He Was More than a Dog to Me
My dog Bosky
When small
Looked very chubby
Had a big
Burly body
Black coat shining
Long tail wagging
Ready to pounce
On anybody
Intruding
Old and young
Would fear
Very sight of his
Would know
From a distance
If I was coming
Started barking
Moved in the garden
With tremendous
Anxiety
Followed my commands
With full sincerity
At times behaved
Naughty
Won’t listen to me
Ran here and there
Asking me
To play with him
Slept near my bed
Throughout his life
In thick and thin
Always with me
More than a friend
Was a part of the family
Guarded the house
With full responsibility
Sickness brought
Silence to him
Made me look
Helpless and weak
The day he died
It was raining
As if even god was
Crying
Always remains
In my memory
Eyes become watery
When I think of him
He was more than a
Dog to me
(In memory of my pet dog Bosky)
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Related quotes
Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House
The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.
The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,
and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.
When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton
while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.
poem by Billy Collins
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Making Love With Memories
You poked my blurring eye,
Let me lift your mushy breast.
We aged onwards
While you stroked flaccidity –
Recalling decades of
Blood-gorged coming, shuddering to boot.
I kissed a venerable mouth
Crammed with falsities –
Once brilliant keys
Guarded by crimson lips
Washed by a sensual tongue.
And so we writhed in wrinkles,
Tiring effort, and
Memories.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Until we meet again
I will not let my hand let go your hand.
How little time together here remains:
Dear sister- looking old, frail, and confused-
lost somewhere in Morpheus’ gentle dreams.
The taxi that I called is downstairs waiting,
and shortly I must tear myself away
Knowing that our parting will be final-
We will not meet again till Judgment day.
We started out Depression era babies
When we were young we slept in the same bed
We had little, except each other, sister
but I would want for nothing else instead.
We’ve lived full lives and counted up our loses:
Your husband gone, my youngest in her grave.
It seems to me that we have come full circle
Hard times crash against us like a wave.
Our parents long since gone, their time receding.
Faded photographs behind a frame
When we are gone who then will remember
their lives, their love, their faces or their names.
I take a last long glance to save the memory
Embrace you in a gentle hug, then part
and if I can’t abide with you forever
Live forever young in this old heart.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Special Memories
My memories are special for they leave a good feeling for me
Some just a day, a sight, a voice, an experience; you see.
They have made my life bountiful and beautiful and ever so much more
A singular memory to display an earthly journey with each an open door.
Just one memory could elicit a dialogue of meaning and feeling
To open up my humanity for a full life that was revealing.
So much has been given to us as part of our earthly treasure
The spiritual and the material; and most importanly, also nature.
Important things about life in my memory and all the rest
Seperate from our being and are the very best.
Most of these things took but a minute and others more than a day
Some like love have lasted a lifetime; along memories way.
That which caused fear, pain, sorrow or regret
To find their own repose or disappear; which would be best? .
I can withdrawn from my memory to view and savor
Very first love; and my best ice cream flavor.
I never have to replace nor even to renew
As my memory is guarded by God's love; just for me and you.
I don't believe I would trade even one memory of mine
For a taste of heavenly bread or a sip of its wine.
I leave you a sample of what I absorbed in this life
Gifts from God and you; and all with very little strife.
12-03-05 Aho Speaks
poem by AHO Speaks
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Crying In The Rain
(coverdale)
A black cat moans
When hes burning with the fever
A stray dog howls
When hes lonely in the night
A woman goes crazy
With the though of retribution
But, a man starts weeping
When hes sick and tired of life
I keep on dreaming dreams of tomorrow
Feel Im wasting my time
Lighting candles in the wind,
Always taking my chances
On the promise of the future
But, a heart full of sorrow
Paints a lonely tapestry
The sun is shining
But, its raining in my heart
No one understands the heartache,
No one feels the pain,
cos no one ever sees the tears
When youre crying in the rain,
When youre crying in the rain,
Crying in the rain...
I can never deny
All the sweet things I have tasted
Tho Ive been mistreated
I keep coming back for more,
I know where Im going
Theres no hope of absolution
I cant seem to separate
The good times from the bad
The sun is shining
But, its raining in my heart
No one understands the heartache,
No one feels the pain,
cos no one ever sees the tears
When youre crying in the rain,
When youre crying in the rain,
When youre crying in the rain,
When youre crying in the rain
The sun is shining
But, its raining in my heart
No one understands the heartache,
No one feels the pain,
cos no one ever sees the tears
When youre crying in the rain,
When youre crying in the rain,
When youre crying in the rain,
When youre crying in the rain
Crying in the rain...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tribute to My Dog
Here lies my dog, motionless in his kennel
unable to wag his tail as he always did.
Yesterday when I saw him, curling helpless on his mat
he still wagged his tail and from him arose
a faint tremolo of love
punctuated by gutturals of pain.
At some bleak hour of the night,
the last ember of life died down
and his supple body turned stiff and stark.
Now he lies straight and majestic in death
leaving a track record of love
far difficult to break,
- a love no vessel can hold
or equated with what we humans feel.
Speechless as I stand, memories churn within.
He came to us - too young to be weaned,
a glossy black puppy with tawny gleaming eyes.
His short, sturdy limbs, large drooping ears,
slender waist and elongated frame
well proclaimed his pedigree aloud
So full of mischief, he capered and hopped,
like a new born calf, always up on his heels.
Sniffing with moist nose, he dug and dug
as if unearthing a treasure trove
buried deep beneath the soil.
With alert vigil, he guarded our home,
barking at strangers and driving rodents away
He expected nothing in turn but love.
His loyalty as we deem was never servile.
Never was he on chains to be hauled like cattle.
He enjoyed sauntering through the courtyard
giving company as we took our evening rounds.
He gloated rubbing his body over our knee
and sat content as our stroking fingers ran all around
Licking our feet and arms,
what he conveyed in inarticulate words
could be deciphered thus -
‘I love you, love you true'
Like the bouncing ball, he often played with
our hearts made to bounce up in love
and our hands fold in benison
for a comrade who departs,
valiant in life and loyal to the core
hoping to meet him anon
on the far green meadows of bliss,
still wagging his tail, avowing a bond
too strong to be snapped or splintered.
poem by Valsa George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Farewell, Chubby
As I make this poem, tears run uncontrollably in my eyes.
For my cousin, who died of leukemia at a very young age of 14.
Farewell, Chubby
As I write this poetry
The nails were hammered right at me
Why would I be
hurt this much?
I never thought that I am really
in this nightmare
this sad story.
And as I write this poetry
I have to be
brave
to face
these sentiments
these emotions
to reveal the pain to all of you
That I am really indenial
and scared
to write these two words but
Farewell, Chubby.
Farewell, Chubby
As I write this poetry
I remembered when I was in Grade Three
You cried and dared to fight
with an invisible enemy
I was hit and run.
That was sweet.
I knew this cousin of mine
really loved me.
Farewell, Chubby
and your little pranks at me
I was having some
business in the bathroom
And you and Joy
banged the door loudly
You laughed so hard
And I pictured in my mind
Colorful hot air balloons
in the patch of blue sky
Farewell, Chubby
That was real Comedy.
Farewell, Chubby
As I write this poetry
I realized how lonely and busy
we became in our own
worlds
and we didn't see that you're
suffering and lonely too
while trying to be in accord
Farewell, Chubby
This Christmas will be sad and gloomy
Because when I will count everyone
who's on the jeepney
I know there's a missing piece left
already.
You would be the one who would
take turns to carry
Vincent or Miyuki
or make them sit on your lap
When they were babies
As we happily
visit
our Godfathers and Goidmothers
and we cheered as they give us
gifts or money
This Christmas will not be so merry
and Farewell, Chubby.
Farewell, Chubby
As I write this poetry
I asked God this query
Was I that coward
that He would not permit me
to be with everybody
and to see them all crying,
sobbing, screaming and weeping?
I am in a faraweay land
I won't cry but
I am all alone
Mourning then disbelieving
My mind won't try
to absorb the bad news
that I got in the morning.
God please save Vinzon!
God, please save Vinzon!
God, PLEASE SAVE VINZON!
He's so young and lively
He's so young and lovely
He's so young and..
'God, please save Vinzon.'
It was around 1am
and I didn't think that
as I closed my eyes
Chubby
would close his
forever.
Farewell, Chubby.
Farewell, Chubby
But not on my last memory
of you
You knocked at the door
along with Tito and your little brother
And I complimented you
You're not plump nor Chubby
anymore
and you're on your way into a handsome and
full-grown man.
But you're still our very own
Chubby.
Farewell, Chubby
I will miss your Chubby smile
and your bubbly
chuckles
and your plump body
And as I write this poetry
I am pushing myself
to be brave constantly
I must face these sad rhymes
of your little story.
These nails will mark us
so greatly
But those were the good memories
So long
We love you
We'll miss you very much and
Farewell, Chubby.
poem by Mary Jesusa Villegas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Tara
My cat Tara
Was sharp swift and full of fun;
A gift from high
In the garden a smoking gun
Ever alert to predators.
Velvet paws in the house
The loveliest cat ever
To grace the family home.
Tara didn't like sudden bangs,
Guy Fawkes shenanigans
She would ban.
She would come to my side
Tail up: purr purr
Trying to tell me her cat news,
A true and faithful friend.
The years rolled on
Her eyes grew dim.
No more quick movements to her stride.
In my heart I knew one day
The vet would say,
There's nothing more I can do for Tara!
She staggered to me one evening
Bade me a cat's goodbye,
Crept to a geranium pot
In a quiet spot on the floor,
Trying to hide her agony
And keep her dignity.
There she died like the warrior she was.
Tara is now at peace
Her memory will never grow old.
poem by Katie Kent
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come As You Are (LP Version)
Come As You Are"
Come, as you are. As you were.
As I want you to be. As a friend.
As a friend. As an old enemy. Take your time.
Hurry up. The choice is yours. Don't be late.
Take a rest. As a friend. As a old memory, memory, memory, memory.
Come. Dowsed in mud. Soaked in bleach.
As I want you to be. As a trend. As a friend.
As an old memory, memory, memory, memory.
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
Memory, memory, memory, memory (don't have a gun).
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun. Memory, memory...
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Responsibility
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
Into my life came responsibility.
Shes got some shakin, kickin, sailin, long blonde hair,
And when I want to get off you know shell take me there.
Im talkin bout ...
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
She fill me up with responsibility.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
She fill me up and let me down, cant you see ...
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons-ibil-ity.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons--responsibility.
Life is full of re ...
Re-re--responsibility.
Life is full of responsibility.
And Im responsible for you and me.
Good lovin messin up my mind,
A chick like this one is so hard to find.
She takes care of everything I need,
And when I want some stuff you know that she takes heed.
Im talkin bout ...
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
She fill me up with responsibility -- yeah.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee,
She fill me up and let me down, cant you see ...
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons-ibil-ity.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons--responsibility.
Life is full of re ...
Re-re--responsibility.
Life is full of responsibility.
And Im responsible as I can be.
Yeah, responsible, responsible baby.
Yeah, responsible.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee.
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-eee.
Responsible, responsible baby.
Im tryin to be responsible, responsible baby ...
... yeah, ayyyy ... yeah ... ayyyy ...
Every day, baby; yes I am, baby; you know I can, baby.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons-ibil-ity.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons--responsibility.
Life is full of re ...
Re-re--responsibility.
Life is full of responsibility.
And Im responsible for you and me.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons-ibil-ity.
Life is full of re ...
Re-spons--responsibility.
Life is full of re ...
Re-re--responsibility.
Life is full of responsibility.
And Im responsible for you and me.
(to fade ...)
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thank You for the Memory
My body tingles as I lay there still feeling your body wrapped around mine
I close my eyes and notice that there is nothing I can do but dream
For you have left me here with nothing but a memory
A memory of what we had what we were
A memory of nothing more at this time nothing to have to look forward to
My heart aches as I open my eyes and turn to see nothing but an empty bed
The scent of you makes me wonder what could have been
It makes me wonder what went so wrong
We had something that could never be replaced and not it has vanished right before my eyes
You think that the memory will be nothing more than a picture
They say “A memory will last a life time”
I say “A memory will only last a life time as long as you can keep it alive inside of your heart”
There is one thing that should be said
Thank You for the memory that will last me a lifetime of joy
~*Tosha*~
poem by Darkness Falls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Honor To Rememeber
Not a day might have been passed
From your memory to be glanced
Such a happy and long union
With a long time wife as companion
I congratulate it in earnest
As it has remained very best
Coming days must be fruitful
As it has been very much successful
Life as such is beautiful
We have everything in plentiful
Only it should be spent with happiness
All the time it must be seen on the face
Days and years have turned into decades
But memory remains fresh and never fades
You are moved with the happy moments
As life was always challenging with movements
When you sit on the bench alone
You feel happy and not lone
It is nice to feel about past life
When everything had been quiet from wife
So rejoice at long and comfortable inning
You have scored all the goals as winning
Nothing remains now to be seen as failure
Life was happy at all the times for very much sure
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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For George...
(In Memory of the Reverend George Potter...)
How do I tell the world you've gone
Old friend, with never a tear,
When we knew each other for ever so long
In the world that spins out there,
For we rubbed along with an easy grace
And you taught me how to pray,
I thought that you'd see me out, old friend,
But death has snatched you away!
I mind when the stage of life was full
And we bent our backs to the toil,
When the days and the nights weren't long enough
And we burned the midnight oil,
When we schemed and dreamed of a better world,
And we played our part throughout,
With what it took, with a wing and a prayer
We saw it all work out!
The years went by and I saw you still
When you called, with that friendly smile,
And a joy it was in those afternoons
When we'd talk a measured mile,
I thought you'd always be there for me,
A friendship forged in steel,
For friends are few when the friend is true,
But the friend in you was real.
But now the shadows have lengthened at
The long, hard end of things,
As I sit in the shaded garden seat
And wait for the pain it brings,
But how do I tell the world you've gone
Old friend, with never a tear,
With my eyes awash at your memory,
As you're laid to rest out there?
21 May 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Child at War!
No bell, No warning, no flare, surrounded!
I see them all, blood in their eyes
I see the innocence deep within
There is no escape, one by one, away we march.
Young at heart, young at mind
We walk small, we talk small
Through the thicket through the river
Act weak, your throat is slit,
Look weak, you see no mercy.
I close my eyes, I see too much
Yesterday, the church hymns, my ABC's
Tomorrow, armed for combat.
Full of innocence, timid at heart
Off we go, but soon to return,
Full of courage, devoid of innocence,
Strong at heart, ready to mime,
Mummy, Daddy please forgive me!
poem by Macwolls Kay
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On The Day That Pudsy Died
A cold fog from the mountain stole across the countryside
And cloaked the fields in greyness on the day that Pudsy died
She had survived many life's battles and she did not die easily
Like her I too must go the way of time whenever that will be.
Our dark brown cattle dog Pudsy to us devoted to the end
All of our family grieved for her she was a family friend
We buried her by our old home beside the cypress tree
And despite the passing of the years she lives in my memory.
More of a hunting than a cattle dog for fox and badger she went to ground
And she was the best fighting dog for miles and miles around
When challenged by another dog Pudsy never backed away
Though she never did start a fight that much of her one can say.
I watched her fighting many times and never see her beat
she was the champion fighting dog on our side of Millstreet
As a watchdog or a guard dog on her one could not depend
For Pudsy did love people she was everybody's friend.
A hairy rugged outdoor dog she did not mind it wet and cold
She even slept out in the rain though time had left her old
As an outdoor dog she lived and died and of her I can say
That she enjoyed the outdoor sort of life in her own happy way.
A cold fog stole down from the hill and cloaked the fields in gray
On the day our dark brown cattle dog old Pudsy passed away
Until the moment that she died as our friend she did remain
And often times in my memory I hunt with her again.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trvelling down the memory lane
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all black 'n white.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all lacking light.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not eye filled with tears.
Travelling down the memory lane
brings fresh and soothing air.
Travelling down the memory lane
is college, fun and friend.
Travelling down the memory lane
is full of curves and bends.
Travelling down the memory lane
is a test of time and mind
Travelling down the memory lane
is a joy of it's kind.
Poet: Spandan Bhattacharyya
poem by Spandan Bhattacharyya
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The Memory Of The Kiss! ! !
This was the memory.
The memory kissed had played with the heart.
The memory kissed through fast the heartbeat.
The memory kissed made thoughts simply played with the feeling.
The kiss was the feeling of coming tempted promised heaven.
The feeling kiss appreciated each other.
The feeling kiss loved each other.
The feeling kiss gave each other.
It was the kiss through perfection.
The memory kissed had brought the wound.
The memory kissed came with yearning.
The memory kissed flirted.
A kiss not only played with the lips.
Because the kiss was destiny.
Because the kiss was to fill up the world was full of the colour.
This the kiss was the nature song.
This the kiss accompanied the prayer.
This the kiss accompanied the love.
And more significant the kiss always brought yearning.
The memory of the kiss had felt.
Shared the love shared yearning.
The memory kissed still was felt on the perfect lips through perfection.
The Day I Died
You were there when I died,
As I remembered seeing your face
You looked at me, in such disbelief
Uttering oh death, why such a waste.
When you said goodbye, I was there
Your eyes were full of tears
How sad I felt, for you and not myself
Wishing your sorrow would just disappear.
I cried, but you never saw it
The tears came down my cheeks
How I wished that I, was at your side,
As without you, I am so very weak.
And I was there when you walked away
Even though you knew that I was gone
I then saw the sorrow, in your tomorrow
Only if again we both were as one.
I was there when you walked out the door
I tried to comfort you, but you never heard me speak
So sadly you walked away, till our judgment day
And then once again, your soul I will seek.
I wonder now what will become of you
And also what will become of me
Will you live in our past, pretending it still did last
Or will you set my life and our memory free.
Life and happiness it came so quickly
But death it came in the wink of an eye
You brought me joy, that's the end of my story
And happy was I, you were there the day I died.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Dodoitsu Love Poems
When I was lost in your eyes
you softly touched my cheek,
we were away from this earth
beyond time and space.
*
Last night your tender sweet lips
were hot full of fire on mine
when the children walked in
surprising us there.
*
Beautiful times together
stays a sweet dear memory
that remains with our farewell,
with dividing miles.
*
Trapped in your intense heat
I saw a magical light
outside small tree branches moved,
while the rain fell down
poem by Gert Strydom
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0201 Two skins, one thick, one thin
No, don’t open that door. Don’t try.
It’s locked anyway. Or should be. Some people say
it’s worse than seeing their first dead body
half dead half alive, they never quite forget it.
Me I’m used to them. Them? Well OK,
I shan’t let you look but I’ll tell you.
It’s my two body suits.
Thin skin, thick skin.
When I go out in the thin skin
life’s more exciting but god it’s tiring.
A trip on public transport and I come back finished.
I see things, feel things rather, that are scary.
I see people’s next lives they’re creating for themselves.
There’s this blind school round the corner;
I saw them all on the station platform once and I could see
those who were going to see properly, next time,
those who were making themselves blinder…
then next day I saw an ordinary ‘seeing’ man talking to a friend
without using his eyes, just dead ahead…how could I tell him?
Another time, I sat next to a man
who looked as if he’d slept rough
but the scary thing was, he was giving off such intense heat
that I knew sure as sure, he’d just murdered somebody…
I never knew that was a clue…
I see everybody’s perfection and their present self
simultaneously. You might think it’s wonderful.
Yes and no. Not when you’re wearing your thin skin.
Yes, of course it’s great for poetry…that’s why
I bought it, why I wear it.
The thick skin’s for business, interviews, being fired,
the Editor’s office, the dentist, the doctor,
the mother-in-law, the footfall
in the dark alley, all the times you just
want to be tough, insensitive, eff the lot of them,
guess I don’t need to list all that?
And yes, sometimes you can go out in the wrong one.
A friend tells you of some awful family disaster
and you think, thick-skinned, well that’s their problem,
let them sort it out… and hate yourself for even thinking it.
Or someone looks at you on the wrong day
like you’re looking at me now,
sorta disbelieving, disgusted and pitying..
gotta go. Seeyerlater.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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