Stirring Dog Leader
Schnauzer
Rouser
Clothing shop for Schnauzers
Schnauzers’
Trousers
Internet for Schnauzers
Schnauzers’
Browsers
A German Spotted
Leopard
Shepherd
Aussie Attacked by Pepper Spray
Peppered
Shepherd
Aug. 23, 2022
For A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Categories:
rouser, dog,
Form: Footle
A story about my Sylvester,
Should yield a booster,
Every honest sentence defying a duster
His preferred designation, “A father” not Master.
Thirty-five years in an office
That smelt of telephone and letter
But he wouldn’t telephone the police,
Relationships patching up for better
My own Sylvester
Never bowed to any harvester,
Himself, a green finger,
Whose farm jobs didn’t linger.
My own Sylvester
Would rather he chose polyester
In lieu of Esther
Or Augusta,
The unlikeliest womanizer
And as unlikelier rabble rouser.
My own Sylvester
Would’ve accepted a multitude’s lord
And just ended up a landlord,
Which little dropped him he might hoard
For infrequently paid rent
By tenants, on money matters, no Gent.
My own Sylvester
Had sought to be a star
But rather won its scar,
Which one could still celebrate in a bar
Over his uncertainty I pine
On his being nearly Eighty Nine.
Sorry for losing your wife twenty four years ago
On 19th Nov. 1997, letting go.
Categories:
rouser, caregiving, celebrity, character, father,
Form: Rhyme
As a Storm Rages Past
Rabble rouser, a spring storm lets out a golden shaft
that pierces through the sky and with a loud clash,
rousing me from peaceful slumber, shatters the night.
The house heaves and sighs a powerless response
but I fear no storm, dread no tempest, and defiant
I clamor inside: ‘Let my heart sleep storm, sad flames
you will no longer stoke!’ Nothing though will still the
unsettling rumble that thunders now deep within
the cavern of my mind for a ghost I clasp and tuneless
it sings of love. But then I hear music’s many strings
pulling at my heart that rejoices knowing it may
no longer fly high on the wings of love but it will
drink from melodies that peace and joy bring.
So scat storm!
Your time is done!
And I hear its low rumble as it gently growls away.<>
Categories:
rouser, feelings, storm,
Form: Free verse
At the risk of being called “rabble-rouser,”
I think poor old Barky Von Schnauzer,
should practice his aim,
his master to maim,
in the back end of his very best trousers!
My hero I would call dear old Barky,
if he could just muster the stealth of a sharky,
and covertly steer,
right straight for the rear,
of that great big old bag of malarkey!
I think I should send Barky a big four leaf clover,
so his bad luck would finally be over,
he could retire his fame,
move away, change his name,
to Bowser maybe Lassie or Rover!
Obviously I have been driven completely insane by that stupid t.v. commercial!
Happy St. Paddy's Day!
Categories:
rouser, angst, animals, funny, pets,
Form: Limerick