Long Dog it Poems

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Premium Member There's Something About a Dog

The following words are not written to disparages cats or birds or frogs
or any other animal for that matter…it’s just, in my opinion…
there’s something about a dog!

To start with…and this can’t be a coincidence…
I mean don’t you find it odd
that when you read the letters of dog backward it spells out the word god.

It doesn’t matter what faith you are, in what place of worship you sit
or if you don’t believe in a god at all…it’s a little curious…
you have to admit.

Dogs are innocent, they are loyal, they get excited over the littlest treat.
They are just as happy in your lap as they are sitting by your feet.

When they stand looking out a window they do so with style and grace.
Their love shows up from the wag of their tail to the tongue that licks your face.

No creature on this Earth greets you better when you walk into a room.
They have a way of lifting you up out of your darkest gloom.

They know when you are sad…somehow they understand
and they try to make it better by setting their paw upon your hand.

Spend some time with a dog…it won’t take but a little while
you’ll find how fast your troubles fade away…and you cannot help but smile.

And dogs never judge you by your color, sex, religion…
their acceptance is far and wide…
They don’t judge the way we humans judge…
they judge the person who's inside.

The only criticism I have of dogs is how soon their life is through
If I had one wish….I wish that dogs…would live as long as me and you.

Sure cats are self-reliant, 
birds sing beautifully 
and no animal jumps quite like a frog
but when you get right down to it…
there’s just something about a dog.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse


Remembering a Dog

Remembering a dog


When I was young and for us not rich there was
navy academia you could learn engineering, navigation 
and catering, with my eyesight I settled for catering
After going through the grades, I got a certificate that I was
a chief steward. a job which consisted of telling the cook what
to make, buying the food needed and to do the books.
The big tank ship, oh so beautiful, sailed from oil port to to
another oil terminal and boredom set in, I left the great ship
in Antwerp and after a week ashore I got a job 
on an old freighter going into every port, you could think of
I was in my element; this was a perfect ship.
The officers were not going anywhere, no one wore uniforms 
and bothered with titles.
On a French island, I have forgotten its name, a dog came onboard
unseen and since the storeroom was open it hid there
and I didn´t see it before we were on the open sea. 
I took the dog up to the old-man he liked the dog it had a home.
Months later, when I was on another ship my old ship was
tied up in front of us, the old-man was retiring taking the dog home, 
the new captain didn´t care for dogs.
The dog remembered me, and there was a lot of kisses and cuddles.
I'm sure the little dog had a long and happy life seeing
green grass and trees.

Ghostly

Ghostly 
I sold my house to a Moldavian family
the drawback was they had two small children
the house came with two ghosts
as everyone knows, only children and poets see ghosts.
The children were not afraid they even played
with my dearly departed dog, it was just doing its
the normal routine at night, securing every room at night;
a thing it used to do before the transition.
The problem started when the children told the parents
they claimed I had not told them and demand the house sale
rescinded.
The dog is not the problem when it realizes its nightly
inspection is not needed hiding objects behind the sofa
is no longer amusing it will fade away.
As for the mule, it is not going anywhere, the house
used to be a barn and the living room a stable.
It has been here 90 years, happily munching hay.
You can even smell it on rainy days odour after
a long day, pulling the plough.
The estate agent told me not to worry about a court case
involving ghosts is a lost cause.
I wouldn´t mind if the dog came to the flat startling rats
coming up from the sewer I have to flush several times? 
Before sitting down, and keep the lid firmly closed
with a heavy object on top.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Burlesque

Into Pieces

inevitability
washes away 
all the hopes &
dreams, it 
eliminates all the
divisions between
us, it pulls us all
down to the core
meaninglessness 
of which we were
mistakenly birthed,
it takes away the
value that we naïvely 
put on this short
withering life, it
takes the kin, it takes
the dog, it takes the
bird, it takes the pet
fish & all the insects
that flew into the abode
during the time
served, they go to,
along with the bacteria,
the colds, the flu, the
germs of all shapes &
sizes---all this melts
down to the early 
components, all 
emotion & want,
all anger & pride,
everything that can
be fathomed by 
the little puny pea-sized
brains that we
strut our stuff with,
looking down on
each other as if one
was better, as if 
anything “made a
difference”---it all comes
back in the rotting
when we all reduce
into pieces, be it dead
in the coffin or burnt to
ash, flushing out just as
quickly as we came in,
without an “afterlife” or a
“god” to pat us on the 
back, without scratch n’
sniff stickers or gold stars
for a “job well done”---
it all vanishes without the
need for
made up
reason.

Slave Mentality

Slave Mentality
I had a dog for twelve years, a friendly dog it loved me it was a slave, 
had to, in order to be accepted in human society, suppress its instinct.
Nature is a hard place fight for food is endless; canines found it easier 
to make a pact with the man; give up their freedom for a can of dog food.
Often, by insecure people, slaves are spoilt allowed to be indoors sleep 
on the sofa and made to think they are the masters of the household.
Wrong, dogs are slave to be anything else puzzle them, they want you 
to be the leader and as they make you love their fidelity. 

Slaves defy their masters in subtlest ways, my dog slept on the sofa when 
I had gone to bed. Big corporations are our masters tell us what we like and 
dislike; we comply, it is the easiest way not to be critical of the employers
the hand that holds the nine tailed cat. We get our trivial revenge stealing 
a little free time when we can.  After all democracy on an empty stomach is 
 not worth fighting for; freedom is our masters’ grand illusion.
Form: Sonnet


A Dog and Thunder

A Dog and Thunder. 

I hear thunder it’s nearing, the dog, not looked after, whimpers; this
 ancient fears of Odin’s horse hooves, sparks from the gloomy sky-
Thor, is no better with his loud, idiotic thunder trying to steal his 
father’s ire. How to tell the dog its chances of getting, hit is remote?
I open the gate it runs into the shed and curls up on a rug I was about
 to throw away as it threadbare and full of holes; it was new once,
 admired for it colour and pattern. That’s the way of everything that’s
 why I only buy old bangers. There is nothing as sad as a hounded and 
ignored dog, it avoids eye contact fearful I might change my mind and 
throw it out. The owner of the dog is a man of uncertain anger if I offer 
to adopt it he might shot it as he did with another dog of when it was 
futile as a hunter of rabbits. My cowardice is endless to confront a man 
with guns on his walls, not me! I feed the poor cur, but never let into 
the house it must understand that I’m not a master... just its friend.

The Ghost and a Child

The ghost and a Child

I have a recurring dream I hadn´t been to my house for a long time, remember I had been happy 
there with my little dog, 
we used to walk in the woods, and when I was driving around in my motorbike, she was glad to see me returning.
I took a bus up, the driver didn´t ask me for money and being rather frugal. I was glad.
Outside the house, a little girl was playing, asked her If she liked living here? 
Yes, she said, and I have a dog, she said. 
The dog came. It was my dog; it didn´t recognize me growled when I called the dog`s name.
Inside the house, a couple were arguing, she said, I hate this house. It gives me the creeps
She sat down where I sat, wriggled a bit (which I liked) 
she got up, stroked the seat (which I enjoyed too) but, she was bothered and sat on another chair.
They didn´t see me, I thought they must be blind.
Outside, I asked the little girl if her parents were blind. No, she said, but they can´t see you because 
you are a ghost only a child like me can see.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

A Portrait a Madman Sorceror

A portrait me older mage sorcerer I syet
Father is yet me,i sought salem is mehowyetihadmarchedmeaobey
Tis I yet a brother i found means the cyclonicamonster below a scream of the sacrifice  sapien 
Dote stem demon is he beat the brother, daughtertisitblame
‘’piece me shout heard the locals bade thehorroryaymesuchaman
‘’plead yet taken out me own dog it obeying is treaty yet be me
‘’pleaditforthrightiyet sake she is 18 she losers the work is she yet her eyes
Blame oh the cat it shrieks, be I how do I justify 
Weep child come me, lest we find the home yet it he burning man saloon
‘’tie he  thecloud a sorcerer be thatone   hechangeling, hemadeof us
‘’weep not  I fierycurse hecausehemade the book Necromonicon be yet lest
‘’’be  me I tied I die Salems lot peach he  is death, I hereby me  cut he ye
‘’a child is yet me, thorough  me begot hurriededly he is burnt
‘’’we empower willet, fransic, dude  he featureless, Ramana cod, archibald
'''yes I seize he mine baron childless tis me I ache me burnt timber
Form: Burlesque

the past and the future

The past and the future

A war was coming our way as a patriot, I enlisted 
Although I was a bit elderly, I was accepted 
sent to a camp, with the rank of sergeant in
charge of the kitchen 
When the war ended, I took the bus back to my
village that looked the same as before, and my dog
sat on the steps waiting for me, she wanted to
go for our usual walks in the woods
After half an hour, I called the dog; it was time to 
go home, but the dog had disappeared, think she
had run home waiting to let her in, but she and
The village was not there,
Instead of a man with a golf club in his hand, I thought
looked like Trump telling me I was trespassing
But there was a village here, yes, but we got rid of
it when constructing the golf course
He looked at me and said, Are you from the past?
Yes, I am, but this is the future you are in the wrong
place, you'd better go back before your time is over
I walk to where the road and horizon merge
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: ABC

Gate

It was a late night of the lively day,                                    When I returned from the dance theater,                                    I heard a non -stop groaning sound nearby,                        The sound had come from a ghostly building,                         I opened the gate of the old mansion,                                  And I found an old wretched mother dog,                                It was in Godforsaken condition,                                          And it was nearing its menacing grave,                                      I felt grief -stricken on the old mother,                                 What a sad condition the animal had,                                        I wanted to save the mother doggy,                                            I helped the  to drink some water,                                 The mom wagged its tail for a reward,                                     In a gossamer way, it was rescued.
Form: Sonnet

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