Sweet Shanana, a golden dog gal,
Is my dogs’ best pal.
Dubbed Shana, in Polish it means “golden hay”,
She’s the delight of her humans each day.
When we meet for all three to play,
She’s silly and obliging, letting my feisty dogs get their way.
‘Til she decides one ball deserves to hide under her leg,
Where she protects it like a penguin hatching an egg!
Oh, how I’d wish my stubborn dogs listened at all,
Yet she bounds happily when her master does call.
Open-hearted and joyful always is she,
That’s the way I wish I could be!
M. Renee Taylor
5-5-2010
youngest progeny Shana Aubrey Harris did need
recipient (thine offspring)
received private lessons to help her lead
a supposed "normal" life,
thus this biological papa did heed
and amenable, lovable, valuable rudiments
of classroom ABC's a challenging deed
for thee lass aye helped beget, yet
a quiet riotous soiree
along information super highway got set
within my imagination
achingly longing to compose a poem
for this righteous dignified dame whose net
whose, incalculable interpersonal worth
voiced melodically ineluctably seduced, sans mirth
and athletic physique
goaded this married father
to attempt some organization awakened image (to be,
or not to be dwelling) within remote hamlet
with rustic cabin crackling hearth
dormant libido (bereft within marriage)
toward some unknown outcome,
yet how grand to parlay pregnant girth
without intent to convey any further details
cuz message of unequivocal charm
minus additional intent for physical interaction
brought joie de vivre deliverance on this Earth.
My family is an old house:
Dad is the fireplace, which keeps us all warm.
Mom is the food, which keeps us all fed.
Paco, the Chihuahua is the television set, which provides us all with entertainment.
Kiki, the cat is the radio in the house, which makes a lot of noise.
My grandfather is the refrigerator, which stores all of our essential needs in life.
My uncle Joe is the propane tank of the house, which stores all the gas needed for the stove.
My Aunt Shana is the door of the house, which lets viewers in.
My uncle Larry is the propane tank filler which feeds the tank the gas needed for the stove.
Lulu, the pug is the carpet of the house, which keeps all of our feet warm
Sweetheart, the pug is the tile floor, which provides us something hard to walk on.
My cousin, Johnathan is the main bedroom, which people look at with awe.
My cousin Eric, is the insulation, which keeps any sound from escaping,
My grandma Eastridge is the walls of the house that keeps it warm.
My Grandpa Eastridge is the shape of the house, which people see first.
I am the foundation and the framework which keeps the house from crumbling
love late,half turn,work
the people demand their food
i just wanted time
Will you be my eve
the one God has made from me
flesh of my flesh
blood of my blood
heaven sent from above
my one and only true love
Alone I lie asleep waiting for god to you to me
I open my eyes to see the most beautiful thing I've known to be
My heart pounds fast my knees get weak
The sight of you makes it hard to speak
So today I'm on one knee asking thee
Will you be my eve
the one God has made from me
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.