Best St Bernard Poems
If you have not read my earlier ones, please check out the first in the series and see if you like the story. It will help this make more sense.
Ricky slowly sauntered up the stairs, as you know most little boys don't like going to bed. When Ricky got to his room I noticed the Bunk Bed against the wall and a dresser on an adjacent wall. Why I knew what these things were is beyond me, perhaps it is a part of hearing Ricky's mind. Ricky walked over to the window and placed me on the sill. This was great because it was a clear night and I could see the twinkling stars in the black velvet sky. The street itself was dark except for a few lights in other windows and an occasional car driving by.
I turned my attention to the room, Ricky's brother Roy climbed a ladder to the top bunk and Ricky got into the lower bunk. I could tell Ricky was scared about what was under the bed. I have to admit I felt much safer being over here on the window sill. If it had not been for the giant stuffed St. Bernard that he took to bed with him, who knows what those monsters might have done to him. His companion's name was Bully and I could tell they had been friends a long time. As Ricky was begining to sleep I felt this falling sensation and he jerked awake. I can't express how that scared me, I thought I was falling and that would not be good, after all I am made of glass. Thankfully a few minutes later Ricky was fast asleep and I drifted along with him. It had been a very good day. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....
If you are enjoying this tale let me know and I will continue on with it. Thanks for reading it.
No one knows
what to do
If I breathe in
my poodle's poo
Can I shake paws
with my cat
If I rub her tummy
Is there a caveat
And God protect me
from the friendly St. Bernard
Who slobbers all over me
I need a bodyguard
In fraught times like this
Where to turn for advice
Seems the truth really is
We're just rolling the dice
Kitty Katy, bigger than holsteins
Killed a St. Bernard
Pretty Kitty scratched up my blue jeans
Left my legs all scarred.
My big kitty scares the bejabbers
Out of my sorry hide
Such loud thuds of her pitter-patters
The blood-prints of her stride.
What did she kill tonight?
Who did she rend and bite?
What did she eat?
What kind of meat?
When must I stand and fight?
Kitty wrestled an anaconda
Then ate just the head
I took off on my cherry Honda
Scared I'd next be dead.
When all around was cold and white,
The kindly monk set out that night;
His dogs were trusty, he was strong,
Prepared to search the whole night long.
He covered miles of icy ground
And wouldn’t stop until he found
The orphans stranded in the snow -
His dogs would know which way to go.
The blizzard blinding, muffling noise,
The friar prayed he’d find the boys.
His dogs discovered huddled forms:
The brothers frozen in the storms.
Alas, the monk arrived too late,
And wept about the children’s fate.
For Isaiah’s Let It Snow contest, inspired by the picture of a monk and his St Bernard dogs
I Am A Rose
Planted in the early spring placed gently in the earth.
At one time just a single seed until I'm given birth.
Peering out a tiny crack I think I see the sun.
Glancing quickly all around I am the only one.
Getting bigger day by day once pounded by the rain.
I feel I have grown stronger from my temporary pain.
Dancing softly in the wind looking through my Roses eyes.
Bumble bees come visit me along with butterflies.
I know sometimes a flowers life can seem to be so hard.
When somewhere living close to me there lives a St Bernard.
I asked my friend the butterfly to bring the dog to me.
Then I plotted and I planned with my friend the bumble bee.
Jumping playfully in the air he chased the butterfly.
Never ever on this earth has there been a Rose so sly.
As soon as he was close enough he felt the sting of bees.
Me? I had my part to do so I pricked him where he pees.
Rose means love and friendship.
I got a neighbor
who has a dog named Spike
And there are two things
that mean ole dog don’t like
Spike don’t like cats,
and he don’t like clowns
Especially the cat burglar ones
The sneaky ones who try to come around
and steal his beloved master’s possessions
They try to get in the house
through the window or back door at night
You best believe that Spike
is gonna greet them St. Bernard right
Round about the late, late show hour
is human drumstick snack time
Spike is salivating ...
waiting
to take a bite out of crime
You best believe that
news has spread underground
Cat burglars beware:
200-pound fury is policing around
Spike is gonna dog collar
any perp
who try to enter
his territory unannounced
My uncle's farm lay nestled in the central Wisconsin hills
A beautiful location sure to cure this city boy's ills
So imagine my delight when invited to stay a week
During summer vacation, this was certain to be unique!
As we approached the house appeared a lumbering St Bernard
Whose regal name was "Caesar" skilled in protecting the front yard
If Caesar didn't know you he'd send you running for your life
His master's safe word left me slathered in drool, sticky and white.
Near the back door the gray feral cat "Bluebell" kept me in awe
As I reached out to pet her she became a Langolier buzzsaw!
Shaken but not stirred, I entered the house without further fuss
In the kitchen barking like a dog was their pet pig named "Gus."
Gus was running around the kitchen chasing after beagle "Snoopy"
Snoopy (primary herd dog), Gus (Snoopy's primary groupie)
When Snoopy springs into action they just leave him on his own
They know Snoopy will not return until all of the cows come home.
The yummy supper was comprised of the finest, freshest food
Sitting there quite satisfied and not wanting to appear rude
Said "I need to use the bathroom, is there one on either floor?"
First came silence, then laughter, "You'll find it outside the back door!"
It was night, pitch-black dark, there was psycho Bluebell's ghastly howl
Plus hosts of other nocturnal beasties surely on the prowl
Turning on the flashlight I made a beeline for the latrine
The visual and odors did not make an inviting scene.
Just like other things in life, subsequent "breaks" were not as bad
The fun on the farm the rest of the week left me very glad
I received hands-on experience in churning fresh butter
I milked cows twice daily by manipulating their udders
I rode the wide hay wagon pulled by the bright green farm tractor
I dropped hay bales, my allergies were the limiting factor,
Ending up with severe hay fever after only two days
The city boy jokes I had to endure left me in a daze!
Fifty years later I fondly reminisce about that week
My week on the farm, of which I now hardly find time to speak
There's joy in working a farm seeing the beauty of the land,
And the satisfaction that comes from working with one's own hands!
At the auto repair shop,
a large stuffed animal,
a St. Bernard,
adorned the sofa in the waiting room.
He almost looked real, lying there motionless,
with snow white patch on the end of his tale,
and closed bale full slits for eyes.
I exclaimed to Taylor the office manager,
"He almost looks real."
Then as if by magic,
the very tip of his tail started to move,
Sleep heavy eyes started to open,
Looking in my direction in anticipation of attention.
In an instant this small world was transformed,
by an act of recognition and kindness.
Empowering nature's strongest unspoken bond,
between a dog and a man.
Sassy the Assassinator
Sassy is a lapdog, not a large bird-dog
She likes to chase hopping bullfrogs or a hiding hedgehog.
She is a friend to a cat, but not to a groundhog
But she thinks she’s a big bad watchdog!
For years little Sassy has chased away every stray.
No matter how huge the intruder, night or day,
With tails tucked between their legs, dogs ran away.
Sassy yapping at his heels all the way.
Every dog was sent away; Sassy would not play.
Teeth and barks were her fierce display.
She once terminated forty-two baby chicks.
(In five minutes) Her owners are city-hicks.
Even though she killed chicks and gave a baby bear a fright.
Her humans know that her bark is usually worse than her bite.
She has cornered opossums, and fought with hens.
Bi-polar? Cute and mean is where the story begins.
But one day Sassy went for a ride in the car.
The visit to relatives was not very far.
When we arrived, she was ready to get outside.
And she did so proudly, her nose high with pride.
Their big dog trolloped over toward little Sassy,
He was as big as a St. Bernard and she was angry.
Yap! Yap! Yap! She barked in her usual way.
Suddenly, she looked up; he did not run away.
She tucked her tail and whimpered, which was strange.
That big dog that drooled on her head, wrought a change.
He did not bark, grumble, or growl; he just looked down.
Then, "Sassy the Assassinator", for the fist time, played around.
© August 30, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
A Dog Called America.
When sailing from Huston, Texas, to Aruba
we had an unwanted guest on board, a big
friendly dog, the captain called shore and
It turned out it belonged to the coast guard.
And since we had a small terrier *****, this
was a love story gone eschew. The dog,
it really was huge, maybe a St Bernard breed
settled in my cabin, this I think because it
assumed, since I was the cook, thus must
be the pack leader. Days later when the ship
docked in Aruba, a man from the consulate
came and took the dog ashore.
We were sorry to see this gentle giant leave us
…. Yes, we called him America.
It was a Day
He wore his cocoa-brown shirt
not silk sort-of
sort-of splayed with sinewy
filamented palm trees in
green fibrilangulared leaves
no coconuts; draping to him
like a cosy vestment tucked
deeply beneath...
St. Bernard de Clairvaux,
Oh, this sunny Sunday Morn.
to know beatitude, of a place
traveled stone by stone
stone upon stone remade
for It's Image imparvenue,
about the nave, there
a photo-snapping Song and Stepping
Borne with the Smile of Day
East to West they children
in a Rhyme... Sublime...
Alas, now,
The Day apass
from East to West
His vestmeant for cocoaed-brown
draped to him
like a cere-cloth, & tucked beneath deeply
recalls to the Day-nearly
(8.21.1153)
and the Massacre of the Troubadour, &
a felo-de-se, en Masse!
H.e.m.
7.21.MMvii.
("MWABD")
I heard you fall,
In the middle of a call.
It was around seven.
Did you fall from heaven?
You landed in my front yard,
Right in front of my St. Bernard.
There was a glow into my room.
Suddenly I saw you...
You are my,
Dream when I sleep,
Dinosaur from a prehistoric defeat,
Rythum when I hit every beat.
You fell from the sky.
Your wings so white,
You would never get in a fight.
You're the angel of innocence,
You're my white angel...
Dream of a world,
Where every girl,
Had a choice,
Had a voice.
Your harp filled my soul.
When you leave I lose control.
Life was so dull,
Before you...
You are my,
Dream when I sleep,
Dinosaur from a prehistoric defeat,
Rythum when I hit every beat.
You fell from the sky.
Your wings so white,
You would never get in a fight.
You're the angel of innocence,
You're my white angel...
Why can't you understand,
That you were meant to hold my hand,
To protect me, To help me see the light.
You're so bright,
But you're not mine.
Love is not some game,
That I play with,
It's not a blame,
It is my sweet bliss...
Dream of a world where...
You are my,
Dream when I sleep,
Dinosaur from a prehistoric defeat,
Rythum when I hit every beat.
You fell from the sky.
Your wings so white,
You would never get in a fight.
You're the angel of innocence,
You're my white angel...
Guide me0. to my next day,
Even though I'm so afraid.
I am always in such a tangle,
But you're my white angel...
'Whiskers'! That's who we called him and he passed through once a year
with his swag and billy; this time with a 'heeler' dog close near.
Our 'oldies' always said when 'Whiskers' camped beside the creek,
to keep away from that old man and don't ever stop to speak.
We saw 'Whiskers' in a different light; believing what he says,
from fighting in the army and all through his droving days.
'Whiskers' held us in his palm with these stories that he'd claim.
He scared us half to death with one. His eyes were mirrors off the flame.
I'd asked him what his dog’s name was. 'Whiskers' grinned "It's Codger.
I've had him for a year now since I lost me St. Dobpitrotger.
That dog was me personal breeding that I battled to rear up,
who snarled and growled and barked from the day he was a pup".
"I crossed a Doberman the first year with a St. Bernard for size,
then crossed one pup with a Pit Bull to get those crazy eyes.
The progeny went to a Rottweiler to get the teeth and growl;
then a German Shepherd sired me pup; a perfect guard for on the prowl".
"That St Dobpitrotger was the meanest dog you'd ever wish to see.
I tied him with a towing chain and kept a club right close to me.
Any stranger who came near me camp would have to be a dill.
He'd strain that chain; froth, roar and bark, and was prepared to kill".
"Yes boys he was a savage dog; at feeding time there's vicious signs,
when I'd give him half a goat or sheep fed off the pitch fork tines.
I'd pass water to him on a shovel, and he would snarl and strain,
but the club was always close to me in case he broke that chain".
The wind blew up; the flames they danced. 'Whiskers' knew the time was ripe.
"What happened to him?" Someone asked. 'Whiskers' sat back and lit his pipe
as he pondered for a minute 'til he had us all in his sight.
"Well, when I was asleep - some mongrel stole him through the night".
I once volunteered to babysit a dog; really, how hard could that be?
She looked at me with pitiful eyes, “Would you please watch my little puppy?”
“Sure”, I said, “I’d love to do it. Just bring him over tonight.”
“A little puppy”, is what she said, but that description didn’t fit him just right.
Only eight months old a puppy might be, that concept isn’t too hard,
But “little” isn’t an accurate word when describing a St. Bernard.
I didn’t slobber-proof myself or my things, didn’t know I had to do it,
My rain coat on and plastic coverings, was the only way I could get through it.
What he didn’t chew or eat right through he slobbered from bottom to top;
I chased him around with a leap and a bound; tracing every step with my new mop.
When she returned at the end of the week my apartment was quite the mess;
“Thank you so much, how can I repay you?” “Please, next time just loose my address!”
I will never go on a blind date again! Teresa told her best couple friends.
They exchanged looks, but kept their mouths shut.
A yellow Moped drove by.
It was driven by a man.
There was a St. Bernard on the front.
Teresa’s eyes followed the guy, the Moped and the St. Bernard.
The couple high-fived each other.
“Do you know that guy?” Teresa asked her friends.
They nodded. “He lives next door to us.”
“That’s the guy you wanted to set me up with?”
More nods.
“What are we waiting for?”