Fetch Poems

The Pet I Never Had

by Russ Dodson (c) 1968. 2025

I've never had a unicorn
because I couldn't catch one
and I know no virgin maid
whom I could send to fetch one

if I could I would fetch you the moon on a spoon

What a meal it would be…
moon on a spoon
stars on a fork
planets poked with knives

You’d have the most celestial dish
because I love you

I would play divine creator 
to soothe your soul
and to make you mine

Your eyes would sparkle
as you dine of such heavenly items

And I would be there with you
eating in unison

You must understand my

If I Could I Would Fetch You the Moon on A Spoon

If I could I would fetch you the moon on a spoon
As easy as scooping an ice cream into your cone
Everything I’ll do for you is as light as any balloon
For I’m deeply in love with you
You’re my strength, my world, my greatest inspiration.

If I could I would fetch you the moon on a spoon
With

If I Could I Would Fetch You The Moon

Love takes one's breath away,
making the heart flutter like a butterfly.
I have given you the diamond stars,
from above in the nightly sky.
If only I could fetch the moon,
I would give it to you in a huge spoon.

If I could I would fetch the moon on a spoon

If I could I would fetch the moon on a spoon
A lofty love story would come to bloom
Of all the mystic stars above 
Closer to eternity we would dwell in love

For the full moon of Autumn in all its lovely gaze
Together we reminisce of all the stories we've made
An evening of moonlight as a soft

Fishing

I threw my fishing rod into murky waters
And, as you might have guessed, caught a lousy nothing.
But true as that may be, my bait worm was ate
Now I know there is something to catch.

So, I feed the waters to check for action
As I prepare my hook to fetch in the motion.
Now that I've seen, I

What they really want is to play fetch

I must now write a limerick;
Those dogs lined up is such a trick, 
It's just a feint 
To make me faint
So they can nick my walking stick!

Wretch Will Catch and Fetch

was good looking wretch
who we will have to go fetch
could be quite a catch

Fetch

Entangled by the web we weave,
thoughts provoked, but, yet deceive.
Passing blame with slight, of hand,
a golden calf that shines so grand.

An altar set, his words are praised,
a barren field his flock is grazed.
Thirst and hunger are seldom quenched,
until at last, they all are trenched.

Be careful of the book you read,
a soured quill will slay your

All Jobs Can Big Names Fetch

Folks who make life out of Vetch,
For their farms heading on ketch,
Their future they sometimes sketch;
None thinks he’s the truest wretch,
For labor does some hope fetch,
Though, Vetch would their choosers stretch…

Now, Hot Debates in the ketch!
“I can with Vetch accounts stretch, 
Farther move from being a wretch.”
“But in Gold some their names etch
And Vetch can’t

This Had Better Fetch a Comment Or Two

A poem without a comment
          Like a nun without a convent

             All alone in the world
             Inadequacy unfurled

Discounts Fetch Smiles

There’s no amount
Which does not count
In an account…

Yep, no amount
Sellers discount
And while recount
Your whole story 
Fail to glory:
Place in praised sky
For being Quite High…

Don’t pressures mount
After discount
For more from Fount
Or self soon count
The Badly Bluffed,
His wish rebuffed…

Discounts fetch smiles;
Who gave went miles!

Do We Fetch Our Weapons

She walked out of the Aegean Sea with purpose 
Not flaunting her power, yet showing it steadily.
The other entities were not sure whether she was Greek or Roman.
In fact, she may have been from another mythology and another universe.
They watched her come, not knowing whether to feel fearful or elated.
Usually generational gene commonality linked them,

Fetch My Skimmer

Slugs and snails line the highway,
Munching, crunching, drinking fumes;
Early in the morning, late at day.

A tunnel of black ahead looms,
Feasting on diesel, ready to growl;
Into the maw a lucky one zooms.

Compacted inside the giant jowl,
Hooter poised, horsepower stalls;
Bodies meet with metallic howl.

“Fetch my skimmer, freedom calls,
Flying, leaping o’er all that appalls.”

Fetch In the Muck

Through the thick of the fog
I begged to the bog
stumped by a stymied log.
It was hollow of pride,
like a zookeeper’s dog,
reduced to bark-less hide.
From the splat of my thud
It wore polka-spot mud
and rolled just because
It knew what It was
to snap unjustified.
So what could I do
but prove what It knew
with another attack
on the cripple I threw?
If

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