Best Put To Sleep Poems
IN MEMORY
twiggy
was just a cat
a dear friend
of sixteen years
for humans i’ve not shed so many tears
Child of God
she
has been put to sleep
the feline way
so they say
nor was any soul more loved
Dave Austin
My own piece of heaven, a quiet little nook,
With only the finest parchment in a leather book,
A feather quill pen and an ocean of ink,
My thoughts would never stop to think,
Every single line I write would rhyme,
My poetry would be beautiful and sublime,
I'd be entertained daily, by Dr. Seuss,
And, put to sleep nightly, by Mother Goose,
Lessons from Byron, Shelley, Coleridge and Poe,
Teaching me every single thing that they know.
My own piece of heaven, will have to wait,
Until one day, when I must meet my fate,
So, for now I will have to be content,
With my own words that may be heaven sent,
Inspiration from my idols is all I need,
Writing poetry in a notebook from Mead,
With this cheap, plastic Bic pen,
And a dream to be, just like them.
Your cold lips,
Your frozen Figure...a sad emotion you expelled.
I touch your shape, trembling at the source.
Modeling away to my cheeks.
At sunrise we slept,
At midnight we loved.
The stars and the clouds draw us layouts of dreams,
an enchantment,
our elixir of love.
Hands slept in our grave, a singing hymn.
We drank each other's memories.
We danced until the moon was put to sleep.
Covered ourselves with petals of Rose,
Bare to the despair, the sun presented.
Decaying, and never growing old.
We fulfill these lavender caresses everyday.
Immortals, will will always love.
We will always be together...
Lovers in time.
Vampires in a dream,
A reality to me coming true.
Quiet taps on my old oak door
with a scent of lavender and honey
blown right past where flowers grow
swirls back in to a place she knows
In my arms I can feel her rest
heavy head and a broken heart
tear filled mist brought with the sea
seeping so slowly inside of me
Come close where I can comfort you
put to sleep all your deepest fears
hold my hand and be one with me
and together we can both drift free
Hold forth you winds of yesterday
live peacefully in my dreams
emerge in grace and beauty
a soft breeze blown in off the sea
The surgeon generals
are scalpel meeting once again
Fear doktors of war
are planning to raise another mar
on Earth’s topographical skin
Pigmented epidermal cells
are being prosperity lullabied put to sleep
under the celestial lights
Souls with eyes and minds closed —
their ears tingle lustily,
hearing cash pillow talk on poverty sheets
But, the gorgeous planetary patient
has no operating room human rights
Oh, such an awful terrestrial plight!
Yet, the view from the firmament heights
show another picture
of love from above
No stitches are seen
on the sky blue-eye, brown skin beauty
Regal global queen,
daughter of the Lunar tides,
your disfigurement is a cosmic shame
Moon princess,
Snow White seasonal changeling,
the galloping Four Horsemen are coming
upon the dispossessing gale wind
to trample upon
your perfect facial contours again
Hazel spring eyes,
with a cerulean crown
over her cloud-colored wedding veil
She wears such a Polar aurora adorable,
pristine mountainous gown
But the Jekyll dogs of war
are viciously on the shadow Hyde, waiting
to gnash another canine needle
into your verdant cheek vale fertility
Upon an evergreen face
does not one strand of virgin
forest hair
stand out of winter place
Until the anaesthesia bombs needle drop
to pockmark your oasis skin ...
and the monstrous dissection begins
Bloody butchers bullet love
slaughterhouse flaying
Stitching border sutures ... raised-flag lines
that are ever changing
As the summer fruits of world peace
are no longer autumn falling
Cris-cross scissor map marks
have so money land-lust sullied your timeless beauty
A planetary Bride of Frankenstein
is now your geo-political, laboratory scarred destiny
And I’m afraid to experimentally speak:
more stitches are soon forthcoming
Yet, from high above,
tho’ I hear
the negotiating table scalpel scrapes ...
I see no ugly stitches
on your indigo beautiful oceanic face
My Calico was chocolate-caramel swirled,
The inside of our house was all her world!
Her whole concern was just in getting stroked or fed.
She'd summon me each morning, jumping on my bed;
then reaching out with one white paw, she'd tap my head!
An oldie!
(This is around the time several years ago that Callie had to be
put to sleep due to cancer. She lived 18 wonderful years with us!)
Evening softly pours down from the hills..
The birds quiet , I hear the old dog bark
Another day will soon be put to sleep
And again I will be alone in the dark
The scent of lilac now comes to me..
The breeze gentle as a baby's sigh
The old back porch a haven now
As I prepare myself to say goodbye
Never thinking it would be this way..
So many days without much meaning
Hearing the creak of the rocking chair
Now to the past my thoughts are leaning
One day as I was walking,
I spotted a house by the woods,
saw an old friend from
my childhood, sitting on the porch.
We talked about the old days,
when we were so young and free,
he showed me his garden, as
we stopped to sit on a park bench.
Such enchanting roses
all around, bringing me closer
to nature and my
past years.
He then showed me,
where his dear old
dog Murphy was buried by
the pond with roses all around.
Tears shed for this sweet dog
who loved to roam the woods,
searching for rabbits,
he never found.
Memories from the past
were remembered that day
as I said my farewell
and left the house by the woods.
wrote 3-3-10 Inspired by my dog Murphy wrote this at 10:52, just hours before I had
him put to sleep. also my last poem to write before he died.
All my life I’ve been searching
Yet never seeming to find
I’ve traveled, married, divorced
As I’ve searched and yet
You have avoided me
My life has been fairly happy
As most would say successful and full
But in the quiet hours of dawn
I know that is not quite true
There is a yearning in my soul
That I have yet to put to sleep
People ask what are you looking for?
I know what it is but,
Putting Into words is hard
It’s a soul that matches mine
In spirit and thoughts
It comforts without even trying
The sound of their voice will settle me
The touch of their hand
Will send shocks through me like lightning
Yet gentle like the breeze
Their love is like no other
Reassuring without control
And lingers through me
Letting me know they love me
Like they have never loved before
Their compassion has no end
And guides me without preaching
Their laughter will fill every fiber of my soul
It is a calmness that washes over me
Even when they’re not near
And a gentleness that no one can touch
In their eyes I am perfect
Even though I know I am not
With them I’ll feel like I’ve come home
Are you out there?
Original poem by
Linda Franklin 03/10/2026
Tread softly on my feelings
and I'll tread softly too.
For we only have those dreams
that we know will not come true.
The ones of love we can't resist,
that touch our heart and soul.
The ones that linger and persist
to tempt our self-control.
Yet we know our love will never be,
not in this lifetime dear.
We know as well that we're not free,
the path for us is clear.
We must go our separate ways,
and the memories we will keep
are the what if dreams and might-have-beens
that realities put to sleep.
And though our silent thoughts may fantasize
of romantic bliss and more.
As love may come to mesmerize
those dreams we must ignore.
So, tread softly on my feelings
for soon we must let go
and the only memories we will keep
are the dreams we'll never know.
Earth has grown old
Angels veiled the sky
And night has gotten cold
To put to sleep the stars on high
Wise men saw a star
And found a treasure of I Am
Shepherds heard a voice from a far
And found their lamb
Wise men came from the east
In search of a new born king
They came to worship a new born priest
With glad tidings they begin to sing
They bowed and worshiped Him
Offering treasures of gold, incense, and myrrh
And to the new born King they hymned
As they sang the sleeping child began to stir
Wise men came down to worship
They came to share love divine
It was an awesome and intense courtship
In Bethlehem “wise men at Christmas” making the headline
[Note: this poem was inspired by a strange and terrible experience I had at 17 when I first set foot on the battlefield in 1965 after an interview at the college there: physiologically, it was like being mortally wounded. I was an agnostic then and so shrugged it off, but after I had an NDE 7 years later, I started thinking it may have been something else.]
Now the happy soldiers
go to fight again the battle,
marching bravely forty abreast
with heavy muskets shouldered,
yelling their cries of pain and glory
as they face the cold cannon
barking like a pack of mad dogs.
Down they go in ones and twos,
and sometimes in little bunches,
collapsing together as though
put to sleep by the fairy dust
of long forgotten dreams.
Both sides feel the urge
to kill, to step the victor
o'er their bothers' bones.
Grown men playing-- yes,
even perhaps a bit silly--
but maybe, just maybe,
some of them are unaware
of their own anguished deaths
there on that sweating day
not really so very long ago.
At seventeen I went to that town
to talk of my education and
in the warm afternoon
I meandered mindlessly
amidst the boulders named
fearfully for Satan's lair.
There, suddenly, terribly,
while walking between two
of the giant stones, my body
shuddered in anguish and sweat,
my heart raced like it might burst,
as fearful dread seized my mind
and rattled me to the very core
of my soul; but back then, I did not
yet know I might have lived before.
['Satan's lair' refers to Devil's Den, near the base of the Little Round Top where some of the battle's fiercest fighting took place.]
Morning light bleeds color into the smoky night
The orb of dawn seeps out from behind the hills
Pieces at a time until made perfect
at the crest of a knoll.
Awakened in a mound of earth is a withered flower
Stroked back to life by golden fingers
Petals soft and unsure
Coaxed open by moist daylight’s song.
Endless is its name, endless is its beauty
A smile tender and fanned about a crimson heart.
Althea is a blossom that rises with the sun
Is put to sleep when the white moon appears
Because every day is a new life
it does not fear death.
___
FYI: The rose of Althea, or 'Hibiscus Syriacus', is called 'mugunghwa' in Korean. 'Mugung'
means 'endless', 'hwa' means 'flower'. It is the national flower of South Korea.
One day my daughter brought home a scraggly looking young cat who had always
lived outside. In her first year, we learned she had given birth to two litters of kittens, most of which died. She’d always had to scrounge for food and had even escaped from the pound, only to find her way back to that place where she’d not been well-treated! When my daughter saw her, it was her kittens that were being given away. But my daughter saw a gentle quality in this mother cat that surpassed the sweetness of the kittens and asked to take the mother, who became known to our family as Callie (for Calico).
Callie grew plump and flourished in our home. She was no nuisance to anybody or anything. She became so pampered that she hated the outdoors and if a door were opened, she would approach the “outside” cautiously, only to come racing back inside the minute we returned from our porch. Callie loved to sit on laps and be petted. The older she got, the louder she even purred. If a visitor came to the house, she would climb to their laps. She was small and so likable that nobody wanted to shoo her away.
When our children left home, she became my one and only baby, curled up by my pillow each night and awakening me with a little pat to my face every morning for her breakfast. Callie lived a long life, nearly 18 years, but has since passed on. Dying of cancer, she clung to life until we saw fit to have her put to sleep. I have since adopted other cats, and my current cat is indeed charming, but I still believe there is not another cat in the world that can compare to our one and only Callie Cat!
WINTER TALE
A true story
abandoned pit bull
his owners have moved away
just an empty house
he’s been left outside to freeze
sits and stares in disbelief
the dog doesn’t know
whether to whine or to bark
decided to bark
he would summon his master
and he loudly pleads for hours
some men come at last
they are from the pet control
neighbors have complained
oh pray he’ll be adopted
not unjustly put to sleep
Dave Austin