Long Beagles Poems
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Page 7
We’ll build a wooden structure
With planks torn from our ships
And place it by their gates
Then we wait for the eclipse
Now I know you all have questions
About how I know these things
But I’ve studied all religions
Foreign Nations, Queens and Kings
Some kingdoms honor Bears
Some worship cats and eagles
Some lions, tigers, bears, “Oh My”
Foxes, wolfs and beagles
Now, these Trojans have one fondness
It stands upon four feet
It feeds upon the grassy plains
And they ride it down their streets
We will build it long and sleek
With a tail tacked to its end
And ears, upon its oblong head
But, with one thing more to send
There, concealed inside its belly
Are those who lie in wait
For the beast to be drawn inside
The Trojan’s massive gates
Page 8
So until the sun starts rising
You men must now embark
And assemble the device
While working in the dark
The others on the beach
A distraction will devise
To keep your labor secret
From those Trojan’s prying eyes
Now off with you, behind that mound
I have a party to attend
It’s not often I can have some fun
At the same time to offend
( Troy 1184 BC, The Beach Party )
The Flames of passion darted up
Into the evening air
It made the glittering of sand
Seamed like stars were everywhere
The drums had reached a beat
That made the young men, have to dance
And I’m sure it made The Trojans
Lose control and wet their pants
Page 9
While young men danced on burning sands
Displaying sex appeal
The Greeks would pause and strike a pose
And flex their buns of steel
The Trojans on the wall
Filled with heighten passion soon
Turned their backs and dropped the drawers
Displaying many moons
It seemed as if, we played all night
Now its time to take our chances
Bring forth the horse, and by due course
We all took second glances
The carpenters that worked all night
Had never seen the beast
It was a horrible interpretation
That is to say the least
I should have choose an artist
Much more suited for the task
For instead of building a mighty horse
There stood a giant ass.
No time to make corrections for
The dawn was growing near
We must move without detection
And crawl in through its rear
To be continued...................
Once upon a most wonderful walk, a girl and her seven dogs
Shared an entirely spontaneous and ridiculously rude,
Yet delightfully playful social interaction.
To the dreary, disapproving outside world,
This may have looked rather unsightly,
Perhaps a broken, unspoken social rule,
Or some other confounded self-deprecating public infraction.
Did they not see how much fun by all was had?
The girl pondered why these precious moments were considered bad.
She couldn't understand why it sometimes seemed to make people mad.
She quite enjoyed it when, like now, between themselves,
Their masks eroded as they found their voices raised.
Better that than society's depravity and sickness,
Covert malady disguised as neutrality, a most maddening banality.
Not everyone can be what is considered well-behaved,
And some even enjoy the odd social rule being waved.
In all the excitement of their wild, unruly play,
Not one sign of intervention could be seen from the girl,
Once again, firmly in the middle of this most magnificent fray.
Briefly, all behaved like vagabonds, running amok the countryside.
As they rampantly roughhoused, unconcerned if conflict occasionally ensued.
Two beagles hurriedly fled, no doubt tracking a scent
As they furrowed through fields and frolicked far away.
The girl waved them off with a crooked smile,
Noting their exasperation with everyone's nonsense
Amidst the spicy wilderness for the fifth or maybe fifteenth time that day.
Upon their return to what was surely now a ruckus,
Curiously, they began to whisper; all slowly stopped and strained to listen
To each word, those beagles would so very softly say.
Dysregulation quickly and quietly became self-regulation;
Autonomy needs had been met, content they were truly free,
Not caring to remember what life without that used to be,
They collected themselves and merrily went upon their way
Sharing many pleasing walks this way, spontaneously breaking out into play,
Just a girl with ADHD and her seven so precious rescue dogs,
Yet not one of them ever did stop or spend a single moment in wonder,
How anyone could ever consider kindness and cooperation
Over cruelty and control, the makings of a potent social blunder?
He was only 4 months old
When he was placed in my arms
He was abused, sad and only a puppy
Give him a good home is all he said
I cried when he handed me that sad eye'd little guy
He was full of energy as he zipped about
He was my boy there was no doubt
At 10 o'clock every night
He would run down the hall ready for bed
He'd stand there and wine till I picked him up
Wrestling on the bed became an evening ritual
Then we would snuggle in for a night of rest
He became my personal protector
Growl and snap at anyone he thought would hurt me
He was my friend and his coat absorb many a tear
He gave me comfort in times of need
His little heart was a big as he
We would go for rides, but he loved to camp
Ice cream from Dairy Queen was our favorite snack
We have since added another to our little circle
They lie belly up in the bright sunshine
I look in their eyes and can't deny it
No other human could love them as much as I
They like to be seen and love to be heard
Their real names are Teddy Jay and Toby Michael
Oh, sweet little dogs that won my heart
Ears flopping, dark brown eyes never fail to delight
Each morning they join me in bed
Till I rise up and take them outside for a while
My sweet little Beagles their toys strung about
Their small, their cute they are under my feet
But truth be told, although I scold and reprimands
They still greet me at the door their little tails wagging
Their bright eyes alive with glee
Showing their love for me
But when I doubt what life's all about
And I question all I feel inside
And when my heart in torn apart
And when I cry all alone
One snuggles my neck the other my hand
And to my surprise I realize they understand.
Form:
Overweight Terrier:
Porky
Yorkie
Un-cool Terrier:
Dorky
Yorkie
Spaniel dog breeder:
Cocker
Stocker
Parrot who mimics a Spaniel's bark:
Cocker
Mocker
Book on how to care for Cockers:
Spaniel
Manuel
Originally from England, a well-rounded Spaniel stays in shape by playing:
Cocker
Soccer
Then showers and dresses by its:
Cocker
Locker
Dachshund headgear:
Weenie
Beenie
Grouchy Dachshund:
Meany
Weenie
Proportionally, male Dachshunds have:
Teenie
Weenies
(But size isn't everything)
Dachshund making critcal life choices:
Eenie
Weenie...
Lassie was a level-headed dog and never engaged in:
Collie
Folly
Reared in a loving environnment, she was a rather:
Jolly
Collie
Bred in the capitol city of NC, making her a:
Raleigh
Collie
To commemorate her frequent (and often rowdy) visits to N.O. a streetcar was renamed the:
Collie
Trolley
Snoopy immigrated to the States but alas, was found not to be a:
Legal
Beagle
Thus he was deported back to England but was promptly knighted by the Queen becoming a:
Regal
Beagle
Now a celebrity, he even had an entourage of nubile young female beagles named:
Snoopy's
Groupies
Eventually, he met his soul mate, married her in Westminster Abbey and it is rumored that they engaged in numerous and somewhat kinky sessions of:
Snoopy
Whoopie
Nineteen was the year that I knew everything
I got married and pregnant that year.
I was svelte and smart and confident.
Nineteen was one of my favorite years ever.
I made a lovely nineteen-year-old bride.
Nineteen was the beginning of most of my favorite years.
Nineteen 52, my birth year
Nineteen 64, the year I turned twelve and knew I was smart
Nineteen 70, the year I left my parents’ home to begin my adult life
Nineteen 72
Nineteen 74
Nineteen 79
The years I had my three daughters
Nineteen dogs? No one has nineteen dogs!
At the same time?
Yes, I did.
And no, they were not from the same litter.
Okay the five beagles were, but none of the others.
We lived close to an animal shelter, and I love dogs.
If I had a bad day I would stop by and try to not adopt another dog.
It never worked. One day I brought four home.
Nineteen is one of my favorite numbers.
Which I did not know
Until I began typing this poem.
My identical twin got married on the number nineteen.
She also got divorced on the number nineteen.
Not the same man.
Long story.
Nineteen minutes later you would be begging me to stop telling it.
I will not even start.
I will lie here and ponder other favorite nineteens in my lives.
I am sure there are at least nineteen of them.
Playing with the kittens
Full of scratches I was gettin
Sitting in the apple tree for hours
Dreaming of how God chose the colors of the sky
Watchfully gazing
As the clouds passed by
Long walks on the farm with dad
Training the beagles
But what I loved the most
Talks on the porch sitting so close
PUPPIES everywhere nibbling, cuddling
Huge smiles
There’s nothing better as a child
Hanging upside down on my swing set
Still wondering about God’s paint set
How much fun God must have everyday
To start the morning off with such delightful play
Catching bees, lightning bugs and baby birds that had fallen
Running from the bees and the momma birds
That were calling
Riding in the back of the truck with my uncle
When he went to feed the cows
Do kids get to do anything
That cool now
With my grandma Id sew
Small creations of the day
She always put out
Proudly on display
Braids dangling from my cowboy hat
Shooting my pop gun at the cat
Watching Roy Rodgers
Not missing a day
He was my hero
And still is today
Sneaking so silently
With my butterfly net
But never close enough
Could I get
No video games
Not much tv
Please explain to me what you did
All I can say is that it was
A great time to be kid
Form:
Kiddos In Old Town
I rode my bike through
Old Town today
it used to be a few blocks
of bars and low rent restaurants
with Friday and Saturday night
live music pouring through
open doors and windows
back when I first moved to town
in the early seventies
now it’s a pedestrian mall
filled with moms and their
little kiddos out for
some sun and fun without
hassle or travel… the kids
playing in fountains that spurt
up water from random spouts
four feet into the air showering
them with cool streams in the summer sun
as I sat happily watching the kids
a woman around my age walked
into the fountain area with her
thirteen-year-old beagle unleashed
he obviously knew the drill
jumping between spouts as each
shot a stream of water into the air
getting soaked and loving it
the kids went bonkers watching him
and moms loved the show
I saw brightly colored joy in
little faces and mother’s hearts
the warm summer sun keeping
watch over kiddos having a blast
and the pure fun in the beagles being
set a grin on my lips and poetry
running through my mind
I thanked the woman and her wet pup
for being my muse of the day
jumped on my bike and split…
Dull Moments
I feel numb.
My wits have been fried, at the ends...
It happened, more than once.
It was a little each time I watched the TV,
and they talked about the "free".
Who are they speaking of?
Who are they talking about?
Free money for those that are too lazy to work.
Free money for those that came here, to do harm.
Free education, and a free vacation,
at the expense of all the citizens
who came to stare too long into the box.
They are all asleep now,
and repeat the process,
of voting in...
and toting the baggage
of the elite.
Building a better today than yesterday?
Do you buy that now?
Do you need a cow?
Are you short of milk...
for your children?
Better,
What is better about today?
High food, high gas, high cost of shelter,
illegal's and wild beagles on the streets, in tents for homes
and no one to pay the bill, much less the taxes or the tip,
to get their fill.
Back,
to the "basics"... are all in their speeches...
like leaches, they make up new ways to draw blood.
"Believe in us, and do as your told."
The mantra of old,
rings true...
even today
in every way!
Two years together have flown right by,
Growing and sniffing the entire country side,
I'm still waiting for the day when you don't get sick on the way,
especially with how happy you are for a Sunday's slow drive-away,
You've put your weight on,
and jump pretty high,
Especially when the milk bone is gonna get inside.
I have to say that you make me feel good,
You want nothing but some love,
or a gentle pet on the back,
a little more room with me to take a nap,
I wonder if you know how much room you actually take?
for my Beagle Buster Boy snoring away!
I would never think it would be that much too,
But then again it feels absolutely great sleeping next to you,
Nothing against the cats in the room,
If that's your thing,
I get your grove,
But for the money give me a dog,
One which is brown and spotted with white,
one with floppy ears that almost hits the floor and drag at night,
A hound of some type,
Preferably a Beagles,
They love to hang out,
on the porch,
outside all the day,
sitting loyally,
knowing something will drop on the ground to eat....
Right there at his buddy's feet.
.
An occurrence that exists in
all walks of our life's happenstances
Some will cheer for you, others
give you despicable glances,
Still others, as here, deride you in comments.
It's a place people work for...filled
with lack of sleep!
It becomes a me against you event,
Now why is that?
People are joyful to rise like a eagle!
Only to insulted by those not here
for poetry at all.
They remind me of angry beagles.
Cyberbullies jump out at you.
I have had it here with infants having
tantrums.
Worse .....you bruise poet souls.
Most of us know who you are.
Comments are for supporting not
cutting any Poet's throat.
It's in the ground rules here but some
of you do not know it.
If you don't like another because of
religious views or political views, do
not read their poetry. Period!
Keep hate out of comments, it's the
kindest thing you can do.
Hate builds no prestige or poetry
at all.
Worst of all it makes you pin size
small.
Just leaves you alone, howling!
With a smirk..The lone, nasty oddball!
Panagiota Romios
4/30/2019
11:45pm PST