking and jumping,
clawing and pouncing,
nurturing your elder, nurturing me,
comforting and consoling,
kissing away tears and trials,
loving always,
soothing and slinky.
You grew and grew,
first up, then out, so round,
so happy,
laser pointers -- who cares,
contentment in a jolly round ball,
with your big belly inviting the pet,
the rub, the snuggle, the cuddle,
my pillow, my gentle living big and warm,
pillow.
Toy mice as babies, carried through the house,
surprises in my shoe, was that a joke,
laughing at me or laughing with me,
slipping on your gifts,
midnight tripping on the dark floor lump,
not malicious, laughing with me I decide,
with delightful sparkle eyes,
surprising grace,
embracing life.
Years pass and you burn less brightly,
sixteen candles and nine lives gutter,
the weight falls away, the attention span,
bones and skin, but always love,
always pur, happy to be,
my friend, my buddy,
my cat named dog.
Your flame fades,
and I miss you already, Pooch.
Pooch - Fable
My tail still wags
though slow o'er time
both eyes sink low
equal ears that droop
A grunt is heard
a bowl-filled treats
later a door opens
a dying day's light
Slam sounds behind me
many souls in passing
tree shadows now grow
mumbling distorts the calm
My wags made brief
as faces turn away
harsh scolds at me
tail stills body shivers
Rebukes back to mumbles
home as door slams
treats gone lapping water
a corner waits for me
Servile since my birth
oldest puppy on earth
I've long shook Heaven's gate
now I dream and wait...
"When I die,
will he cry?"
2021 February 12
*3rd Place*
Fabled Musings
~~Joseph May
A soft white pooch with a red nose
A ribbon round his neck with a tiny rose
Is a bosom friend of Nolly
Loved more than any expensive dolly
He has a place on her potty chair
And sits like a king, fat and fair
The bathtub holds a special nook
For pooch to hang by his hook
Even in her dusty school bag
The pooch goes to school with his name tag
Happy he is when with her he sleeps
And consoles her whenever she weeps
Old with age and almost torn
But with a lot of kisses is daily adorn
She plans to take him to her hubby’s home
And in his name build a mausoleum with a dome
Nolly is my younger daughter, Naureen who has a fav toy dog.
Pooch, oh be aware.
This is called a day? Oh, dear,
I suspect not so.
When wind is blowing in my hair
with one paw placed outside,
where we are going, I couldn’t care.
I’m the pooch that loves to ride.
With one paw placed outside
I love to watch the scenery.
I’m the pooch that loves to ride
and smell the fresh cut greenery.
I love to watch the scenery.
Feeling the air ruff my mane,
and smell the fresh cut greenery
as we go rolling down the lane.
Feeling the air ruff my mane,
I love a country drive
as we go rolling down the lane.
I am the dog that comes alive.
I love a country drive.
Where we are going, I couldn’t care.
I am the dog that comes alive,
when wind is blowing in my hair.
6/8/20
MY POOCH CALLED NEVILLE
very often in me day;
as the resident scribe,
am asked to write
in my expressive way
on many subjects that vary,
which can be absurd,
or to me they’re ridiculous be,
or I don’t like!
so, in order for me to write,
about all things
the humble feline four-legged friend,
and make it sound fine
but what do I know?
‘bout and are
their redeeming features,
when all they do is piddle and poo
right behind the lounge room chair,
and never clean their muddle
of their puddle there,
and outside make a bloody mess
of poor old budgerigars;
in colorful hues of greens and blues,
and as for being an affectionate beast
don’t worry they full of it at least,
so, my friends,
the moral of this ditty be,
it’s such a pity you see,
the humble meow and me;
will never be considered
as the best of friends,
while my pooch is called “Neville”
and he is the resident friend.
Francis Cooper – Mac © January 2019