Manners are the party fancy —
Petit goldleaf on the melting pudding,
A sticking cream now on your fingers,
Immovable for hours.
Manners like a lady,
Her morning bonnet pinned,
Perching, tilting in the wind.
That flat earth, mountained at the dome,
With feather shores and flower groves,
Shiny plastics, false as those at home.
Nods and bobs and toothy smiles,
Inflections in their proper place,
But my greetings, lumbersome and cumbering,
Like falling up the carpet staircase.
Admire my racing stripes—
How fast they run my eager thoughts,
Like greyhounds on the track.
Striped in life, strung up in death,
A dripping turkey, limbs akimbo.
My brain is too human for me,
My tongue declares me animal,
Its words condemn me man.
So I crave the choking baby squeeze,
Until my secrets spill, hurled,
Bile like from the lemon press,
Dribbling, a puddle,
A sour sting to wipe your turgid eyes,
And join the salty swimming race.
Ode To Wayne Gretzky
We all carry the same genes
and look how different we turn out;
I honed my skills to playing hockey
and look how far I’ve come.
***
Note:
Wayne Gretzky was born in Brantford, Ontario, in 1961. He played Junior Hockey in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, for the Soo Greyhounds, and in 1978, signed with the Indianapolis Races of the World Hockey Association (WHA). That same year, he was traded to the Edmonton Oilers of the WHA, who joined the National Hockey League (NHL) when the WHA folded. While with the Edmonton Oilers, Wayne and his fellow teammates won four Stanley Cups. Wayne Gretzky, aka “The Great One”, went on to play for the Los Angeles Kings, St. Louis Blues, and ended his hockey career with the New York Rangers in 1999 following his retirement.
He stands tall, muscular and magnificent. He raced the first years of his life. Not knowing how to be a pet, just a commodity. He endured grueling training, humid hot Florida weather, injuries to his body and psyche. His life changed that day we rescued him and showed him love and affection and how to be a beloved pet, he even likes his cat siblings. He is often called the 45 MPH couch potato. He is one of the lucky ones. Greyhounds are a unique and special breed. The dog racing industry is slowly being banned.
a commodity
raised to make money, not pets ~
dying industry
8/16/2020
Contest: Let The Pens Flow - Haibun Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jenish Somadas
Scientific minds are forever racing God
like greyhounds pursuing electric rabbits
tongues hanging from frothing mouths
explaining miracles away with equations-
They'll never catch infinity or bottle perfection
nor can they put a patent on heaven
they call miracles by a different name
The sick and weathered are closer to God
they can gleen spectacular from mundane
their palms are open - have the etchings of Christ
they don't have to race the electric rabbit
it hops over to them, willingly.
I
Love
All dogs
But partial
To retired greyhounds
Often mistreated when racing
Many are never able to get saved or rescued
Please consider adopting one of the many retired racers, you won't regret it
1/1/19
Fibonacci January 2019 writing challenge
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Syllable count checked with howmanysyllables.com
DOGGIE ART
Poodle
Doodle
HAPPY LASSIES
Jolly
Collies
FAMOUS CANINES
Renowned
Greyhounds
YORKSHIRE TERRIER WITH A POODLE CUT
Dorkie
Yorkie
BY THE WAY:
How's your
Schnauzer?
3/19/17
For Jan Allison's Fabulous Fun Footle Contest
Irish
'When Irish eyes are smiling',
sang the midwife, gleefully,
as she handed me a bundle,
and revealed that it was 'She'.
A baby, with the darkest hair,
blue eyes, that shone like sea,
here lay this little person,
blessed with Irish ancestry.
A girl no longer now, alas,
she's long since flown the nest,
so I replaced her swiftly,
with 2 Greyhounds, I don't jest!
Faye Shannah and Pigalle Blue,
an Irish racing pair,
but you can safely visit me,
unless you are a hare!
You could come for coffee?
and bring a Cake to finish,
actually, I love real ale,
but never, ever, Guinness!
Cheryl Yvonne Darby (Cyd)
23/02/2015
Whippet's in the wind
When greyhound
Gazed upon
Whippersnapper
Want to be
In the midday sun
Whistle of a woman
Calling canine back
Put him on the leash
Take doggy to the track
Flat cap Freddie motions
To signal his mut
Caught him by the collar
In the car he's shut
i was in the canvas seat in front,
at the pictures ...Shiela, hunt,
was playing with her little foot,
got the wrong feet, wasna Toot,
playing footsie with her momma ,
sure thing dude, what a bummma,
Dadda gave me the boot,
forthwith, depart ya great galoot, (ya mug)
sprang on me pushy bike, alone,
Kangaroo dogs did softly moan, (greyhounds)
impassioned but resolute,
Little Tooty was a beaut...
...
thank you Russell Sivey,
"my love note"
Don Johnson
I want to walk into the
Hotel Cipriani in Venice
Cigarette holder dangling
Two sleek greyhounds on
Leashes, grey cape over
My shoulders, movie starlet
On my arm, tons of baggage
Stickers, everywhere famous
A postage stamp collection
Is this some macho desire?
Maybe a curiously held goal?
I now have the insight
Identification, an answer
Years puzzling, wondering why
Knowledge of a vision
I cling to, hold so dear
A Hollywood creation
Two faced Janus, illusions
Delusions, painted reality
Of heart's hope, bright eyed
Unclaimed orphan
With a raw heart.
Villa tapestries gave the space a hushed quality
Baskets of bread fruit cold chicken and some wine
Books some paper some quills and a bottle of ink
White horse fair haired rider in crispy white uniform
The leaping deer almost invisible in the far distance
Dozens of lithe greyhounds darted in the dark glade
Fair pretty delicate her even gaze tinged with sorrow
Series of quick sketches A finished study A painting
Of a renaissance angel Liquid shining ceramic dish
Air rich with the scent baking roasting pastymaking
Beautiful silver gown long lace veil spring flowers
Immense old oaks and chestnuts branch canopy
Enjoy helping hunt and collect plants of the forest
Taking his arm affectionately gathered her cloak