Auntie and Mutt.
Auntie cut the rind
off the bacon
and offered it
to the dog
but before the dog
could put his lips to it
you made off with it
down the cast iron stairs
beside the barrack block
and the dog followed you
barking as it did so
and once you reached the ground
you went off
onto the grass
and the dog
chased you
and jumped up at you
trying to reach
the bacon rind
you held between fingers
and Auntie called over
the metal rail
let the mutt have it
don't tease him
and so you bit
the rind in half
and gave the mutt one half
and ate the other yourself
but sometimes after Auntie
put the bacon rind
in the dog's bowl
you picked it up
and tossed it
over the balcony rail
onto the ground below
and the dog raced down
the stairs after it
but now and then
you pretended
to toss it over
and after the dog
raced off
you would hold it
over the side of the rail
and called to the mutt
and said
I still got it mutt
and the dog raced back
up the stairs
and you sat there
on the metal landing
and the dog came
and licked and nuzzled you
and you gave the dog
the bacon rind
and he licked you
and wagged its tail
and Auntie called out
what are you up to?
what are you doing now?
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
Auntie's Mutt
Auntie’d cut off
the bacon rind
and throw it
for the dog
and you’d grab it
and run down
the stairs with it
and the dog’d
run down after you
and the bacon rind
yapping at your heels
and you’d hold
the bacon rind up
and the mutt’d jump up
at it and you’d move it
higher and higher
and the mutt’d jump
higher and higher
until at last
he’d grab the bacon rind
between his teeth
and pull it
from your fingers
and run off
with his prize
and you’d stand there
clapping your hands
ready for the next
thrown out
bacon rind
from Auntie’s hand
up on the balcony.
poem by Terry Collett
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Too Far From Auntie's Gaze
Auntie said
don't go
too far away
with the mutt
I need to know
where you are
and so you
and the mutt
went down
the metal stairway
and off
into the barrack grounds
at Aldershot
keeping close
to the places
that your aunt
could see you from
and you could hear
soldiers marching
on the parade ground
and the sergeants
bellowing their orders
to the marching troops
and you sensed
the cold air
and frost
on the ground
as you walked
and the mutt sniffed
the earth
and you said
come on mutt
let's go for a run
and off you went
and the mutt followed
and overtook you
its tail wagging
its eyes large
and brown
like pools of chocolate
and lucid like mud
and you raced him
as far as you could
then you had to stop
for breath
and the mutt
stopped too
and looked back at you
its tongue hanging
from the corner
of its mouth
and you looked over
to where your aunt lived
and realised
she wouldn't
be able to see you
from where you were
and the dog didn't care
and the air
was chilling
your lungs
and your tongue hung
in the corner
of your little boy mouth
and the soldiers marched
and marched
and you stood watching
bent over
with your hands
on your knees
and big black birds
called out from the trees.
poem by Terry Collett
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Just Beyond
And Auntie saying Don’t
Go too far so I can’t see you
And off you’d go off down
The iron stairs with the dog
In pursuit and the wind in the
Sails of your coat and the sky
Beckoning above and Auntie’s
Voice trailing away on the wind’s
Wings and you happy as the sun
In the morning sky making your
Feet rush across grass and the dog
Overtaking looking back tongue
Out of the side of its mouth and
You saying Go on you mutt run
Run and your young legs taking
You far from Auntie’s sight and
Yet looking back you know she’ll
Be there hands in the clothes
Wash scrubbing away her elbows
Wet from the plunge and you
Throwing hands to the sky and
Saying Lift me up wind take me
To the great place beyond the clouds
Of white and sky of blue with just
The mutt and five year old you.
poem by Terry Collett
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Unnecessary
Unnecessary,
Auntie said,
when you asked
about taking the mutt
for a walk;
he can take himself
for a walk,
in fact,
she continued
straining the cabbage,
the green water
pushing through
the stainless steel colander,
he runs,
he loves to run
all over the fields.
You knew he did,
you used to run with him,
and being that kind of mutt
he’d let you run beside him,
you being a small boy,
you being the one
who shared his bacon rinds,
you the one who filled
his water bowl
when Auntie forgot.
Sit down now,
Auntie said,
dinner is about
to be served,
and I hope
you have washed
your hands,
and she’d dish you
a large serving
of cabbage
with your meal
and she didn’t see
how that was so
unnecessary.
poem by Terry Collett
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Auntie and Hand Washing
You made your way from the john
to the dining table
and Auntie said
have you washed your hands?
yes
you said
are you sure?
Auntie asked
looking at you
with her fixed stare
and the black mutt
under the table
gazed at you too
I washed them this morning
you said
let me see your hands
Auntie said
and so you held out your hands
and she turned them over and up
and held them looking at them
you're meant to wash them
after going to the toilet each time
she said
not just
when you get up
in the morning
she released your hands
and you looked at them
as if they were suddenly there
before you for the first time
so you had best wash them
Auntie said
before I dish up your dinner
and so you went back
to the wash room
and turned on the tap
and taking soap
between your hands
you washed and rinsed
and dried them
on the white towel
on the rail and went back
to the dining room
and showed your aunt
that's better
she said
now go sit down
and wait for your dinner
and the black mutt
put its chin on your lap
waiting in anticipation
for titbits from your plate
and Auntie called out
from the kitchen
remember to say your prayer
before meals
and you said ok
and muttered
thank you for what I'm about to eat
may there be few vegetables
and lots of meat
and the mutt's dribble
wet your thigh
its jaw lingering there
giving you
its dark eyed stare.
poem by Terry Collett
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Your Auntie Grizelda
By diane hilderbrand and jack keller
She knows her mind all right, your auntie grizelda,
She says she knows my kind, she might, maybe so.
Oh, yeah, shes raised you right, your auntie grizelda,
You only know the things she wants you to know.
I know shes having a fit,
She doesnt like me a bit,
No bird of grace ever lit on auntie grizelda.
You cant begrudge her style, your auntie grizelda,
She couldnt budge a smile and do it for free.
So righteous making fudge, your auntie grizelda,
So proper judging others over her tea.
You look just like her you do,
I know by looking at you,
That youve been listening to your auntie grizelda.
[ad lib]
Oh, no, dont look at me like auntie grizelda
It takes much more to be someone of your own.
Youve got to make it free from auntie grizelda
Or just like her youll have to make it alone.
I know shes having a fit,
She doesnt like me a bit,
No bird of grace ever lit on auntie grizelda.
Auntie grizelda, auntie grizelda
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Tribute To Bacon (Bacon the food)
Why does almost everyone like smoky bacon?
It tastes too good be not mistaken, the best thing to eat is great bacon.
They say even vegans like to eat bacon.
Have you heard they've even got chocolate covered bacon!
There is a donut with maple and bacon.
So, ode to pigs who give us great bacon.
And hooray to all who love great smoky bacon.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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Hangin' together
At times I look down At my raggedy-ass lil mutt
Lickin’ himself, passin’ gas
thinking’ about, only God knows what
Then he looks back up at me
And I can surely see
By that quizzical look in his eye
That he’s wonderin’ just what
That raggedly ol’ man Could be thinking’ about
Then he lays his head back down with a sigh
Then I reach down,
give his head a pat
And we take comfort, both he and I
We have this special understanding
About bacon
And about nappin’
And just hangin’ together…he and I
poem by David Whalen
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Nothing To Say.
Auntie took you to the hut
where the wives of the soldiers
met up to chat and drink tea
and eat cakes and you sat in
the chair looking at each of
them in turn wishing time
would go and you could go
back home to your few toys
and play but no Auntie carried
on the talking and the long
conversations were way over
your head and now and then
they’d break into laughter and
some woman’s kid would cry
and she’d say I think she needs
changing and off she’d go wheeling
the pram to another room and
Auntie’d talk to another woman
and you’d lift your eyes ceiling
wards and wonder where Uncle
was fighting and how he would
cope stuck in the hut with women
yakking all the time and one woman
smiled a big goofy smile at you and
offered you a cake and orange juice
but you shook your head and looked
away in silence sulking with no good
thoughts in your mind and nothing to say.
poem by Terry Collett
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Old Bob.
Old Bob lived
in a cardboard box
under the stairs.
Don’t feed the mutt,
Granny said.
But you did, often,
with scraps from the table
or broken biscuits
from the battered tin
that Gran kept
on the lower shelf.
Bob was a short haired
fawn dog with eyes
like dark plump plums.
He’d snarl or growl
if anyone got too near
or touched his bowl,
except you; you he’d let
into his box and lick
your five year old face
and allow you to stroke
or hug or touch his tail.
He’d bark, snarl and growl
his dislike of humanity;
you, however, he seemed
to love, somehow.
poem by Terry Collett
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Bring Home The Bacon
To my country
I promised
to bring home
the bacon.
And yes, I did
I did bring home
the bacon.
But to my surprise
the bacon vanished
so instantly.
Oh, my beloved country
forgive this unworthy
child of yours
I wasn't able
to bring home
sufficient bacon
for all your children.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Spied
How was it for you?
Uncle asked, lying
Slumped across Auntie,
Some small-beached
Whale, his voice escaping
His lungs as would air
From a punctured tyre.
Fine, it was fine, Auntie
Sighed, her soprano
Voice easing beneath
His sweaty soft bulk,
Unaware their young
Niece was standing silent
By the half open door,
Capturing them in the
Semi light, waiting small
And innocent to ask for
Water, dithering, unsure
Whether to ask and stay
Or simply to close the
Door and walk away.
poem by Terry Collett
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If you were coming in the fall,
If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spum,
As housewives do a fly.
If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.
If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.
If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.
But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Into The Fire
The sky was falling and streaked with blood
I heard you calling me, then you disappeared into the dust
Up the stairs, into the fire
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
You gave your love to see, in fields of red and autumn brown
You gave your love to me and lay your young body down
Up the stairs, into the fire
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need you near, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
It was dark, too dark to see, you held me in the light you gave
You lay your hand on me
Then walked into the darkness of your smoky grave
Up the stairs, into the fire
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
May your love bring us love
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chasing A Spot In The Sun
Chasing a spot
in the Sun
Cars and Tail
The proverbial bone
or the hand
that once
fed it
Restless
Dog sleep
of
Dog years
of
Dog life
The barking up
wrong trees
Neither taken nor done
in
this mongrel mutt
not quite
out of the
woods yet
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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Cinderella And The Dog
Cinderella and her dog
sat at home on the old log.
Sisters had gone to the dance
homely ones did have no chance.
Said the dog 'my Cinderella,
may I be this evening's fella,
we could wash and dress with care
and could make a handsome pair.'
She had raised her bushy brow,
asked the clever dog just how
they would get into the castle
while avoiding a big hassle.
'You are nothing but a mutt,
always scratching your big butt,
full of craziness and fleas
barely reach up to my knees.'
Dog had motives quite ulterior,
said 'I'm not at all inferior,
every dog, on the inside
hides a man beneath his hide.
All it needs is one French Kiss,
which in turn produces bliss,
makes me into your own prince
(turns away and quickly grins) ,
Bravely Cinderella acts,
knowing only half the facts.
Kisses him for one whole hour
to release that magic power.
But no miracle breaks free,
dog lifts leg now, just to pee,
doesn't seem the least surprised,
she has still not realised
that the dog has pulled her leg.
So she now begins to beg:
'I will kiss you one more time,
please come out, man in your prime.
Let me tell you that your breath
is far worse than Father Death.'
So, they kiss again and linger
as the Emperor's own singer
happens to be wand'ring by,
carrying a rhubarb pie.
'Sir', pleads pretty Cinderella,
you, the singer Pico Bella,
can you give us some advice? '
Pico says 'You have nice eyes,
but a mutt will stay a mutt,
into man a mutt cannot
metamorph through simple kissing,
since he has genetics missing.'
Well, she turned now to the critter,
hot, enraged and really bitter,
'How could YOU, a lowly dog
who sleeps in a hollow log
trick me into kissing French
with your halitosis stench? '
'Look', he answered, 'truly sorry,
first, I had to have a story,
all my life I've not been kissed,
but I am a journalist.
Hired by the King's own wife,
never gotten into strife.
Learned that one can grab a chance
if the lady likes to dance.'
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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My Auntie Zousy
auntie zousy works
as caregiver for years in chicago
to raise her grandchildren
she sent her children
to the university and they got married
and got separated from their husbands
messy, the life of auntie zousy had
always been messy but she survives
somehow
always on the go
finding work as caregiver in the
united states of america
she's 75 now and on her birthday
a party is tendered
surrounded by her 30 grandchildren or so
and inside the grand old house
of her ancestors
the laughters redound
reverberating the happy sounds
of a big family
i look at her
she is short, and emaciated and
her cheekbones show that she is not at all well
sickly, that is what auntie zousy is now
bent and misshapen
and yet in her silence
she has not surrendered
to the sacrifices of
love for the family
her grandchildren now sing
her a happy birthday
and she blows her 75 candles
in one swift breath
suddenly the room is dark
and smoke rises in the air
and she makes her
silent wish and then the lights
are turned on and laughter
follows as it will always will
happy, so happy, that is what
my auntie zousy is all about
a life of sacrifice
a lifetime of service
a life full of family laughter
a life full of love
age has not stolen
what she has treasured
now she waits for something
more exciting
perhaps, a happy death
a funeral surrounded by all
the grandchildren she always loved
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Crossroads
The second half of my life will be black
to the white rind of the old and fading moon.
The second half of my life will be water
over the cracked floor of these desert years.
I will land on my feet this time,
knowing at least two languages and who
my friends are. I will dress for the
occasion, and my hair shall be
whatever color I please.
Everyone will go on celebrating the old
birthday, counting the years as usual,
but I will count myself new from this
inception, this imprint of my own desire.
The second half of my life will be swift,
past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder,
asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road.
The second half of my life will be wide-eyed,
fingers shifting through fine sands,
arms loose at my sides, wandering feet.
There will be new dreams every night,
and the drapes will never be closed.
I will toss my string of keys into a deep
well and old letters into the grate.
The second half of my life will be ice
breaking up on the river, rain
soaking the fields, a hand
held out, a fire,
and smoke going
upward, always up.
poem by Joyce Sutphen
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On Tuesdays
On Tuesdays Max visited
A dame a few blocks
Away with the mutt that
Seemed to bark all day.
He went because he liked
The way she made coffee
And always offered him
Toast or cake and because
She was blind and had the
Most useless mutt for the
Blind in the whole world.
On Tuesdays she opened
Her door to him; let him
In to her world and made
Him coffee and offered him
Toast or cake and listened as
He spoke and told her jokes
And related the latest gossip.
On Tuesdays he listened as
She spoke of her youth, of her
Days of being a beauty, of the
Day she lost her sight, how she
Coped in her world of darkness.
On Tuesdays he took her for a
Walk to a local restaurant and
They dined and ate and drank
And she listened to the people
Talking around her and to Max
Who recited a new poem he’d
Written or she just sat listening
To the traffic pass by wondering
If there were white puffy clouds
Above and what the colour the sky.
On Tuesdays Max walked her home
After lunch and they undressed and
Had sex and smoked and lay on the
Bed, he gazing at her beauty and she
Glad to be living and stroking his head.
poem by Terry Collett
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One rind is enough to tie a thousand pieces of wood.