A wet nose cuddle-
Warding from a chill winter:
Teeth naw at an itch
Category Archives: Dog
Greased Pig Terriers Haiku
Lure-driven terriers
Race side by side or solo–
Greased pigs while held
Pitter Patter Feet
Little pitter patter feet
A yip, bark and bite
For every step across the room
Plop on the butt
Eyes lift upward
A whine for attention
All before a canine monkey
Swings from a sleeve
Yanking and killing the fabric
all
the
way
down.
The Weekend of Meet the Breed
Winding down from
Greetings and explanations-
“Come see the AHT!”
“Oh, is this like the Xolo?”
Questions and answers
Passed back and forth.
Only a few people matter
Judges need some education
In matters concerning breed
Conformation-qualifications of
Faults versus acceptable traits.
Correct information is better than falsifications.
The weekend of breed booths
One long showcase of various dogs
Is at long last over
And finally normality
Can resume the broadcast
Of babysitting and reading.
The Backscratcher For An Old Dog
One so old
up to live another day.
Life has many little wonders
Amongst all here today.
A metal back rubber
to remove flaking skin
itchy yet again.
With the grace of a klutz,
feet dance as a fix
is received. Now, if only
this thing called age
didn’t need the scratching.
Dogs Just Sun Bathing
Many dogs sun bathing
Just sitting, relaxing
No interest in bed sharing
Agitated, teeth baring
Whines and cowers
Before pressure lowers
Minutes turn to hours
For these sleeping howlers.
Pies and flying balls
This is another dog poem which goes into what is, I’m sure, most dog people’s least favorite activity, poop pickup. It also talks about playing ball with a ball crazy dog who was put out with me while I was doing the dog yard. This poem is the result of those twenty or so minutes alone with the dog and the shovel. There really isn’t a whole lot for me to say here; I think you’ll get the picture when you read it, so I’ll just give you guys the poem.
Here’s Dog Pies:
Picking up dog pies surrounded by sand, patches of grass Elongated tubes, solid in their form Or crumbly at the slightest touch Pungent smells fill my nose as A body runs full on past as I bend over.
Where’s the lure? Where’s the lure?
As this weekend is a terrier racing event, but I’ve already put up the poem, Terrier Racing, I figured, “This is as good a time as any to put this up.” So here it is:
Lure Coursing Wiggling, driving urges Plastic-like rabbit Many eyes following-fixating Around the track it flies Screams of wanting Lunges to kill it
Let’s hear 3 for the third
Here are three more poems: a (hopefully) uplifting poem, a poem about hippotherapy, and a dog poem. As I have stated in a previous post, take whatever meaning you want from the first one as it is what you, the reader, takes away that matters. I think it is a relatively straightforward poem, but for some that will see it, maybe that won’t be the case. Any questions about it or any other poems here, don’t be afraid to ask :).
A Little Hardship Why be afraid of a little hardship? Eventually everyone dies, becomes disabled Just go with it, Deal with it, Face it, Then, Live life one moment as at a time, to the fullest; And challenge what you thought as true.
Three to Start
Here are the first three poems: dogs, guitars and nonfunctional hands.
Guitar Solid, semi-hollow, hollow bodied Reverberating from within out Projecting sweet noise at a pluck, a strum. Amped, noise picked up and sent on through The head and speaker. Turn of the dials: Clean, smooth, like one savors a truffle Turn again to feel The pulse of distortion, heartbeat that drives the pit. Loose and out of tune or right on standard pitch; Add a pedal, even quite a few: Head off to the stratosphere Off to six feet under. Instrument of Godliness to throngs of fans. A brush that paints dollars for some And art for the rest.
