CANINE KING
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was a dachshund extraordinaire,
a canine king with a luxurious coat most fair.
He ruled our neighborhood with nary a care,
his tail wagging wildly, his ears flapping in the air.
His little legs moved swiftly,
patrolling the streets quite deftly.
He sniffed and snuffled with a curious mind,
chasing the squirrels with harmless malign.
He barked at strangers with a fearless din,
growling and showing his teeth like a sharp mandolin.
He ruled the streets with an iron paw,
protecting and serving with his loving, doxie law.
He licked the faces of those he knew,
reigning gently while enjoying his doggie chews.
He was a master of mischief with his charming ways,
nudging with his nose, his way of begging you to stay.
His barks were music to my ears, his wags a delight,
dancing and prancing with a carefree spirit, light.
He was a dachshund extraordinaire,
a neighborhood hero and loving arbiter.
Categories:
snuffled, 12th grade, dog,
Form: Rhyme
The smell of humidor
Charmed the old house and
Frightened me as I ascended the
Narrow stairwell that gentle
October morning.
The song of autumn was playing
Low, and with astute grace.
Silent, the royal smell wafted between Cuba
And Denmark,
Across fat rank grass of fecund roots.
I snuffled through fogs of earliness,
Webbed by clamping cold.
Cigars without smoke took over from the
Humidor and hugged my lungs.
Categories:
snuffled, culture, october, society,
Form: Free verse
Each night after the evening meal
there was never a discussion
as to who would wash the dishes
and who would do the drying up.
My mother was the washer,
my sister and I did the drying up.
Hot steam would rise from the sink
before plates were plunged
deep in foam and scrubbed
with a brush - we would wait,
tea towel in hand to pounce
on the first plates to come out,
rinsed and white -
dishes were easier to dry
than heavy pots
and fiddly knives and forks.
It was a time for talk, for laughs
and sometimes snuffled back tears -
everyday life lived within the space
of our touching elbows.
I can still feel the tea towel
in my hand wet and warm
with those blessed memories.
Seventy years on, I bend down
and load the racks of a dishwasher
with soiled tableware from
the evening meal. Its quiet whirr
will fill the winter silence
and play a soulless ditty when
the washing and drying up
is done.
Categories:
snuffled, memory, mum, sister,
Form: Free verse
Twas the end of year when nights grow dark
And stars twinkle in midnight sky.
The earth was asleep and trees leaflessly slumbered,
Under the hedges sheltered small creatures and birds
While hedgehogs snuffled and dormice dreampt.
Softly it fell without fuss or trumpet,
Covering the ground with soft white blanket.
Stifling the sounds into still and quiet,
Laying on branches weighing them down,
Turning all the world white and brown.
‘Tis then that he comes all a twinkle and shine,
With shining toes and dazzling clothes,
With an icicle dripping from his nose.
Unseen and unheard pirouetting and pose,
Leaping and bowing until all is froze.
Creatures shiver and hold close
As star like, snow glistens and glows
But by mornings light and winter dawn,
He has passed by and gone,
Leaving only, the sound of twinkling toes.
Categories:
snuffled, dance, environment, mystery, seasons,
Form: Lyric
"Are we gonna turn around,"
said the Armadillo to the rat?
Rat just snuffled following its twitching nose
rushing toward the miasma of offal piles,
of excrement and defilement.
"I prefer clean desert air,' said the Armadillo,
this stink is overpowering.
"Hungry" squeaked the thin rat.
'Yes hungry also" the armadillo agreed
but the stench of feted air
was becoming unbearable to him.
After several miles they reached the town limits.
Tent cities spread inward like a river of trash. Paths
of degradations and endless skid-rows
lay before them.
Armadillo stood stone still, appalled,
rat licked his trembling muzzle
a thin saliva dripped from his crusted lips.
"hungry" he muttered, racing onward.
Armadillo shrugged, turned about
to find a few wholesome ants under
some rotting wood.
Categories:
snuffled, poetry,
Form: Free verse
He was a foul mouthed fellow from Falmouth
Who spouted and spewed some sewage - like slime
'Til he met a maiden who made a new man
And taught this rodent ridden rummy to rhyme
He piddled and puddled and peeled off a poem
Then sniffled and snuffled and sensed out a sonnet
He metered and teetered and tested a Tanka -
The maiden smiled and tipped him her bonnet
Soon the Queen quoted quips from his efforts
Said his musings were meant for the mellow
He grinned and penned a fabulous Footle
He was no more just a foul mouthed fellow
1-11-20
Contest: Twist My Tongue
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Categories:
snuffled, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
From streak and blur of candle faint
Her whispered breath gasps through dim hall--
That longing haunts without restraint
When a presence twirls come midnight:
Gently, gently she advances
Yet tapered wax fades…bleak the loft
And she aches for snuffled chances;
To meet him …in world’s afterlife.
..........
05/08/2019
Free Verse or Rhyme Contest of Eve Roper
Pic #2
Categories:
snuffled, for him, light, longing,
Form: Rhyme
My happy feet tried to catch up with his pace
Appetizing smells swirling out of street cafes
Chattering crowd bumping in to us in void
Almost missing me trying to cross
Holding his hand as tight as I could
My red shoes almost jingled as I soared the tiled floor
Chattering faces coming and go
Was this a dream or a nightmare I tried to solve
A little wet kitten shivering by the barber’s door
I let go off his supporting hand and swiftly dissolve
It was too late when I knew I was by my own
Looking up and down the street just brought me terror
The little kitty and me were both greatly ignored
By people rushing to somewhere perhaps more of worth
I cried and he meowed a very loud song
We cuddled and snuffled as sky changed color and the stars rose
The barber closing his shop, noticed us both
tossed a penny where we had desperately parked
He came closer and I think that’s when he saw
We were no beggars but rather much lost
My daddy was called in and took me home safe
I had a new friend, I called him “Mr. Snuggle”
Feb 2, 2016
Categories:
snuffled, lost,
Form: Free verse
.
Out in the bushland, no street lights around
No sheltering tent, we lay on the ground
Close by a green pool and Kurrajong tree
Alone by ourselves, just Willow and me
The bushland at night is dark as black tar
A million bright twinkles, each one a star
The moon, just a sliver, riding up high
No clouds to obscure, and rain a far cry
Way off in the distance low eerie moans
Raised hairs on my neck, a chill in my bones
But Willow just snuffled, curled in a ball
No fright in her hackles, no fear at all
Slow dying embers, a lone dingo’s cry
A night in the bushland under the sky
Categories:
snuffled, nature, peace, night, night,
Form: Sonnet