I like it. My dog’s name is Daisy. I feel like you were channeling us. Thank you.
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Tomorrow
My love for dogs is so great,
my heart melts for it 'til the dusk of day.
The night hunts when it’s away,
loves, sleeps 'til day’s dawn.
Its beauty is great,
Wondering mind 'til it sees,
resting is all I do,
While waiting for the moment, for it to say “I do.”
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Sleep
Laying there half gone, half not
look off into the unknown
laughter from behind
Vision of the virgin white
vexing questions of truth or lie
visited by the all knowing
Movement from the darkest corner
mixing though with reality
music, sweet music through the night
Sometimes when you think
sinking, slowly sinking down
soon before you realize
Slowely, ever so slowly
thoughts have turned to dreams . . …
Snow96 written 1989. published 1992 Artwork for poem by a (famous to me) artist. (not under snow96, but my real name)
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What the heck one more
Mondays
Tossing and turning,
rolling and churning,
alarm clock ringing in your ears.
Fall to the floor,
stubbed toe on a door,
burnt toast from a toaster.
Out of gas,
starting to rain,
late for work again.
Paperwork lost,
boss starts yelling,
why, it must be Monday!
Snow96 written 1991, unpublished. artwork accompanying by the same (famous to me) artist.
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Oh, happy morning,
A shaggy, howling dog climbs
A tree for chew toys.
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Ode to the Dog
My feisty dog, you inspire me to write.
I love the way you bark, cuddle and run,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the friendly dun.
Let me compare you to a sweet buffoon?
You are more loyal, protective and soft.
Forte sun heats the earnest peaches of June,
And summertime has the unfriendly croft.
How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love your loyal tail, teeth and eyes.
Thinking of your sternest teeth fills my days.
My love for you is the royal devise.
Now I must away with an aloft heart,
Remember my meet words whilst we’re apart.
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Hi Dog
My dog is the best dog,
So I look at him and say hi.
He lies there like a log,
And wags his tail like a sigh.
My dog is the best cat,
That anyone could ever own.
He never does what I ask,
And I’m sorry that didn’t rhyme.
But when I come home, tired, with liver,
He jumps right up, lips aquiver,
And barks and howls and claws and yips,
Until the meat has reached his lips.
My dog likes to chase the young,
When I let him out to roam.
In those times I enjoy the quiet,
In my waterproof triangular home.
Sometimes my dog is gone for weeks,
And I have no clue where he goes.
Once he returned home with a beak,
Of a large bird and I said, “Oh noes.”
But other than that, he’s a good fella,
Who barks when I play George Strait,
And growls when I play NWA with Yella,
It might behis most reliable trait.
My dog is the best dog,
So I look at him and say hi.
I will love him forever and ever,
At least until the day he kills somebody.
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Ode to Dead Roses
By Lulubee
In the fading light
of fall days
Roses flop over
like so many dog’s ears.
I await
January’s thaw
when the roses will again stand tall
like dog’s ears on a hunt.
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Splish, splash, I was takin’ a bath
Long about a Saturday night, yeah
A rub dub, just relaxin’ in the tub
Thinkin’ everythin’ was alright
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These are lyrics to a song that I like…but it’s poetic.
What if I’m wrong, what if I’ve lied
What if I’ve dragged you here to my own dark night
And what if I know, what if I see
There is a crack run right down the front of me
What if they’re right, what if we’re wrong
What if I’ve lured you here with a siren song
But if I be wrong, if I be right Let me be here with you tonight
Ten thousand cars, ten thousand trains
There are ten thousand roads to run away
But I am not lost, I am not found
I am not Dylan’s wife, not Cohen’s hound
But if I be wrong, if I be right
Let me be here with you tonight
And what if I can’t, what if I can
What if I’m just an ordinary man
If there is a will, there is a way
I will escape for sure, I am David Blane
But if I be wrong, if I be right
Let me be here with you If I be wrong, if I be right
Let me stay here in your arms tonight
And I have been wrong, I have been right I have been both these things all in the same night
So if I be wrong, if I be right Let me here with you tonight
One of my favorite works from Tennyson:
Ulysses
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro’ scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour’d of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro’ soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
’Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
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Very nice. Thanks Flame.
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My favorite dog poem.
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Okay, love dog poems. Here’s a wonderful 18th Century cat poem by Kit Smart.
from Jubilate Agno
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having consider’d God and himself he will consider his neighbour.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day’s work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he’s a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.
For every family had one cat at least in the bag.
For the English Cats are the best in Europe.
For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.
For the dexterity of his defence is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For he is of the Lord’s poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually—Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better.
For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.
For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.
For he is docile and can learn certain things.
For he can set up with gravity which is patience upon approbation.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master’s bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection.
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Ichneumon-rat very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God’s light about him both wax and fire.
For the Electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.
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Oh marg. I am literally sitting on the floor right now, petting my dying cat, waiting for the vet to get here to help her along. My heart is in pieces.
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One week ago.
My heart is still in pieces.
Still don’t know how you managed to post that poem at that moment.
I love it.
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This thread was a real joy to read.
Thank you to everyone who shared.
I’ll see if I have anything that I’ve written in the past that I can share.
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I don’t like poems, but these are nice, so good work.
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