Mastiff Poems | Examples

just for laughs, again: senryus

Joseph and Mary
had a dear friend named Harry
who loved his dairy

came baby Jesus
then Harry went to pieces
oh this is grievous

babies drink dairy
but not yours trust me Harry
Joseph trust Mary

came Mastiff Hey'Zeus
saw Harry and had figured
puss without its boots

oh Mary Joseph
is Hey'Zeus just visiting
he's your new brother

strange though drinks dairy
oh nice bet you hate won ton
well did plan to change

Refurbished Nursery Rhymes: Old Mother Hubbard, a Cautionary Tale

When Old Mother Hubbard
Examined her cupboard
And found not a scrap there to munch on,
Not one morsel that clung
To an ort or a crumb,
She felt foolish and dumb
And stood sucking her thumb
While her dog, Butch, got nothing for luncheon.
"She forgot to go shopping again," grumbled he.
She just scratched his ears sighing,
"Sorry, pal. C'est la vie."
When pangs of hunger are felt,
Humans tighten their belt,
But poor Butch started howling
As his stomach was growling,
For a mastiff has needs to be regularly fed.
So…since there was no baloney…
And…since she was nice and bony…
Mother Hubbard wound up on the menu instead.

This tale has a moral,
As some nursery rhymes do,
And this one's a little bit gruesome, it's true:
A pet owner's job's
To protect not neglect him,
So feed yours each mealtime,
For if too long overdue,
Your "Butch" might be inclined
To make a meal out of you.

Nato's War

NATO's war.

It was on a bright day in 1949 the Washington treaty was signed and later called NATO.
This treaty was purely an American undertaken and designed to surround Russia with enemy troops and sow distrust of the Russia based on endless propaganda.
When the communist system collapsed one would think 
NATO was no longer needed, but no, not so, because 
that organization had changed its character from a passive watchdog to an aggressive mastiff.
The US administration had promised Russia under Gorbachev that NATO would not expand further eastward, but this promise was quickly broken in the head rush of winning over an old foe.
Russia did not forget and forgive!
In 1991 Gorbachev removed communism from the constitution and the market economy began with volatile results until Mr. Putin emerged and made the country, right-winged and Christian and demanding
respect to stop NATO expansion eastward.

Here we are Russia in a country she does not want to occupy, while the “democratic states” are passively
defending a corrupt Ukraine.

A Dog

I claimed ---and passionately---
that I'd never have a small dog, 
much less one with "poo" in its name.
Not for me yappy Yorkies, shivering Chihuahuas,
shaky Shih Tzus, or terrible terriers.
Give me a wolfhound, a Dane, a mastiff,
a dog with paws like saucers, 
a bark like thunder, and a tail like a whip, 
(Christmas tree be damned!)
I prefer drooling retrievers, dignified shepherds.
hard-working setters, lumbering Bernards. 

With this firmly in mind, 
I went puppy shopping today.

Meet my Maltipoo.
Cujo.
(I haven't lost my mind completely.)

A Mastiff In Reno

A Neapolitan Mastiff in Reno
Sometimes overindulges in vino
He’ll stagger and ramble
But will never gamble
Unless he stumbles into a game of keno

1/15/22

Raining Dogs

Well that’s something new I said with a twist.
A lopsided pile of dogs that went past my wrist.
They are still coming down! Watch out said boy Pete.
I looked to the sky, and was bombarded by feet.

Paws, tails, wiggles, and slurping tongues from the sky. 
I could not stop looking as dogs came down – me oh my!
How is this happening? I asked as a collie went floating by.
A boxer and bulldog breathed in my hair and gave me a sigh.

A cocker spaniel breezed down, with sore red eyes.
I was surprised by a mastiff, who was giant size.
A cairn terrier was the next to land with a lurch.
I knew now that God had heard my prayer in church.

I had asked for a dog, so this had to be assign.
I turned to my mother and asked “Which dog is mine?”
She was horrified, and stopped devouring her bread made with leaven.
Wishing she had never told me I would have to ask heaven.

Las Meninas 2

figures of the court 
filling vermillion red lake ochres
theology of art on huge surface
las meninas 
on either side the little princess
in her own pensive world
chaperone hiding mourning
unknown guardadama attentive
dwarfs on the corner /disturbing
mastiff /tapestry head about 
to fall or rise/ the fire burnt
face restored new life 
of freedom

One Liner - English Mastiff

After the Autumn of my life I hope the mention of my memory will include a smile.

12/04/2015

 Written for a contest, One Liners

English Mastiff - a Love Story

Both of our baby girls wear a black mask.
They try listen to do what my wife asks.
These gentle giants far outweigh my wife.
The two girls are a large part of her life.

Shelby is the watcher by my wife’s side.
She has been with us since she first cried.
Molly is always there looking up for attention.
She is quick to defend without any mention.

For me, these girls are a blessing, I adore.
They slobber, pass gas, and they even snore.
Both these girls get me off the ol' hook.
We love them for they give more than a look.

Without trying a dog will fill your heart.
A friend and bond until death do you part.

Edward J. Ebbs - November 23, 2014


Written for a Contest, Pets

In Dog We Trust

Something as small as a Chihuahua or a Pomeranian,
or as large as a Mastiff or Great Dane,
is taxonomically classified as “Canis familiaris”.
This domesticated species is man’s companion.
Dogs are found anywhere between Sydney and Ft. Wayne.
They have an ages-old history that is glorious.
Whether they are from a pedigree, or a mixed breed,
man’s best friend is a friend indeed.

Who Shot My Dog

WHO SHOT MY DOG?
Dedicated to my English mastiff, Zeus

Who would shoot my dog
The brindle warrior
Whose brave heart
Kept me safe
Whose eyes
Followed me in faithfulness
When tears of anguish fell
The male who had my trust
Slept beside me nightly
Alert at any strangers touch
Upon my door
The one true friend who
Never wandered from my side
What cravenly bastard shot my dog

Debs Rattle

Acrotic?
Bored, I got sunburnt,
Evidently, I learnt,
Across the road ,
Cantered cane toads, 
Henry thought it’s fine,
Bull mastiff Jerry Hog's,
Laugh's at every bodies dogs,
A growling all the time .
No body wore their togs,
Kangaroos were banned,
Elisa sat and did count frogs,
Too hot the ladies fanned,
But later on the Hog had gone,
I thought he did it nicely,
Not the dog on the grog,
Go a bit unsound precisely,Over dog diddle cocked leg widdle, worn so nicely. 

ALLITERATION?
Met her on the Balmoral tram in 68 or 9,
mostly she was short and sweet our eyes did lock,
miss Dark hair, she'd brought some wine.
Maybe came together once sublime and then she went away.
My fate to meet, a child to make, & parted from that day.
My boy was born in 69 perhaps an adopted fate,
May wonder where is he now this Dan or Nathan maybe 28?

Abc?
All I wanted was the sex,
But she wanted babies,
Can I take a bloody bex,   (pain killer)
Don’t care much for rabies,
Every time I vacillate,
Frown it comes with maybes…

Beach B B

Beach, I went sunburnt,
Evidently, I learnt,
Across the road ,
Cantered cane toads, 
Henry thought it’s fine,
Bull mastiff Jerry Hog's,
Laugh's at every bodies dogs,
A growling all the time .
No body wore their togs,
Kangaroos were banned,
Elisa sat and did count frogs,
Too hot the ladies fanned,
But later on the Hog had gone,
I thought he did it nicely,
Not the dog on the grog,
Go a bit unsound precisely,
Over dog diddle cocked leg widdle, worn so nicely.

for Linda Marie's "Beach Blanket Bingo" contest


5-jul-11 Don Johnson

Fighting Chance

I read about this true story - it happened in Elizabethan England - and was so 
upset that I needed to write this poem to get it off my chest. It's been published 3 
times.

FIGHTING CHANCE

The mobs that packed the place
Were slavering for blood;
They sniffed it in the air
And, drooling, watched it flood.

The bears and bulls were dead;
A horse was dragged to fight,
It whinnied, reared and bucked,
Its nostrils flared in fright.

The pack was at the horse,
Their hungry jaws like traps;
That brutal, bloody scene 
Was met with cheers and claps.

The gore of horse and dogs 
Had turned the dust red-brown; 
Those snarling dogs no match 
For hooves that thundered down.

The dogs lay scattered round;
The roaring crowd was awed;
But then demanded more:
A second pack was called.

The horse, insane with fear,
Exhausted, fought to live;
The dogs were fresh, but he
Should have no more to give.

His will to live was strong;
The dogs were on his back;
Defeating mastiff jaws,
He tossed and killed that pack. 

The rabble drunk on blood,
Addicted to it then,
Still called for more; the horse 
Was hacked to death by men.


Jack Horne

Nigerian Ninjas

I see their faces on billboards & posters
with democrat's smiles they flatter their figures
they do not paint their mastiff & slavers
The constellations of their idle ideals is missing in their pictures.

I sank back in my sofa, watching my television
pondering on the theme and thrust and tones
of these spies...their lies, vacious postulations
crass and cynical arrogance hidden in their bones.

My heart ran through the lore and lexicons
of these politicians who hide their gloom during campaigns
they win the rugged race through fraud fraught elections
....to become rulers of a people in chains and pains.

Their practice of internal colonialism is a a curse
that has roused the rebels in the oil-rich creek of Niger Delta.
Their major mission and vision is to fill their purse
with the spoils of war...between our welfare and Nigerian ninjas

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