Best Wag Poems
One day a scruffy looking dog turned up on the doorstep,
an independent sort of lad. Now to who do you belong?
wondered the boy calling for his dad. "Look Dad can we keep him"
"Well while we look for his owners. He must belong to someone"
Time went on and they called him Wag as his tail never stopped.
He always stayed near to young Tim somehow knowing he was ill.
Saved his life too a few times until the day came when
Tim fell into a coma his young body ravished by the cancer.
After the funeral Wag went to the man and laid his head on his knee,
Then the man realised that Wag's time here was done and he was saying goodbye.
The last he saw of him he was trotting north, purpose in every stride.
He thought to himself in nine years he never seemed to age.
So he did some research and the stories of Wag were astonishing,
where ever a child was mortally ill Wag would turn up bringing Joy.
These story spanned over sixty years yet Wag looked around three.
What ever you are he thought thank you for making Tim's life easier.
As for Wag, well he travelled on until he got to Mary's home.
There he stayed for twelve years bringing her cheer each day.
Yet when ever a picture was taken, he would not be in it.
To this day none know why but all love him and all call him Wag.
My hair is dyed to hide the grey and how my boobies sag
But I have it on good authority I’m a ‘Walnut Wag’
A ‘Walnut Wag’ … what’s that you may ask
I will enlighten you for that’s my task
A ‘Walnut Wag’ is the partner of someone with prostate cancer
This cancer can be cured so don’t let your man be a chancer
From our experience early detection is the key
With treatment your man can be cancer free
15th January 2016
We loved the movie
We enjoyed it…
It tells the truth about life
And it foretells it in advance…
With countries starting with an ‘A’:
Albania - Afganistan…
About Monica and Bill
And wars on terror just began…
And good new is:
It never ends!
A symphony escort named Brute
Was charging each man with no suit
He must have been witty
To dupe Maestro Smitty
He also made off with his lute
In human affairs, what prepares
A mortgage to funnel a home
A church to repent its coffers
A vehicle to search its on tank
What keeps stolen pride alive
While kingdoms crumble
Let it be
The barnacles of the bridge
Enlightenment rescind its kid
As chalkboards charter a change
Or simply rearrange furniture
The hospital panic to save us
When jobs dont cover the cost
All the workers will wander around lost
In the future to plunge
Awareness with an empty lung
Even after a day of fun
Sunday night can be a drag
I’d like to see its tail wag
all bubbly, perky, eager
like a woodland beaver
You sure don't care,
of the willy wag's
tail flickering,
a glorious
morning,
in
opposition
to burning trees,
a desolation
held so fast,
burning embers
flickering hands
casting out
those flames...
a fire-starter,
whose time begins,
this sick-ness
is the air
we breathe
and try to forgive.....
our sins
and theirs,
and the dark is here
as the flood-lights,
illuminates new-born skies
to eliminate past cries..
Wag
Sekond minuut, na uur na dag
‘n Dag na nag, na week verwag
Poseer die mag terwyl ek wag
Totdat ek sag jou woord hoor lag
Vir liefde, week na maand na jaar
wag soekend hard deur die gevaar.
Die hart soek ook maar wag reeds daar
Die kop het nog nie oor gevaar
Wat help die wagery ‘n mens?
Die wag verwag ook maar ‘n wens
Soos wag-‘n-bietjie tydloos staan
soek tyd ‘n hart om te vermaan
‘n hart klop op sy eie tyd
Die brein bereken net sy spyt
Sinkronisasie sal bepaal
of brein se pas die hart gaan haal
Of wie gaan wag en wie gaan keer
Die kop vir hart - en die hart - vir seer…
Form:
A Wag Tail called Jack
Whenever I feel sad or low
it’s to my garden I will go
and there I always seem to see
a little wag tail watching me
he has a flash upon his chest
that’s how I know him from the rest
I often wonder if he knows
I’m feeling down, for when I show
he’s never scared, won’t fly away
just wags his tail content to stay
my spirits lift and I feel grand
he eats the crumbs from out my hand
Know what I think, ‘tween you and me
I think our Jack is watching me
‘Animal Spirit’ April 2010
Jack , my brother died 2002. he always kept an eye on me.
The tongues they wag, with constant chatter
making such a noise, making such a clatter
spreading all their lies thinly , on their toast with tea
How I wish their tongues would stop, wagging about me.
So and so was seen it's true, I cannot tell a lie
Going somewhere late, with another guy
did you hear the latest about that Mr. Jones?
He's not going to the Coast, for he has lost his home.
Did you see that woman, the way she wears her dress?
what could she be thinking, I could never guess.
I heard the other day, the most dreadful thing you know,
He's so absolutely vile, that Mr. So and So.
How the tongues they do wag, with constant dark delight
Spreading all their hate, it just does not seem right,.
Form:
Wiggelly, wiggelly wag,
a worm is in the bag;
squiggelly, squiggelly squoo,
and now I've counted two;
wiggelly, squiggelly dee,
another one is three!
LOL, my nursery rhyme for Eve's contest, written 5th March
Wag your tails in agreement
my big-footed band,
there’s nothing can beat us
in dinosaur land!
Fear not for tomorrow
for we wear the crown,
eat your fill of the forest,
then trample it down.
Don’t weep for the injured,
the small and the frail,
the more you can eat them
the strong will prevail.
So gorge on the world and get
monstrously large,
and thus will our species
stay always in charge.
Wag your tails if you hear me,
my tiny-brained friends,
for night-time approaches,
the big sleep descends.
Don’t listen to rumours
Now floating about,
For sure, there is nothing
That can wipe us out.
Not all tongue that wag
You dishonorably gag …
Of course not that of my Neighbor
Which assigned to itself Christ’s Labor
For it doesn’t behind lag
And will ever out ***,
While demolishing knickers that sag;
Women that fripperies drag,
Hundreds of cosmetics bag,
Fun always pokes at a hag
Or lanes walk that zigzag
And in the church read a mag!
The tongues that sensibly wag
Should about it richly brag,
Even as their victims nag,
Their anger rocky crag.
We really rather love our Mr Wag.
A bag of music, music in a bag.
Such masterpieces did he once produce.
We listen every day to Mr Wag.
Oh such a man, a wit was Mr Wag.
Oh what a dish of gifts, oh what a bag.
A Ring he made for us to hear, not wear.
The Nibelungen sent by Mr Wag.
So Rheingold was the first from Mr Wag.
And then we had Walküre in the bag.
The Ring then brought us Siegfried as the third.
The fourth one's hard to say, dear Mr Wag.
Could cause some difficulty, Mr Wag,
for Götterdämmerung is in this bag
and can be hard, this Götterdämmerung.
You see that “o” and “a” there, Mr Wag?
There's also that name here, oh Mr Wag.
We say as Vahgner, and it's in the bag.
So “Wag”, you see, is “Wagner”, that OK?
For that word's in the bag now, Mr Wag.
(16 Jul 2023)
Offerings we hold on to,
in time become egoic glue
and thus suspect are desires,
chasing dreams ego aspires.
Ego’s but an interface,
letting memory retrace
fond longings holding appeal,
rekindled with zest and zeal.
Conjuring thus, our life script,
our soul’s light now derelict,
we prolong our agony,
bemused by pain’s symphony.
To know the truth, clear as day,
cessation then is the way,
bringing soul’s light centre stage,
signalling we’ve come of age.