My Sassy and Cosmo are the two dogs for me
Sassy a mix terrier and Cosmo a Great Pyrenees
Sassy has wire hair a little coarse to the touch
Cosmo coat soft as cotton feels like fluff
Cosmo a giant puppy clumsy and cute
his blondish white fur for him suits
Sassy coat like a Jack Russel terrier
left ear down right one up for merrier
Cosmo is a eating machine
licks his and Sassy 's dinner bowls clean
Sassy finally growls Cosmo away
so she can eat must have her say
They play together a little ruff
like two miniature grizzle tough
Growling barking biting no fear
their big paws my lawn they tear
They chase each other till worn out
then pant exhausted smiles about
At night they sleep side by side
Sassy his gal Cosmo her guy
Cosmo is in that chewing stage
bones and toys for his teeth to rage
He whimpers and whines to get his way
wants his chest scratched always
Sassy seems unsure at times
for Genghis and Kublai can't find
but with Cosmo she is not alone
Sassy and I adopted him, he's home.
Mr. J. Clown is incredibly sad,
His Jack Russel Terriers made him mad
They ripped her face off
With nary a cough
She was prettiest doll he’d ever had
I sit here at two in the morning
with pencil in hand
for the poem I am penning.
The lights are low
save the one on my desk.
In the ashtray
a cigarette is burning.
Gentle spring breezes blow
cool but not cold
wafting scents
of a lawn freshly mowed.
The sheers at the french doors
billow and dance
as the wind puffs and blows.
In the background
the music softly plays,
cascades and flows.
A clarinet, violin, french horn,
and now an oboe
fill my ears
as the fire in the fire place burns low.
Smells of the cookies I baked
nearly an hour ago
still linger and mingle
in and about each nook of the room.
The Jack Russel at my feet
lightly snores
as the cat stretches and circles
for a nap on the hearth floor.
For my public,
what shall I write for them?
What is in store?
Then Bam
a book falls to the floor
and I am jolted from my nap of dreams.
You see
nothing is always quite
what it seems !!
This poem is part of a series including Sunset Reverie, An Evening by The Lake,
Days End, On Comes The Night and Tiny White Canoe
He was graced with long life as the work he required,
A present flame, aft he retired,
He deepened the souls that sat before him,
And made them express with written decorum.
He read their assignments with special attention
That challenged and called forth youth's finest rendition.
He opened the door to a life well read,
His students entangled in Baalat's web.
Gazing back through the specularium of time
One saw an intellect so immensely fine
That it slightly abashed those of higher grade,
His light joining their lights where others fade.
Moving on one lingered a bit in the past,
Still meeting challenges from his intellect, so vast.
That it scarce was contained
In the role for him framed.
His soul now borne upon the Stygian Lake
Leaves proper grammar trailing in its wake;
This gentle muse vanished in the night,
The curtains closed, doused the light.
No need for stately obelisk oe'r his bier
To greet mournful pilgrims once a year;
For though he'll be long gone,
The phallic symbol, he loved so, lives on.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.