With two meanings and a poem about each
I
"Here Lies, the
Last Dog
To Crap in This Yard"
Random corner lot with patchy grass
Dual tired pickup owner, cantankerous,
got tired
got wired
got to thinking,
about why his
yard was stinking,
looked out the back
nothing there to attack
looked out the front window,
rising
sun pooched a crescendo,
as it rose,
he stood, cigarette and coffee,
the order of the day,
other hand on the hood,
of his red neck tribute, a Ford truck
but that odor,
that smell,
he felt unwell
spinning, more like reeling,
he had a nauseous feeling,
that some dog was crapping in his yard,
excrement was on the breeze,
silhouetted by the bright yellow ball,
was the last dog to crap in his yard,
he grabbed his shotgun with ease,
pulled the trigger, buried the dog,
No one saw, everyone heard, when the
police showed up not a word was said,
not a witness could be found, as each knew,
in that 'hood, that dog got around,
to every yard in turn, the sign is all
that remains, a warning and a refrain,
this neighbourhood,
may have ****** lawns
do not get caught doing your business at dawn.
II
"Here Lies, the
Last Dog
To Crap in This Yard"
They both sit a the table to eat a meal,
from where they will look at the dog bed,
by the dog bowls, and then look away,
just as fast,
it is the past
and recent loss,
of their beloved dog Boss,
beautiful boy, who died to soon,
left them alone, together,
such a calm and gentle giant,
one that they had become reliant,
to share
their journeys,
their truck trips,
their walks in the waning sun,
life,
until that terrible day,
when she called to say,
Boss had been hit, saving a toddler
crossing the road, the boy was okay,
but not the dog, "Come Home Quick,
please,"
he did and they rushed the dog to the vet,
it was awful, everyone was a wreck,
and then the vet called them in to the back,
to give the news that Boss was going fast,
he could do nothing to make his life, ...
soon he would take a breath and breathe his last,
they nodded and said "Put him down",
they went and looked him in the eye,
through sobs they said "goodbye"
Days later, they went back, to get the
urn of his ashes, he liked their lawn,
he loved the grasses,
so they decided, then that they would
never leave or sell, but buried him there,
in that spot where the sun first landed,
every summer morn,
summer was the season of Boss,
now they were at a total loss,
as each morning began with mourning.
But Boss will always be nearby.
And the sign above that spot read,
"Here Lies, the Last Dog To Crap in This Yard"
For they would never own another.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
With two meanings and a poem about each
I
"Here Lies, the
Last Dog
To Crap in This Yard"
Random corner lot with patchy grass
Dual tired pickup owner, cantankerous,
got tired
got wired
got to thinking,
about why his
yard was stinking,
looked out the back
nothing there to attack
looked out the front window,
rising
sun pooched a crescendo,
as it rose,
he stood, cigarette and coffee,
the order of the day,
other hand on the hood,
of his red neck tribute, a Ford truck
but that odor,
that smell,
he felt unwell
spinning, more like reeling,
he had a nauseous feeling,
that some dog was crapping in his yard,
excrement was on the breeze,
silhouetted by the bright yellow ball,
was the last dog to crap in his yard,
he grabbed his shotgun with ease,
pulled the trigger, buried the dog,
No one saw, everyone heard, when the
police showed up not a word was said,
not a witness could be found, as each knew,
in that 'hood, that dog got around,
to every yard in turn, the sign is all
that remains, a warning and a refrain,
this neighbourhood,
may have ****** lawns
do not get caught doing your business at dawn.
II
"Here Lies, the
Last Dog
To Crap in This Yard"
They both sit a the table to eat a meal,
from where they will look at the dog bed,
by the dog bowls, and then look away,
just as fast,
it is the past
and recent loss,
of their beloved dog Boss,
beautiful boy, who died to soon,
left them alone, together,
such a calm and gentle giant,
one that they had become reliant,
to share
their journeys,
their truck trips,
their walks in the waning sun,
life,
until that terrible day,
when she called to say,
Boss had been hit, saving a toddler
crossing the road, the boy was okay,
but not the dog, "Come Home Quick,
please,"
he did and they rushed the dog to the vet,
it was awful, everyone was a wreck,
and then the vet called them in to the back,
to give the news that Boss was going fast,
he could do nothing to make his life, ...
soon he would take a breath and breathe his last,
they nodded and said "Put him down",
they went and looked him in the eye,
through sobs they said "goodbye"
Days later, they went back, to get the
urn of his ashes, he liked their lawn,
he loved the grasses,
so they decided, then that they would
never leave or sell, but buried him there,
in that spot where the sun first landed,
every summer morn,
summer was the season of Boss,
now they were at a total loss,
as each morning began with mourning.
But Boss will always be nearby.
And the sign above that spot read,
"Here Lies, the Last Dog To Crap in This Yard"
For they would never own another.
Neither poem is true, and if you laughed at the first and shed a tear in the second, thank you.
The sign is real though.
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