Of course I avoid you.
Why would I want to hang out?
Sniffing around - looking for faults like a buck-toothed bloodhound
I know what and where my fault lines are.
Because I keep slipping into the same ones.
Your bloodhounds may have good sniffers.
But the eyesight not so much...
My faults, though significant, are not as wide as before.
I try now and again to stitch them up to stem the flow of blood.
I've also got some bloodhound in me.
That happens to be my biggest fault.
I can see your faults are a bit wider than before.
Have you misplaced your needle and thread?
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 accomplished in tracking human scent,
howsoever feeble and distant that might be,
a singular trait that makes me make a mark
tracing criminals as super-sleuth bloodhound.
July 12, 2019
Contest : Pick a title, vol.6-Personification
Sponsor : Edward Ibeh
Title chosen : The Bloodhound
Dawn breaks…
over the horizon in a thin, frail line
my large snout presses downward
upon the ragged earth
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 leave no stone unturned
I am proud of my prodigious nose
finely tuned, precise as a compass
I can detect the rarest of scents
I probe to follow that unique smell
to find what is lost...
it is the zenith of my existence.
What, ho! Now, the scent!
My body trembles with the thrill of discovery!
Onward, I go, with eager anticipation
I will not stop until I reach my destination.
Alas, my determination pays off
my master sees the end in sight...
I do not understand his sudden sadness
how he draws back
at the scene set before him.
As I nuzzle close to my master
his salty tears drench my face
my doleful eyes seem to comfort him
as we huddle together
underneath the dry, hot sun.
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 wagging.
I'm excited; and let out a soulful, impatient howl.
Then almost imperceptibly,
dusk drops a curtain of darkness, the moon rises,
and I hear my master's footsteps!
He pats my head with a familiar friendly hand
and a shiver runs up my spine to the tip of my tale.
I'm jumping around, eager to get underway,
when master presses the coonskin hat to my nose;
all other smells slip away
and I concentrate on that one scent alone.
I feel invigorated,
I so enjoy being part of the team!
(Personification)
06,29,2019
Pick A Title, Vol 6 - Personification - Poetry Contest
1.) The Bloodhound
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
'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
Bloodhound
Sad eyes
Wags his tail
A hopeful sign, perchance,
Confused.
*Modern Cinquain
Death sniffs around
until it finds the heel
and works its way up to the throat.
Leaves a wet spot over happiness and hope.
Two big black snotty holes,
(One from which you came).
The other where everyone eventually goes.
Death, like a bloodhound's nose.
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