0027 Dog and Man
Beside me as I sit here typing is a golden pool, of relaxation,
alertness, patience and trust, uniquely brought together
in one glorious being. Do we really deserve each other?
surely anyone who has brushed the coat of, let’s say,
a golden Labrador, should be instantly converted
to belief in God? Or at the very least,
in an evolution which is more miraculous, more glorious
than many people’s view of God…
the long, smooth, silky, strong hairs on the back;
the trailing, slightly grubby hairs
of that emotional telegraph, the tail,
the magic gradations of the head hairs,
from sleek and flat around the collar; so fine in the ears;
laid so beautifully on the bony forehead which seems
so intelligent as you touch it, gently, on the centre,
watching the brimming, trusting, wary, luscious eyes; with
those almost hidden, expressive eyebrow hairs;
to smooth and wiry snout hairs toward the jaw,
around that moist muzzle, Columbus to the world,
which you may with his permission
touch lightly, as you’d touch
the most delicate of machinery made by man
how we may wonder, what they think of us,
as surely such magnificence must think?
Not so much, whether we’re God, or
Domestic Provider, or Leader of
The Depleted Pack, or simply
Today’s Elected Master –
no, the more intimate things, like – well, who knows? -
why They don’t look us in the eye at all times,
or what They're so busy doing between meals,
or why They just keep a boring straight line when
we go out for a wildness? in that map
of wind and air and smells and trails
and messages and mysteries, written
new every day, which They call
‘going for a walk’; requiring Their donning
of more layers of bedding material, never
to feel, poor species, the wind in Their fur
except on that insensitive slightly hairy head which doesn’t
even enjoy the world of smell?
but we have our special moments,
He and I; we play that game which is
our special thing; I’m lying there,
relaxed, alert, patient, trustful, sensing
it’s the time for wildness; we’re together in the head,
sharing the same mind just for a moment;
He doesn’t need to make more than that
familiar sound in his throat, the man-music
which as a puppy, I got to know as
‘would you like to go for a walk…? ’ –
now He plays this game, just makes that noise
in his throat… and my ears prick up – He’s mine
for a joyous whole hour, we’re going to live it up
where life is really lived – Outside.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The game of love
The game of love that I played
I was unfair all the way
I won your heart and broke it
Like a poor toy made of clay
Now I long for you today
When my hairs have become gray
Now I understand all the truth
I wasted all my precious youth
I made mistake in the first place
My whole life is now in a mess
Now I long for you today
When my hairs have become gray
Now we are oceans apart
All the girls now break my heart
Now I know what you mean to me
So I cry for my destiny
Now I have lost life's joy and charms
Now I long for your tender arms
Now I long for you today
When my hairs have become gray
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nape Of My Neck
The nape of my neck has prickly hairs,
sensitive to touch.
I'd give anything to stop my urge
to want it so darn much.
Better I scarve it then leave it bare,
better not to feel
anything that can make it sensitive
so my heart will heal.
Remember the touch. Remember the feel.
Remember the hairs on your neck
And then try and release it.
Keep those feelings in check.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Doesn't End With Death
Love doesn’t end with death, Mother
Said. A few days had gone since Father’s
Demise and you stood in their room
While she sat on her bed and did her hair.
She stopped in mid brush and cried.
I wish it was me, you said, at least then
You’d still have him to love. She looked
Round at you and said, then I’d be grieving
For you. It’s still grief no matter who
Goes or stays, she said. She wiped her
Eyes and brushed her hair once more
Looking at herself in the mirror. We never
Appreciate the time we have with people
Until they’ve gone, she muttered, half to
Herself and half to you. Ordinary days are
Best because they’re more plentiful,
She continued, looking at you through
The mirror’s view. You noticed the first grey
Hairs appearing where she’d brushed last,
Sitting there amongst hairs brunette.
Now she sits unaware of days gone by
Or grief; dementia’s done its work so well
That all is wiped clean from brain and head.
She’s unaware of being alive herself let
Alone Father not being there or being dead.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Sam So Sweet
LITTLE SAM SO SWEET
Mrs. Levine who is tall and quite lean,
has the cutest little dog you have ever seen,
Sam is a little Yorkie who is tiny and short,
sits in Mrs. Levine’s purse like a sweet mini tort.
Sam the little Yorkie has very silky black hair,
he will not wear a jacket and it’s not that he doesn’t care,
just to him he doesn’t need any extra fashion flair.
Sam will walk real quick with Mrs. Levine
gliding in front of her he prances with his small feet.
His eyes are hidden from hairs so long,
he doesn’t mind he still gets along-
gets along with Tashi the Shih Tzu dog,
they walk happily together in the early morning fog.
Then one night they almost got caught in the rain,
it was O.K. they went inside the condo to play.
Now if you see Sam with Mrs. Levine,
say “Hi” and give Little Sam a little dog treat.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on December 21,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unexpected Things...
It's unexpected..
But it's something that causes you to catch your breath..
Make you sway
Perhaps it makes your pupils dilate..
The look of his fingers as they dance on a keyboard..
Those hands are unexpectedly
Somehow
Attractive
She imagines them on her..
And, a blush creeps to her cheeks
Making her flush
Making her warm
An unexpected glance at her flesh..
Her shirt lifts as she reaches up to adjust something too high...
It's that area at the small of her back
Near her side
And,
His eyes linger..
Tracing her form
While she is unarmed in her lack of awareness
He can't help himself..
Even that small glimpse
Leaves his throat dry
Makes his hand twitch
To touch..
Even a fleeting touch
Is that asking for too much?
Lips
What can one say..
When they are full
And
Beautiful
And inviting
And so soft..
She bites her lower lip all the time
She imagines her lips
Dancing on his..
He thinks he'd like to be the one to
Bite
See what her lips taste like
Her collar bone..
He imagines his lips there
His tongue tracing the perfect arch
To the dip at her throat..
Her eyes
They grow bigger at the site of him
Surprised
It's not a controlled reaction
Heartbeats accelerate
His neck..
The back where tapered
Perfectly clipped hairs
Meet the edge of his shirt..
But leave enough space
To spy his skin..
She imagines what it would feel like...
If her lips ever met his skin there
Her legs
Sculpted perfection in heels..
He imagines...
His eyes
So warm
She likes the way they look at her
And, when he laughs
His smile reaches them..
Her skin
Golden sun kissed and warm
Smooth...
Soft..
He wonders
If she's smooth and soft and golden
Everywhere..golden...delicious...
His voice
She can close her eyes and listen to his voice all day..
It calls to her
Somewhere deep inside
There is a reaction..
Her smile
He likes to see her smile
Especially when he's the one
Who has caused it..
She likes his arms
She's always had a thing for shoulders..
He likes her hair
Wonders how soft it is
How it smells
They spend their days
Wondering...
When things get dull..
Even when they aren't...
Daydreaming..
Each relieved
The other can't read thoughts..
Both acutely aware
Of the other...
She smells like...
His sent is that of...
It was unexpected
The realization of the other
It was surprising..
A shock to the system
A sudden awareness
Something that caused their breath to catch
Make them sway
Make their pupils dilate
It's a heady reaction
Unexpected in so many ways.
poem by Rabia Minhas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Golden Touch
Golden touch
I was broken till you came along
You put the words back into my song
In your world is where I now belong
Golden touch is it that I love you so much
I was lost till I met you
I now love everything you do
I live now just because of you
Golden touch
Your are the object of my desire
I am like a cat on a high wire
For you I would walk in front of gunfire
Golden touch
This to you I must confess
Your mind and body I want to possess
I long for you to kiss and caress
Golden touch my Liege
You are the key to my success
My love I can no longer suppress
You are a beautiful princess
Golden touch
To me I grant you total access
With you I feel no distress
You have driven me to total madness
Golden touch
No longer these thoughts I can suppress
With my eyes you I’ve undress
If the world would know I could care less
Golden touch
These words I wish to you to express
You’ve brought me out of my sadness
You’ve driven back the darkness
You are my goddess and my empress
Golden touch
I wasn’t quite right and you made me see the light
You are what I’ve been longing for
With your love I could never want more
poem by Wilfred Mellers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Sam So Sweet
LITTLE SAM SO SWEET
Mrs. Levine who is tall and quite lean,
has the cutest little dog you have ever seen,
Sam is a little Yorkie who is tiny and short,
sits in Mrs. Levine’s purse like a sweet mini tort.
Sam the little Yorkie has very silky black hair,
he will not wear a jacket and it’s not that he doesn’t care,
just to him he doesn’t need any extra fashion flair.
Sam will walk real quick with Mrs. Levine
gliding in front of her he prances with his small feet.
His eyes are hidden from hairs so long,
he doesn’t mind he still gets along-
gets along with Tashi the Shih Tzu dog,
they walk happily together in the early morning fog.
Then one night they almost got caught in the rain,
it was O.K. they went inside the condo to play.
Now if you see Sam with Mrs. Levine,
say “Hi” and give Little Sam a little dog treat.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on December 21,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sick bed
The flue eats
my head and throat and body
and still you come and lie
close against me
and let your fingers
branch right through mine.
My throat burns
and I am scared
that you will also
get something
of this awful thing,
but without a worry
you kiss me
and I can feel life
pulsing on your soft hot lips.
Your fingers tickle the hairs
on my lip and chin
and there are teasing devils
dancing in your eyes,
while your fingers
creep to places
under my arms.
Like a child
I am given medicine
while I am already
much better,
in my soul and spirit
since you are with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sick bed[2}
The flue eats
my head and throat and body
and still you come and lie
close against me
and let your fingers
branch right through mine.
My throat burns
and I am scared
that you will also
get something
of this awful thing,
but without a worry
you kiss me
and I can feel life
pulsing on your soft hot lips.
Your fingers tickle the hairs
on my lip and chin
and there are teasing devils
dancing in your eyes,
while your fingers
creep to places
under my arms.
Like a child
I am given medicine
while I am already
much better,
in my soul and spirit
since you are with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ringing the Bells
And this is the way they ring
the bells in Bedlam
and this is the bell-lady
who comes each Tuesday morning
to give us a music lesson
and because the attendants make you go
and because we mind by instinct,
like bees caught in the wrong hive,
we are the circle of crazy ladies
who sit in the lounge of the mental house
and smile at the smiling woman
who passes us each a bell,
who points at my hand
that holds my bell, E flat,
and this is the gray dress next to me
who grumbles as if it were special
to be old, to be old,
and this is the small hunched squirrel girl
on the other side of me
who picks at the hairs over her lip,
who picks at the hairs over her lip all day,
and this is how the bells really sound,
as untroubled and clean
as a workable kitchen,
and this is always my bell responding
to my hand that responds to the lady
who points at me, E flat;
and although we are not better for it,
they tell you to go. And you do.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Touching
She has a four inch scar-
vertical-
from above her navel,
to her almost there.
Slightly raised
it has it's smooth parts
and its bumpy parts
which I feel most nights;
each time wondering if
the bumpy will get smooth
or the smooth bumpier.
It at times
seems to signify
her good half
and her better half.
She doesn't notice
since I touch it so often
like a nightly ritual.
It must soothing to her;
she doesn't protest.
'Thanks Dear' she most often says.
I imagine
she imagines
this is our way
of staying in touch
and I feel her
in this.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And The Grass Wont Pay No Mind
(words & music by neil diamond)
Listen easy, you can hear God calling
Walking barefoot by the stream
Come on to me, your hairs softly falling
On my face as in a dream
And the time will be our time
And the grass wont pay no mind
Saying nothing, lying where the sun is
Baking down upon our sides
My lips touch you, with their soft wet kisses
Your hands gentle in reply
And the time will be our time
And the grass wont pay no mind
Child, touch my soul with your cries
And the music will know what weve found
I, hear a hundred good-byes
But today I hear only one sound
The moment were living is now
Now now now now now now now
Young bird flying, and a soft wind blowing
Cools the sweat inside my palms
Close my eyes, hear the flowers growing
As you lay sleeping in my arms
And the time will be our time
And the grass wont pay no mind
No the grass wont pay no mind
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet- God gave man superior senses
God made each man, with eyes to see clearly,
And ears to hear the sounds that Nature made,
And nose to smell the scent of things surely,
And gave him skin to touch the Earth he laid.
Man made his own gadgets and tools to tell,
Details of environs that him surround;
Nevertheless, the things he made all fell,
Quite off the mark his special senses found.
And to his surprise, man had realised,
God given Special Senses simply great;
And all the things he'd made were mammoth-sized,
Ashamed and yet, he accepts not his state.
Whatever, God our Master gave to Man,
No man surpass'd; at least equal it can.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gray hairs are signs of wisdom if you hold your tongue, speak and they are but hairs, as in the young.
quote by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Cant Ever Get Enough Of You
Darren hayes / rick nowels
Well I know that I have only ever held your hand but just one touch is more
Than enough to understand theres a master plan and although I know I dont
Believe in destiny maybe it found me now my world is filled with so many things
But nothing compares to the touch of your skin theres a symphony and a melody
That plays whenever youre around I think Ive been found
I can see the sun and I can feel the rain I can hear the wind call your name i
Can feel your love but theres one thing I cant do I cant ever get enough of
You
Now I know that in the past Ive been much too keen but your eyes are the
Kindest that Ive ever seen I guess there are some things you just know theres
A voice inside telling me to hold on and never let you go theres a tune that
Plays its a sacred sound its a symphony I hear whenever youre around now my
World is filled with a whisper of love and a promise of tomorrow I can see the
Sun and I can feel the rain I can hear the wind call your name I can feel your
Love but theres one thing I cant do I cant ever get enough of you
When we make love I lose track of time I cant count all the colors I see in
Your eyes and while your heart beats in mine, its true I cant ever get enough
Of you
Now my world is filled with so many things but nothing compares to the touch of
Your skin theres a symphony and a melody that plays whenever youre around i
Think Ive been found
I can see the sun and I can feel the rain I can hear the wind call your name i
Can feel your love but theres one thing I cant do I cant ever get enough of
You
I can see the sun and I can feel the rain I can hear the wind call your name i
Can feel your love but theres one thing I cant do I cant ever get enough of
You
song performed by by Darren Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Licentious Person
Thy sins and hairs may no man equal call ;
For, as thy sins increase, thy hairs do fall.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Healthy Body Means A Healthy Mind
Everybody wants
A healthy body
A compassionate heart
A fine smooth mind
A skin that glows
Hairs that are soft
And freely flow
As smooth as silk
As soft as a cloud
The one who has them
Makes him feel proud
To have a body like this
One does not have to do
Anything special
Has to develop
The habit of excercise
Do not eat food
That is junk and greasy
Respect and preserve
The gift god has given to you
Take Care of your body
The body shall keep you
And your heart happy
Throughout your life
Disease
Shall not come
Near you
Love your body
It shall love you
Never forget
A healthy body means
A healthy mind
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On His Baldness
At dawn I sighed to see my hairs fall;
At dusk I sighed to see my hairs fall.
For I dreaded the time when the last lock should go...
They are all gone and I do not mind at all!
poem by Bai Juyi
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Animal Rights (A Bad Cat)
A cat is a bad cat,
so long as it sheds,
the hairs on my hat.
A cat is a bad cat,
so long as it spreads
the food scraps
on my mat.
A cat is a bad cat,
so long as it doesn't protect
my cheese and bread,
stolen away by a mouse,
which ransacks my house.
A cat is a bad cat,
no matter thin or fat,
so long as it sleeps all day on my bed,
so long as it makes noisy fight,
during the silent nights,
so angry and mad,
with a pack of stray cats,
for a beautiful female cat,
for mating business.
Every morning it comes back,
with wounds on the head,
scratches on the back,
and the fresh blood still wet.
These wounds I have to clean and dress,
while it enjoys the pleasure of sex.
I Can't Ever Get Enough Of You
Well I know that I have only ever held your hand
But just one touch is more than enough to understand
There's a master plan
And although I know I don't believe in destiny
Maybe it found me
Now my world is filled with so many things
But nothing compares to the touch of your skin
There's a symphony
And a melody that plays whenever you're around
I think I've been found
I can see the sun
And I can feel the rain
I can hear the wind call your name
I can feel your love
But there's one thing I can't do
I can't ever get enough of you
Now I know that in the past I've been much too keen
But your eyes are the kindest that I've ever seen
I guess there are some things you just know
There's a voice inside telling me to hold on
And never let you go
There's a tune that plays
It's a sacred sound
It's a symphony I hear whenever you're around
Now my world is filled
With a whisper of love and a promise of tomorrow
I can see the sun
And I can feel the rain
I can hear the wind call your name
I can feel your love
But there's one thing I can't do
I can't ever get enough of you
When we make love I lose track of time
I can't count all the colors I see in your eyes
And while your heart beats in mine
song performed by by Darren Hayes from Spin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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