Pets Prose Poems | Examples

These Pets Prose poems are examples of Prose poems about Pets. These are the best examples of Prose Pets poems written by international poets.


Premium Memberpets are at our mercy

pets are at our mercy
whether they become parents
it is not their decision
we had our male dog fixed today
we have had a lot of dogs fixed
maybe it is because of my age
but I felt guilty about this one
taking his choices away
I do not remember feeling this way before
He is a gorgeous dog,
but he has been humping everything
and he has wandered pretty far from home
there is no telling how far he would walk for the right female
I cannot lose him
I love him
he is my baby


Premium Membernot ready for the astral visitor

astral visitor
spies the pets first
dogs begin to growl
cat screeches and runs

sleepy sister wakes up
thinks she is dreaming
goes back to sleep

she is not ready yet
to see beyond the veil
she may never be
her sister floats away

Premium MemberLilys Mama Never Let Her Have a Pet

Lily’s mama never let her have a pet
unless you count a sad dog who was chained to a dog house
his entire twelve years of non-life
I do not count that and neither did Lily.

Lily had to wait twenty-two years to get her own place
so she could get a pet
but one pet was not enough
she had been deprived a pet for twenty-two years.
She soon had six pets, and was open about getting others

Her mother never came to visit her.
Another perk.
Her father did, but he too had always wanted a pet.
Now he could come to Lily’s house and enjoy hers.

Premium MemberMorganas Vow

nasty invaders from the east had been treacherous and mean
They burned Morgana’s village, her people, pets and home
She had not returned from another battle until it was over
Noting that bloodshed had been spilled in all directions

Morgana vowed to hunt them down and eradicate them
there was no one left to talk her out of the plan
she picked up her bow and arrows and began the hunt
the murderous marauders had no idea what kind of hell was coming

Premium MemberA Pack Of Six

A group of animals very close to a strawberry farm was spotted by a female fairy, one early evening.  She was delighted for seeing, hearing six different animals talking to each other again.

  The cat said to the leveret, "Meoww..."

  The leveret nodded while watching and listening to everybody in the group.  

  The third animal, a chimp, laughed out loud for showing his new discovery -- a big, orange-colored watermelon.

  The fourth animal, a squirrel, was amazed by the strength of the chimpanzee --  clapped and praised the chimp.

  The fifth animal, a male woodpecker, telling everyone that he'll always look for food each day for all of them.  They only need to help him get the food for them.

  The fairy noticed that the sixth animal, a chipmunk, is weeping... the other five animals noticed it too.

  The chipmunk was asked by the leveret, "Why are you crying?..."

  The chipmunk replied, "We will be scolded again.  This is the third time the chimp stole a watermelon from the same old farmer!"

(The fairy knows it's a pumpkin that was brought by the chimp this time, not a watermelon.)


Premium MemberA Day In the Life - Act 5

Fleas, ticks, and parasites are the bane of pets and pet owners.  They require medications.  It is a well know veterinary fact that to administer medications to a dog is simple: “wrap it in bacon and toss it to the dog”.  Cats, however, are much more medication savvy and resist the idea that descendants of Cleopatra’s litters need any.  Thus, the dilemma, send the cat back to Pharaoh or battle the ferocious Fang and Claw Master.  He assembles the towels, the eye droppers, the welding gloves, sends out a prayer request, and proceeds.  To date he believes he has been successful as the cat is still stalking the neighborhood.  He understands the cat as he will take no medication “willingly” and is a complete “joy” when visiting his doctor's offices.  He also understands the dog as he too loves bacon.

John G. Lawless
©4/29/2023

Premium MemberA Day In the Life Act 3 and 4

Act Three - the nap 

Naptime was uneventful.  The girls didn’t show up.  The dog snores.  He drools.  The pillowcase is a brownish, water stained, Picasso-esque masterpiece.

Act Four - table for three 

Dogs are omnivorous, they will eat anything that hits the floor.  The cat is more selective.  It will use a single claw to remind him of its likes and dislikes.  If it is rare steak the cat will use several claws and a paw to guide his hand from plate to gaping maw.  The dog will pretend it is sleeping and drool in anticipation.  If he opens a can of tuna he believes that the cat will have an ****** as it claws his leg.  The three of them eat a highly protein(aka-meat)-centric diet.

John G. Lawless
©4/28/2023

Premium MemberA Day In the Life - Act One

The sex had been amazing.  The women mysteries.  The alarm a mood breaker.  He awoke!  Stared at the ceiling, counted the slats in the blinds, scratched himself, sat up on the edge of the bed.  On the way to the bathroom he farted.  No one complained.  The seat was always up.  No one complained.  The memory of his erotic dream had faded.  He ate another bowl of “Heart Healthy Honey Nut Cheerios”.  They’re shaped like little hearts, a marketing ploy he figured.  The dog looked at him.  He wasn’t sure how he wound up with the dog.  Maybe the kids gave it to him so he’d have a reason to go walking in the rain.  They shared a simple life.  They ate, slept, watched TV, and walked in the rain.  He cleaned up after the dog, the dog waited outside the bathroom door for him.  The cat was a mobile figurine that s**t indoors.  The dog would watch him drink his coffee.  The cat would ignore them both.  The TV weather girl would keep him reflecting on that dream.  He would shower later.

John G. Lawless
©4/26/2023

Premium MemberFour Cafes - Nfc

Outside the four cafes, four dogs awaited their caffeine crazed owners.  Sniffing different street signs, taking inventory of who’d already been there.  Four dog “owners” exited the cafés.  A tall blonde, possibly bleached, retrieved the dog and haughtily gazed at the “other” cafes and dogs. A slightly rumpled donut muncher hurriedly hustled away with a slightly rumpled mutt. A lithe and limber, skin tight yoga panted Latte carrier, glided away.  The dog, nose high, sniffed nothing.  A rather large flannel shirt exited café number four, the dog nuzzled its owner.  It’s reward, a hearty greeting and vigorous petting.
	Shortly thereafter they all met at the dog park, the dogs that is.  The owners took their places.  One sat silently engrossed in a book.  One talked loudly into a cell phone.  One primped and posed while taking “selfies”.  One watched and laughed at the antics of the dogs.
	As they left the dog park the cups told a story.  One was left on a bench, one tossed on the ground, one rinsed and filled with water so the dog might have a drink, and one placed in the recycle barrel.  

John G. Lawless
©3/3/2023

My Moxie

There's a ball on the ground, and I think
I should grab that for Moxie.
Dog food is on sale, and my cart is
halfway down the aisle
before I remember.

Evening comes. Our dog park time.
But there is no retriever
clamoring to go.
Squirrels caper on the fence,
teasing, teasing,
but he's not there to see 

He's been gone for a long time,
but he lives still in my heart, 
his image so vivid that, even now,
I can't fully comprehend that
my beautiful golden dog
is gone forever.

I must be content that he rests now
on a hill overlooking fields
he loved to explore.

As for me, I seem to have lost my moxie
when I lost my Moxie.

Premium MemberA Friend For Sorrow

When I am sad my pets give me comfort, and some of my friends.
Not the ones who are too sympathetic. I cannot hear them right now.
They tend to say the things that make me feel worse.

When I am grieving I have to wail and scream and keen for a while.
Then I sleep under an electric blanket, sometimes with sleeping pills.
If I can stand to refocus myself, I get out my paints and my brushes.

Painting a canvas, writing a poem, and funny movies help me get over it.
I call one friend I trust and ask her not to talk, only to listen.
She is the only person I know who can do this. I tell her everything.

She can listen and listen and listen, without giving me any feedback.
This gives me almost as much comfort as snuggling with my pets.
I feel respected and listened to, but she does not say the wrong thing.
She knows to not speak at all. Everyone needs a friend like this for sorrow.

Premium MemberNothing Unusual About My Pets

Nothing unusual about my pets he told me.
I wondered about this as I stared at Germany. 
Germany, his lab, had an abnormal right eyeball.
It seemed twice as large as the other one,
and it was milked over.

Did anything odd ever happen to Germany? 
I asked Oliver.
Oliver is twelve, and nonchalant about everything.
Not really, he said.
He’s perfectly normal except he got hit by lightning 
a couple of times and he is blind in one eye.

What about your cat, Loki, I asked him.
Anything unusual about her?
No. She is perfectly normal except she wants clothes.
Does she wear them?
No. She eats them. 
As I watch her devour a pair of panties I think “there is nothing to see here.”

Premium MemberMischief Lotus, Is His Name

Mischief Lotus, Is His Name



He has this beautiful coat of fur,
solid black is his color. 

This little rescue cat had come to me,
at such a young age.

He was just 5 weeks old, my best friend that I got.  

A bond, I never felt before, 
a little furry friend, 
he's knocking at my door. 

He is 3 years old now,
a complete pleasure to me. 

Well, he can box, standing on his hind legs.

He's my little furry friend, 
I taught him to play. 

Then we go to sleep at night,
he lays on his pillow, next to me. 

We hold hands to paws,
we drift off to sleep. 

He is my rescue cat, he has his forever keep.



Dedicated to: Mischief Lotus 
7/13/2020 12:50:00 AM

Premium MemberChilly Day At the Park

The sun came out but hid its heat;
While the wind remained at rest,
The chill kept moving about.

The array of trees—leafless
And leafy—stood as still as death;
Little children played mid-winter games.

Two old men sat at a park table;
Seriously they played their chess game.

On a nearby bench, a young man
Stretched out—covered with a sign:
“I’m homeless.  Please let me sleep.”

People merrily walked by;
Pets led or gaily followed behind:
It was just another chilly day at the park.

Insecurity

She is dear as she lies on the bed,
Given away – gray – clinging to someone new.
Someone new, reticent, afraid to be given away – again!
Not knowing the love in the heart of one who is also afraid
To lose her to have her recaptured for a mind changed.

She fluffs and peeks at me – my discovered little dog and I,
Given away needlessly by those who couldn’t bother,
Chased, caught, loved and treasured, not knowing her worth,
A ball of fluff to hold, always uneasy, passed around,
Like people little dogs with loyalty and heart to hold.

Her eyes deep, quizzical, wondering.

Longing to stay, never to leave.

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