Bloodhound Poems - Poems about Bloodhound

Off course I avoid you. Why would I want to be around a blood hound sniffing around - looking for faults. I know what and where my faults are because I keep slipping into the same ones. You bloodhounds may have good sniffers but the eyesight not so much... or you would have noticed that my faults are not as wide...

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The Bloodhound. He’s coming, yes he’s coming I know he is I can smell him I know I can, Oh that bad scent You’d think he’d stop rubbing himself in it. But I love him I love him I love him, he is my master I getting a hint of gun oil now, this means only one...

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Proud of having in veins Anglo-Scottish blood, hound is the suitable surname I have earned for the tireless tracking instinct ingrained in me, an exclusive pedigree of rare gene manifest in razor-edge sharpness of a keen sense of smell, captured by profuse olfactory receptors well. Unleashed in countryside thicket in the wild I excel as prized hunter of agile animal blood, no less...

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The Bloodhound I hate my job. I am a work dog who can sniff out life and wrongdoing. I nip at the tired heels in shackles. I sniffed for the ensnarled and enslaved on barren southern soil. I sniff for vulnerable creatures. My bark is a hoarse moan for blood, captivity and death. It carries through the Spanish Moss, fields and swamps, a signal...

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Dawn breaks over the horizon in a thin, frail line my large snout presses downward upon the ragged earth beneath, for I am on the hunt absorbed in my task, scanning and searching for that elusive scent that is in my wake. Like a great detective, I will leave no stone unturned I am proud of my prodigious nose, finely...

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I can't wait for the sun to set, but it's taking its sweet old time! My master takes me hunting for raccoons after dark, and I’m anxious to sniff out their trail. A plethora of odors assault my sensitive nose confusing my brain, but once I smell my master's coonskin hat, BAM! We're off to the game with my tail...

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Morning has risen the sky is showing off a bit more enthusiasm than i with my ears hanging off the edge of the bed my worried look shows through the wrinkles slumped on my face i know the routine a quick kiss on the head leaving me with the same stain of faded pink lips as the coffee cup rim then you mutter i will...

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'Bloodhound', Heartbroken eyes, Wags furry empennage, Raises hopeful household, perhaps, Baffled. *Traditional Cinquain 2-4-6-8-2 Syllables First line - title, last line - connects title...

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Bloodhound Sad eyes Wags his tail A hopeful sign, perchance, Confused. *Modern Cinquain...

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Death sniffs around until it finds the heel works its way up to the throat. Leaves a wet spot-on happiness and hope. Two big black snotty holes, (one from which you came}. The other where everyone eventually goes. Death, like a bloodhound nose....

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The blanket of darkness hides innocent eyes, powerful allies. Powerful allies stand guard and set vigilance, musky sweat. What goes unnoticed , with a strong will forms a pattern. The groove is carved deeper into the path to follow a dear heart and bring them back to safety. Going unnoticed, untracked footsteps are sinking deeper into the night. Go hounds ,...

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