En.Citatepedia^®.ro

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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To Big Jess Big Newfoundland Next Door

You look beautiful at least I think so
With soft black hair black as a crow
And loving eyes horse chestnut brown
You are the finest dog your side of town.

Against canines I don't discriminate
Though some give me reason to hate
they growl at me snarl and bark
And show off their teeth like a shark.

But Jess you act different that's true
And that's one reason I like you,
You wag your tail and lick my hand
And your type of dog I understand.

With Kerry your friend gone away
You've got no one with whom you can play
Save sit on your haunches and sigh
And gaze at Mt Evelyn sky.

You are timid for a dog of your size
So beautiful gentle and wise
You want to make friends and not war
And you'll never see battle scar.

And though you must weigh fifty kilos or more
Big Jess big Newfoundland next door
You do not seek battle or strife
All you need is the peaceful life.

And though you may say that I've got the brains of a hog
For penning doggerel to a dog
But I'll tell you were I a true poet
For Jessie a poem I'd have wrote

poem by Francis Duggan
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The naughty baby dog

The naughty baby dog
growls everywhere she goes
and wants to bite everyone
that passes her.

Sometimes I wonder
what makes her growl
and causes her to snarl,

maybe she just wants
some attention
and to lie undisturbed
close to her master.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Dogs at night

During the day Dogs are Great
It's Dogs at night I really Hate
They Howl and Growl at any Movement
And they'll bite you to my Astonishment
I would recomend
You take a Light and a Stick
Maybe even a big Red Brick
If they Bark or Growl at You
Then you'll know what to Do
'Panic'! ! ! .......

poem by David Darbyshire
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Growl

While Allen Ginsberg told us “Howl! ”
I do prefer Clint Eastwood’s growl,
while cherishing his Gran Torino,
spaghetti westernized the fino
he dramatizes in Detroit.
This expiatory exploit
performed by the old man who killed
Koreans in the killing field,
and sought atonement for this wrong,
grumpily befriending Hmong
whom up to then he had despised,
is hardly overdramatized
by Clint, who’s far more in accord
with life than Ginzberg, as his Ford––
the Gran Torino ’72––
proves him to be with derring-do.
That’s why I far prefer Clint’s growl
to Ginsberg’s grating hapless howl.

Inspired by Clint Eastwood’s movie “Gran Torino, ” which concludes with a song, “Gran Torino, ” composed and sung by Eastwood at the end of the movie, where we see the Gran Torino that he bequeathes Thao, his young Hmong friend, driving along the shores of the Lake Huron.

12/30/08

poem by Gershon Hepner
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4. Ex Christmas Dinner

On a cold winters night before Christmas
By the fire sat a farmer with dog
He dreamed of his plump Christmas turkey
He saw in the flames from a log

Outside now the snow started falling
A strong north wind started to howl
Toasting his toes by the fireside
When sheepdog decided to growl

The farmer knew this could mean trouble
So putting on boots had begun
Old Bess wouldn’t growl just for nothing
He picked up his trusty shotgun

His chickens were all going crazy
A fox had got into the shed
And eaten his plump turkey dinner
His dreams became plain jam and bread

poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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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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Caged Love

My love is caged
Like a wild beast
I see you walk by and growl
Deep within my throat

These bars that separate us
Will not be forever
One day I shall be free
To have my way with you

I stretch my claws for someday
I will claw you
I lick my fangs for someday I will
Bite your neck and thrash you

I shall stalk you
And crouch in shadows
With only yellow-green eyes
Will you see in the reflection of your light

I shall leap and pin your
Helpless arms with my my paws
I will look into your eyes and growl
You will feel my hot breath upon your neck

I will bite you, then taste your flesh
My claws will rip you
Bite after bite rip after rip
It will be my pleasure

My love is a caged love
But I will have my treasure
These bars cannot hold forever
Someday my love shall be free

poem by Midnights Voice
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Double-Tail Dog

Would you like to buy a dog with a tail at either end?
He is quite the strangest dog there is in town.
Though he's not too good at knowing
just exactly where he's going,
He is very very good at sitting down.
He doesn't have a place to put a collar,
And I'll admit it's rather hard to lead him,
And he cannot hear you call
For he has no ears at all,
But it doesn't cost a single cent to feed him.
He cannot bite, he'll never bark or growl,
Just scratch him on his tails, he'll find it pleasing.
But you'll have to take him out
For twice as many walks,
And I'll bet that you can quickly guess the reason.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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My Canadian Chronicles 11

He laid there on a stool
his eyes watching my every move
as I sat at the table and wrote.
He looked aloof
as he looked at me,
an Egyptian Prince of Royalty.
His fawn coloured coat
not a spindle of fur out of place
and his tail of irregular stripes.
When I moved he moved and waited
for me to stroke him.
As I did, he gave out a short cry
more, more, more.

10 June 2009

poem by David Harris
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Granny

to my granny who i love so dear
you are with Jesus for the new year
you have touched the lives of so many.

memories to go around there are quite a few
and it's all because of you.

there will always be a spark in our hearts
that will never go out.
because when you come into our minds
you're there for a long time.

this is what rekindles that spark
and this is just a start..

i love you granny more than words could ever tell
you are the one that cast that spell.
and if you lived a thousand years
however you might try
you could not find another one to love you more than i.

i thank god up above for watching the one i love.
one day we will meet again at heavens gate.
and you'll be there to greet us because of our love and faith.

I LOVE YOU
I LOVE YOU
I LOVE YOU
.

poem by Louis Rams
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But I miss you Gran

I miss you so much Gran.
You left me.
And I don't no why.
But i miss you Gran.
I thought you'd be here for ever.
But now you've gone away.
And I miss you Gran.

I wish you could come back.
I can no longer see you.
I can't touch your face or hold your hand.
I can no longer give you a hug and a kiss.
I miss you Gran.
I don't understand why you had to go.

You've gone from this world.
And I miss you Gran.
I wish you were here.
A friendly face you alwys had.
Words of wisdom you would give.

But I miss you Gran.
My heart is breaking.
I just hope you no that I loved you.
I miss you Gran I really miss you.

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Love of Mr Chowdy

You loved to hug Mr Chowdy;
You liked it when his wet nose
Brushed your chin or his long
Tongue licked your ear. Don’t let
The darn mutt bark too much,
Father said, or he’ll have to go
And sleep in the yard out in the
Doghouse. You used to feed him
From scraps saved from meals,
Or pushed him small pieces under
The table out of sight of the others.
Some evenings you managed to
Sneak him into your room and let
Him lie in comfort on your bed;
Listening out in case the parents
Came and turfed him off into
The kitchen or out in the cold.
Some nights you could hear his
Heavy breathing across the way
Beside the window where you let
Him lay. Now you’re much older
And Mr Chowdy’s dead; now it’s
Your husband’s snoring and heavy
Breathing that you hear in bed.

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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To Bring You A Taste Of Pride

I wish there was something I could say,
To encourage the removal of those shackles.
Even in your dismay...
You are obedient.
But when I come near,
You bark.
When I approach to unlock your chains...
You sneer and growl.
As if I had done this,
To you.
Something I could never do.

You have been restrained too long,
From a 'self' that has been denied.
You bark at me!
Perhaps I am wrong,
To make attempts...
To bring you a taste of pride.
I will leave it here with the key.
Leaving you with more than one choice,
From which to decide.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Psalm Of Subjection

Nurse your 'unconquerable soul,'
But diligently bear in mind
That Life is not a wayward stroll,
For Circumstance asserts control,
And fiercely prods you up behind.
This dictum you can safely trust —
Growl you may, but Go you must.

Though you may shaft with all your might,
And kick against the goad, like Paul,
Though you may prop, and squeal, and bite,
You still put up a losing fight —
Unconquerable soul, and all.
Still subject to Compulsion's thrust,
Growl you may, but Go you must.

Have done with bluff, for Satan's sake,
A bulrush never can be strong.
You're overmatch'd — make no mistake —
The option is to bend or break;
In either case, you're forced along,
And what avails your cheap disgust?
Growl you may, but Go you must.

In point of fact, your name is Sludge,
And puppet-like your lot is cast,
For though you may rebel and grudge,
And spitefully refuse to budge,
Your claim will be pegg'd out at last.
Sludge to sludge, and dust to dust —
Growl you may, but Go you must.

Next hear St. Peter's challenge keen,
'My son, you've fail'd to nick a goal.
In headstrong wickedness serene,
You fear'd not parson, king or queen;
Your Bible was the BULLYTEEN;
Wherefore, your name is off the roll.
No picnic on these meadows green,
No part in this celestial scene,
For your unconquerable soul.
March down yon steps — the doom is just —
Growl you may, but Go you must.'

poem by Joseph Furphy
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He Sees Through Stone

He sees through stone
he has the secret
eyes this old black one
who under prison skies
sits pressed by the sun
against the western wall
his pipe between purple gums

the years fall
like overripe plums
bursting red flesh
on the dark earth

his time is not my time
but I have known him
in a time gone

he led me trembling cold
into the dark forest
taught me the secret rites
to make it with a woman
to be true to my brothers
to make my spear drink
the blood of my enemies

now black cats circle him
flash white teeth
snarl at the air
mashing green grass beneath
shining muscles

ears peeling his words
he smiles
he knows
the hunt the enemy
he has the secret eyes
he sees through stone

poem by Etheridge Knight
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To A Bully

You, blatant coward that you are,
Upon the helpless vent your spite.
Suppose you ply your trade on me;
Come, monkey with this bard, and see
How I'll repay your bark with bite!

Ay, snarl just once at me, you brute!
And I shall hound you far and wide,
As fiercely as through drifted snow
The shepherd dog pursues what foe
Skulks on the Spartan mountain-side.

The chip is on my shoulder--see?
But touch it and I'll raise your fur;
I'm full of business, so beware!
For, though I'm loaded up for bear,
I'm quite as like to kill a cur!

poem by Eugene Field
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A Case Of Murder

They should not have left him there alone,
Alone that is except for the cat.
He was only nine, not old enough
To be left alone in a basement flat,
Alone, that is, except for the cat.
A dog would have been a different thing,
A big gruff dog with slashing jaws,
But a cat with round eyes mad as gold,
Plump as a cushion with tucked-in paws---
Better have left him with a fair-sized rat!
But what they did was leave him with a cat.
He hated that cat; he watched it sit,
A buzzing machine of soft black stuff,
He sat and watched and he hated it,
Snug in its fur, hot blood in a muff,
And its mad gold stare and the way it sat
Crooning dark warmth: he loathed all that.
So he took Daddy's stick and he hit the cat.
Then quick as a sudden crack in glass
It hissed, black flash, to a hiding place
In the dust and dark beneath the couch,
And he followed the grin on his new-made face,
A wide-eyed, frightened snarl of a grin,
And he took the stick and he thrust it in,
Hard and quick in the furry dark.
The black fur squealed and he felt his skin
Prickle with sparks of dry delight.
Then the cat again came into sight,
Shot for the door that wasn't quite shut,
But the boy, quick too, slammed fast the door:
The cat, half-through, was cracked like a nut
And the soft black thud was dumped on the floor.
Then the boy was suddenly terrified
And he bit his knuckles and cried and cried;
But he had to do something with the dead thing there.
His eyes squeezed beads of salty prayer
But the wound of fear gaped wide and raw;
He dared not touch the thing with his hands
So he fetched a spade and shovelled it
And dumped the load of heavy fur
In the spidery cupboard under the stair
Where it's been for years, and though it died
It's grown in that cupboard and its hot low purr
Grows slowly louder year by year:
There'll not be a corner for the boy to hide
When the cupboard swells and all sides split
And the huge black cat pads out of it.

Submitted by Andrew Mayers

poem by by unknown author
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Talk Over Tea.

Janice's gran
had left the room

to fetch another
pot of tea

and Janice said
Are you coming on

the day trip to the seaside?
I'm not sure

you replied
Oh please do

Janice said
Then we can be together

and I won't have to spend time
with those giggly girls

from the gospel group
you looked at her fair hair

and the way her eyes
were on you

and how precise
her lips were

when she spoke
I'm not sure my parents

can afford it
you said

Oh it's free for kids
whose parents are poor

she said
And after all

it's part of the point
of the whole thing

to show Christian values
and so on

and she smiled
and put her hand

on yours
under the table

as her gran came in
with the teapot

What are you two
talking about?

Gran asked
putting the teapot

down on the table
Janice's hand

squeezed yours
under the table

Oh just about the day trip
to the seaside

Janice said
Are you going too?

her gran asked you
you hesitated

and then said
Yes I think so

and Janice looked at you
her blue eyes bright

and she said
Isn't that good Gran?

Yes indeed
her gran said

and poured tea
into your cup

and added milk
and sugar

and Janice's hand
left yours

and the absence
of the warmth

of her hand
felt like

a dying world
in a vast galaxy

or drowning
in a deep blue sea.

poem by Terry Collett
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Grizzly Bear

Yeah they call me Grizzly Bear got long black grizzly hair
Walk down the street and everybody stop and stare
Ohohoh well I'm wild and wooly and free
And so you'd better not mess with me
Lemme tell you that I howl yowl growl like a grizzly bear

They say there go Grizzly Bear got no clothes to wear
They say I'm all hung up bein' nowhere
Yeah but the girls they love my clows and my great big chompin' jaws
Lemme tell you that I howl yowl and growl like a grizzly bear

Well now I can't be chained and I can't be tamed and they can't kill my desire
So baby gimme a hug I'll be your bearskin rug
And I'll lie in front of your fire on winter
Baby if you dare why don't you come on down to my lair
And if you got some money to share I'll be waitin' for you there
Hey you know I'm gonna on strong and we can hug'n mate the whole week long
Lemme tell you that I howl yowl a growl like a grizzly bear
[ piano ]
(Yeah watch out baby here I come again)
They call me Grizzly Bear they say I'm kooky and square
They can say anything they want about me I don't care I don't care
Because I'm takin' it day by day and I'm livin' my own sweet way
Lemme tell you that I howl yowl a growl like a grizzly bear
Like grizzly bear yeah I really rip and tear I really get my share

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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