Poem of the Day

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A ball, a dog and us

 

You look as if you’re giggling

and your tail is madly wriggling

Yes, I know that all you want to do is run.

 

But, Poppet, we’re not racing

and we’re tired of all the chasing.

I’m warning you, this isn’t any fun!

 

I thought that you adored me

and is this how you reward me?

If I were you, I’d hang my head in shame.

 

You’re going to cop it, Poppet

if you don’t let go and drop it.

Just stop it!

You are ruining our game!

 

Jenny Erlanger
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #41

poetry-prompt-41

Poem of the Day

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Tammy

 

As long as I live will I ever remember

Those bright eyes shining under the table,

Of a black and tan kelpie, who was silently saying:

“Will you be my friend? Can I be yours, too?

 

“Can we be friends?—yes! the best of. And if you

Love me, fun me, feed, and de-flea me,

I’ll guard and care for you, and ever be there,

For you’ll be my friend—yes!—and I’ll be yours, too.”

 

She was my ‘best of…’, and I loved her and kept her

Til, old, deaf and blind, she lay down and died.

Then gone were the walkies, my petting this pal,

But memories, good memories, will ever remain.

 

Memories, dear memories, so near and so dear,

Of a woofity pal who just wanted a friend.

Thanks, Mum, for Tammy, with her bright eyes so shining,

Who sat ’neath the table waiting for me.

Bridh Hancock
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27

saffy1

Poem of the Day

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There is a special place in our hearts and souls

That can only be filled by someone

who instinctively understands us,

Loves us unconditionally,

Is never demanding of our love and attention

But is always grateful for it.

 

That’s why pets are family.

Sioban Timmer
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27

saffy1

Sioban says: This piece was written for a friend after their dog died. Pets especially dogs are so the ultimate carers, they bring so much to our lives and expect so little in return. Cats on the other hand…..

Poem of the Day

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Jimmy

by Pat Simmons

 

This is where we used to walk

On the beach

I collect driftwood

All different shapes and sizes

Jimmy would fetch the small pieces

I smash them against the rock

I pick up some pumice stone

It’s light and scrunchy, like a macaroon

Jimmy was so heavy

Especially when he got wet

I scrunch the pumice stone

It crumbles to dust

I see a rat

It scuttles behind a rock, sinister and sneaky

Jimmy chased rats and barked at them

I touch and tickle the sand with my toes

There are millions of grains – too many to count

Jimmy liked to dig in the sand

I sort some shells

No-one’s living in them now

They’re empty and quiet

Like my place

Coloured glass glitters

Smoothed by the sea water

Mum calls it treasure

She says Jimmy was a treasure

Near the waves seaweed settles

Someone told me you can eat it

Jimmy used to chew it and spit it out

That made me laugh

I discover a dead seagull

Was it old when it died?

I bet Jimmy would roll on it

And come home smelly

A plastic bag floats in front of me

It shouldn’t be here

But I wish Jimmy was

I watch an old man and his dog

Looking out at the blueness

His dog barks at the seagulls

Just like Jimmy

I grin, remembering.

I think I spy sea monsters hiding in the waves

But I am alone.

Or am I?

I’m sure Jimmy’s watching me.

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

Prompt4

Poem of the Day

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M.Y.D.B.

Kate O’Neil

 

I hate it when it happens

and I bet you hate it too.

You’re just walking on the footpath

and there’s dog-poo on your shoe.

 

And your friends say ’Phew!

I don’t want to sit with you

‘cause you just trod in dog-poo

and there’s dog-poo on your shoe.”

 

I know the dogs can’t help it.

Dogs just do what dogs just do.

But, owners, when you walk your dogs,

please collect the poo.

 

  • Author comment: “M.Y.D.B.” is to be ‘published’ as a laminated sign on the grassy footpath near a Bush-care site I work on. For obvious reasons.

Poem of the Day

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My dog Jazzy

by Gabrielle Bryden

 

Best friends can be short or tall
bright or quiet

booky or sporty
anything at all,
mine just happens to be
a goofy, woolly, poodly, woodly
labradoodley type beastie
with a coat of gold,
soft as marshmallows.
Pinkest tongue, cool wet nose
that reminds me when
a hug is due,
boofy head that rests on my legs
like I’m the best pillow
ever,
following me

from room to room,
my loyal shadow, liquid eyes
of chocolate brown,
forever sad
even when eating,
but a shaggy, waggy tail
reveals a heart filled with happy
jazzy, fizzy stuff
that bubbles all around me,
tickling me with

love.