Subject: Dog poems, some sad.
Posted by: postal315
Date: Mar 01 11
My dog listens when I talk
She goes with me for a walk
When I sleep, she's sleepy too;
She does everything I do.
I never do a thing but she
Thinks it is alright for me.
When I speak, she always minds;
She shares with me things she finds.
When other people say I'm bad,
She hangs her head and looks so sad.
She cuddles up and laps my hand,
And tells me she can understand.
-anon
Posted by: postal315
Date: Mar 01 11
My dog listens when I talk
She goes with me for a walk
When I sleep, she's sleepy too;
She does everything I do.
I never do a thing but she
Thinks it is alright for me.
When I speak, she always minds;
She shares with me things she finds.
When other people say I'm bad,
She hangs her head and looks so sad.
She cuddles up and laps my hand,
And tells me she can understand.
-anon
16 replies. On page 1 of 1 pages. 1
purcy 
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A Little Dog Angel High up in the courts of heaven today a little dog angel waits; with the other angels he will not play, but he sits alone at the gates. "For I know my master will come" says he, "and when he comes he will call for me." The other angels pass him by As they hurry toward the throne, And he watches them with a wistful eye as he sits at the gates alone. "But I know if I just wait patiently that someday my master will call for me." And his master, down on earth below, as he sits in his easy chair, forgets sometimes, and whispers low to the dog who is not there. And the little dog angel cocks his ears and dreams that his master's voice he hears. And when at last his master waits outside in the dark and cold, for the hand of death to open the door, that leads to those courts of gold, he will hear a sound through the gathering dark, a little dog angel's bark. Noah M. Holland Reply #1. Mar 01 11, 3:30 PM |
postal315
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Mother doesn't want a dog. Mother says they smell And never sit when you say sit Or even when you yell. And when you come home late at night And there is ice and snow You have to go back out because The dumb dog has to go. Mother doesn't want a dog. Mother says they shed And always let the strangers in And bark at friends instead And do disgraceful things on rugs Aand track mud on the floor And flop upon your bed at night And snore their doggy snore. Mother doesn't want a dog. She's making a mistake Because, more than a dog, I think She will not want this snake. --anon Reply #2. Mar 01 11, 3:33 PM |
mhenson400
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Beau by Jimmy Stewart http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUNJjIwlHk8 Reply #3. Mar 01 11, 6:35 PM |
| postal315
|
I love those! Jimmy Stewart really was a dog lover. the poem is so touching. Reply #4. Mar 02 11, 5:32 AM |
| postal315
|
My Dog Who knows my every step, My nature and its mood? Who forgets my anger And helps me not waste food? Who coaxes me to play And sits at my command? Who shares my heavy load With brown eyes that understand Who guards my humble home And to my chair lays claim? Who loves without question And tracks in with the rain? MY DOG, MY FRIEND----GOD BLESS HIM--anon. Reply #5. Mar 09 11, 12:45 PM |
blindcat78
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Dixie these poems are so sweet! Reply #6. Mar 12 11, 7:23 PM |
| postal315
|
Glad you're enjoying them! The Litte Black Dog I wonder if Christ had a little black dog All curly and woolly like mine With silky ears and nose round and wet And two brown and tender eyes that shine I'm sure if He had, that litle black dog Knew right from the start He was God; That he needed no proof that Christ was divine But worshiped the ground that He trod. I'm afraid that He didn't, because I have read How he prayed in the garden alone For all of His friends and disciples had fled Even Peter, the one called a stone. And oh I am sure that little black dog, With heart so tender and warm Would never have left Him to suffer alone But creeping right under His arm Would have licked those fingers in agony clasped And counting all favors but loss When they took Him away would have trotted behind And followed Him right to the cross. Sunday poem---anon. Reply #7. Mar 13 11, 11:05 AM |
| postal315
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Ode to a Lady Fancier Now---what shall I wear to the dog show? My dress, or my sweater and skirt? In my blue, to be sure, I look quite demure. In my red, I look more alert! My black is so sophisticated, It sets all the handlers agog--- Yes! It does look quite lush, And now I must rush--- Heavens! I've forgotten my dog! .anon Reply #8. Mar 13 11, 11:14 AM |
| postal315
|
The Outside Dog---anon. I wish someone would tell me What it is that I've done wrong. Why I have to stay chained up and left alone so long. They seemed so glad to have me when I came here as a pup. There were so many things we'd do while I was growing up. They couldn't wait to train me as a companion and a friend. And told me how they'd never fear being left alone again. The children said they'd feed me and brush me everyday. They'd play with me and walk me if I could only stay. But now the family "hasn't time" they often say I shed. They do not want me in the house not even to be fed. The children never walk me they always say "Not now!" I wish that I could please them won't someone tell me how? All I had, you see, was love. I wish they would explain Why they said they wanted me then left me on a chain. Reply #9. May 24 11, 8:21 PM |
turbotude
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That last poem brought tears to my eyes! Reply #10. May 24 11, 10:43 PM |
| postal315
|
*tissue alert* I'm really a softie too, I can't watch "Marley and Me" without bawling up a storm. I've seen it at least 20 times! But it gets me every time. Reply #11. May 24 11, 11:25 PM |
| postal315
|
Here's another *tissue alert* A Dog Sits Waiting A dog sits waiting in the hot midday sun Too faithful to leave, too frightened to run. He's been there for days now with nothing to do But sit by the road, just waiting for you. He can't understand why you left him that day He thought you were stopping to go with him to play. He's sure you'll come back and that's why he stays How long can he suffer, how many more days? His legs have grown weak: His throat's parched and dry. He's sick now from hunger, he falls with a sigh. He lays down his head, he closes his eyes. I wish you could see how a waiting dog dies. By Kathie Flood This was written as a fund raiser for ASPCA, The Humane Society Reply #12. Jul 04 11, 2:44 PM |
supersal1
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Not a poem, but worth reading, sorry if it makes you cry. I died today....You got tired of me and took me to the shelter. They were overcrowded and I drew an unlucky number. I am in a black plastic bag in a landfill now. Some other puppy will get the barely used leash you left. My collar was dirty and too small, but the lady took it off before she sent me to the Rainbow Bridge. Would I still be at home if I hadn’t chewed your shoe? I didn’t know what it was, but it was leather, and it was on the floor. I was just playing. You forgot to get puppy toys. Would I still be at home if I had been housebroken? Rubbing my nose in what I did only made me ashamed that I had to go at all. There are books and obedience teachers that would have taught you how to teach me to go to the door. Would I still be at home if I hadn’t brought fleas into the house? Without anti-flea medicine, I couldn’t get them off of me after you left me in the yard for days. Would I still be at home if I hadn’t barked? I was only saying, “I’m scared, I’m lonely, I’m here, I’m here! I want to be your best friend.” Would I still be at home if I had made you happy? Hitting me didn’t make me learn how. Would I still be at home if you had taken the time to care for me and to teach manners to me? You didn’t pay attention to me after the first week or so, but I spent all my time waiting for you to love me. I died today. Love, Your Puppy Reply #13. Sep 23 11, 1:29 AM |
| supersal1
|
And here's another, happier one - ode to a rehomed greyhound I didn't really want you, I wasn't really sure And I'll admit I had my doubts when you first came through that door Not small, or cute, or fluffy, with big soft puppy eyes, But tall and thin and bony, with bald pink bulging thighs. You weren't the kind I had in mind, not in any way. Perhaps it would be better, if I took you back today Before we know each other, it really won't be kind, To keep you here for one more day and then to change my mind. But against my better judgement, I decided you could stay and quickly I discovered, you were kind in every way. Your gentleness and patience really stole the show "Why! These dogs are wonderful, I must let others know" You're my gentle giant, who just needed a chance, To show us all what you could be, to wipe away that history. Dispel our preconceptions, that put us all to shame and so we come to know and love, what lies beneath that frame. And now I've come to understand, what I missed right at the start, That Greyhounds need that great deep chest... To house their great big hearts. Reply #14. Sep 23 11, 1:34 AM |
| postal315
|
That's a Greyhound to a T. Yes, the essay did make me cry a little, but if it would save one poor puppy by making someone think twice about dog ownership, I don't mind. We sometimes get an impulse pet, I've been guilty in the past myself. just a little bit of time and care can change a dog so much. Thanks for the reminder. Reply #15. Sep 23 11, 1:14 PM |
ElusiveDream
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Oh, what is the matter with poor Puggy-Wug? Pet him and kiss him and give him a hug. Run and fetch him a suitable drug. Wrap him up tenderly all in a rug. That is the way to cure Puggy-Wug. Reply #16. May 04 13, 11:46 PM |
16 replies. On page 1 of 1 pages. 1
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