Tag Archives: poem about a dog

Out-Joked for SOCS

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BACK GARDEN1

Out-joked

Everyone must know a joker––
plotter, trickster, laugh-provoker
who doesn’t know quite when to stop.
Who needs, in fact, a humor cop
to tell him when he’s done enough––
pulled his ultimate ruse or bluff.

The dribble glass, the rubber poop
placed upon your house’s stoop?
Definitely adolescent
if not actually prepubescent.
Yet still this buffoon thinks he’s funny.
With lists of jokes, he’s over-punny.

Every occasion, every rumor
is met by him with off-base humor.
It’s his role to create sensation
in the most serious conversation.
Exploding cigars, salty gum,
whoopee cushions ‘neath your bum.

No matter how you beg this friend
to bring these antics to their end,
he never seems to listen to
what he’s requested to “not” do.
so when he streaked my garden party,
elegant, refined and arty,

he finally found himself undone
when he’d half-completed his naked run.
Dear friend, when you chose where you stepped,
you should have veered or should have leapt.
When he replaced your rubber poo,
my dog just pulled a joke on you!

 

The SOCS prompt is “Joke.”

Elefante

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Elefante

In spite of the excrescence on my spaniel’s snout,
he seems to have no problem in sniffing danger out.

When he has an inkling that a cougar or a bear
is within a mile of us, his nose extraordinaire

indicates a warning with a sniff and then a snort,
signaling that it would be a good time to abort

previous plans in order for me to begin musing
about a route more suitable for less dangerous cruising.

He’s a canine Dustin Hoffman or a man’s best friend Durante,
so excessive in proboscis that I’ve named him “Elefante.”

A prince of nasal warning, he’s the hero of my life,
so I’d never dream of yielding him to the surgeon’s knife,

for unlike other species, dogs are not subject to vanity—
another indication of the extent of their sanity.

 

Prompt words today are *excrescence, dangerous, musing, inkling, prince and responsible. *An excrescence is a distinct outgrowth on a human or animal body or on a plant, especially one that is the result of disease or abnormality. As you might have guessed, “elefante” is Spanish for elephant. Image from Unsplash.

Birthday Heist

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Birthday Heist

The rumors are untrue. He is a scurrilous liar.
I did not steal the birthday cake. I did not start the fire.

My serenity is not a ruse. I’m innocent of error.
I swear I had no hand in your recent birthday terror.

The dog has done his utmost to brand me as the thief,
but the fool is barely lucid. Could you not see his relief

when you started to upbraid me as he chased me, headed south,
crumbs falling from his chest hair, frosting around his mouth?

Oh that I knew your language and I could tell you that,
but instead, for ever after, you’ll be blaming “that damn cat!!”

Evidence of an earlier crime: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvtfDaBi8XE

Prompt words today are liars, lucid, scurrilous, utmost and serenity.

In His Dreams

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In His Dreams

I listen to his sad refrain.
Won’t I please throw the ball again?
The fright that I will not comply
is reflected in each eye.
They vilify and then they plead.
Throwing’s a must, not just a need.

As I accept the ball and throw,
long and hard and sure and low,
his retrieval skills are so efficient,
a dozen lofts are not sufficient.
He gives a snort, is here, then there
to catch the ball while in the air.

This small tangled ball of hair
curled up on the bottom stair—
I know he’s dreaming when I hear his yip,
see running legs, a sudden dip
of jaw that signals his success.
He’s caught the ball I threw, I guess.

His need to fetch so strong and deep,
I’m sure he does it in his sleep.
I wonder if I fully stand
within his dream, or is a hand
the only evidence at all
of one who throws the yearned-for ball?

 

Prompts for today are fright, vilify, snort, refrain and sleep.

Dog Smarts

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Dog Smarts

My dog is a rapscallion, ingenious and quick.
I rarely have an ice cream where he doesn’t steal a lick.
Every time I think that It’s not happening this time,
he gets the better of me with his little mime.

First he feigns indifference so I’m caught off my guard,
and then in a mere second, he’s running through the yard,
my cone extending from his jaws as though he is a bird.
So rapid that to try to run and catch him is absurd.

But in my desperation, I do so anyway.
I aimed to teach a lesson that crime doesn’t pay,
so I bought another cone–my second one today,
and took him on a walk with me, licking all the way.

I wouldn’t look the other way. I wouldn’t get distracted.
The seizure of my ice cream cone would not be reenacted!
It was my dog who got distracted  by a small dog with a bone.
By the time that I caught up with him, the other dog lay prone

with my dog above him, thinking that he alone
should have it, so you guessed it, I offered him my cone!
And so my efforts foiled again, I resorted to barter,
demonstrating once again, my canine friend is smarter.

Prompt words today are rapscallion, ingenious, desperation and rapid.

As Her Majesty Ordains

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As Her Majesty Ordains

An extraordinary show pooch, she was top dog in her class.
Her coat was long and silky and glittered like fine glass.
Her canine teeth were pearly, her tail a lovely plume.
Every eye turned toward her when she walked into a room.

Her master, pumped-up in his pride, gloried in her fame.
Every judge in every show knew her fabled name.
At shows he closely guarded her from every dog she met.
Never took her walking, lest her feet get wet.

Not once had she chased a ball, a rabbit or a stick.
She couldn’t jump in leaves for her coat was just too thick.
Her master feared she’d sully it and he would be the one
who’d pay with time spent grooming her if she had some fun.

But the neighbor was her savior when her master was away,
for he would come into her yard and they would run and play.
Fetching sticks and playing tug-rope and racing through the yard,
she could simply be a doggie and let down her royal guard.

But one day her master came home in the middle of the morning
and caught them in their playtime with nary a pre-warning.
He promptly whistled for his dog to bring it to an end,
casting a baleful look at his pet’s clandestine friend.

But her highness did not deign to come, in spite of all her training.
No matter what her master did, she ended up remaining
close to her only playmate–hoping the yells would end,
but instead her master fumed and shouted at her only friend.

“You hogamadog? I going to steal your cat one day!”
(Did I reveal he was Italian? You know they talk that way.)
And did I say the neighbor had a cat? He did, you know, of course.
(Sometimes when I talk, the cart goes on before the horse.)

But the whole thing ended happily. The neighbor pled his case
and before the day was over, the dog’s master joined the chase.
The neighbor helped with grooming after they all jumped in leaves,
thereby doing in one of the master’s former peeves.

Did I introduce the owner? His first name was Giuseppe.
Oscar was the neighbor, both duplicitous and peppy.
Duchess was the given name of the illustrious bitch
who improved her retrieval once her master learned to pitch.

 

Prompt words for the day are pearl, fumes, hogamadog and glitter.

Testing Fido

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Testing Fido

This test is good in ascertaining
if your dog recalls his training
and, further, it is meant to see
the extent of his fidelity.
In a fire or in a quake,
what action is he bound to take?
Will he quiver, cower and shake,
lose his head and run or quake
or will adrenalin make him faster
to locate and to save his master?
I do not wish to amplify
where your canine’s faults might lie,
but in times of peril he must
justify his master’s trust.
Just leave a burger in a pan
to start a fire if you can.
Feign sleep and see if he reacts
by waking you or if he acts
in his own interest first, and eats
the burger before he retreats
to give you ample time and warning
to view the damage before morning!
Will frenzy beat out appetite?
Or will Fido choose to bite 
the burger, and the hand that feeds him,
forsaking the one who needs him?

 

I know this is a horrible poem, but for once the prompts defeated me. I was going to junk it, but will post it as testimony to the fact I tried. Sort of. Prompt words today were ascertain, fidelity, amplify and frenzy.

Entreaty: NaPoWriMo 2019, Apr 17

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Entreaty

I lie obscured behind a pot.
The pot is dry, but I am not.
Thanks to an active little doggy,
my usual state is chewed and soggy.
But, I should introduce y’all
to who I am—a small green ball.
And though I’m meant to just play tennis,
I fear I face a greater menace.

The antagonist of my sad story
is a Scottie dog named Morrie,
and though all humans find him cute,
his proclaimed merits I’ll refute.
If you’ll forgive a bit of kvetching,
I will explain—he’s fond of fetching.
Hour on hour, day after day,
he makes humans cast me away.

He  likes to fetch and chew and drool,
then toss me back into the pool
for whomever happens to be
taking a swim to rescue me
and throw me back down in the yard
so that hairy little card
can race back down to find where I
have been tossed down to and now lie.

I was once pristine—so green and soft—
perfectly planned for bounce and loft,
my lifetime planned and guaranteed
until she broke my seal and freed
me to what I was sure would be
the perfect gaming life for me.
But soon I was given pause
when I was seized between the jaws

of a leaping frenzied pup
who promptly tried to chew me up
and failing this, launched me into
the swimming pool’s warm watery blue.
I’ve lasted, now, three days or four.
It’s doubtful I can last for more.
For after days of constant chewing,
A ball’s not fit for sport or viewing.

Seams split and release air,
sink in the pool and languish there.
The only hope for my abiding
is if I can stay in hiding.
Please don’t reveal my little lair.
Help me preserve my seams and air.
For I will surely lose my bounce
if I’m exposed to one more pounce,

to one more bite or one more chew.
Please save my life. I’m begging you.
If you would simply pick me up
before I’m found by that damn pup,
and throw me over that far wall,
no one would know of it at all.
Perhaps some tennis buff would meet
me lying there upon the street.

He’d pick me up and take me where
I could be sailing through the air
racket to racket—kiss by kiss,
for surely I was made for this!!!
I’ve done my penance, served my time.
I’ve earned a life that’s more sublime.
So hear my plea and heed my call.
Bend down, pick up and throw the ball!!!

 

 

The NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem from an unusual point of view.

 

Underdog

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IMG_7279

Cat Woman’s sexy. Batman’s svelt
in cape and leotard and belt.
Superman in colors bright,
looks dashing flying in to fight.
But Underdog’s a lesser sort.
Sorta puny, sorta short.
His uniform? He doesn’t care.
He’s happy in his underwear.

For alternate photos for this prompt, go HERE. The prompt today is underdog.

Accident

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The Prompt: Tell us about a time you should have stopped and helped someone but didn’t.

DSC07911Accident

When I rise at seven to let her out,
she’s in a hurry, without a doubt,
for I see only a streaking blur––
a tip of tail and whirr of fur.
As she rushes out to pee,
the shame is not on her, but me.
I heard her bark an hour ago,
but it was only seven and so
I thought I’d just go back to sleep
and she made no further peep.

Now I see the pile upon the floor
just inside the open door
held as long as she was able,
then hidden underneath the table.
Not the first time in twelve years
that she’s caught me in arrears
in opening doors to let her out,
yet it is true without a doubt
that she has never erred before
and made a mess upon the floor.

I know that she is feeling shame,
even though she’s not to blame.
For once she is not under feet
as I prepare something to eat;
and when I call, she does not come.
She’s in the garden, feeling glum.
She feels she’s done a shameful act
devoid of training, breeding, tact.
She does not know that I’m the one
standing here with smoking gun.

Every bit of blame is mine,
for Frida’s former record is fine.
For twelve long years, she never peed
upon the roof in time of need
even when we didn’t know
she was locked up there and so
there is no need to hang her head
in shame of what she’s done, and dread
of being scolded or being blamed.
I am the one who should be shamed!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sorry-im-busy/