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Prachi Oct 18
What can be bigger a crime,
Than abusing someone;
Who has a heart as you have,
Who is as much alive as you;

Their inability to express,
Through words doesn’t give
You the rights to harass them;
Let alone taking undue advantage.

True utilization of your voice
Would be to speak for those who can’t,
And do not forget that you are
Nothing but a social animal yourself.
Seen poets express
Deep thoughts
In a few lines
My deep regards
I struggle express
In a Hundred lines
I a poet
I doubt
Dog poet
Or barking dog?

she laid there on the carpet
like a fuzzy brown pillow
i could see her mid-mass
slowly rise and fall

small twitchings of her paws
caught my eye as she began
running in a yard of dreams,
expressing her excitement for 

a rear leg jerks followed by another
but they never seem to coordinate,
all the same i know she dogtrots
quickly in her vast green parcel

i think now her goal has just
been reached, her legs are
straight and she is softly
barking muted "yes"s
through her nostrils—

her tail wags significantly,
dissipating quietly vented
puppy treats...

"sleep dog"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

this was witnessed,"element for element"
one evening in 2008 under a mild sky'd
evening with the windows open—

i saw her doing this and i then
commenced to writing...
Clliedekev Oct 4
What she doesn’t believe in
can’t **** her. She can’t
disbelieve the barrel hoist,
overgrown pirate hook,
heavy as cinder block,
or millstone - if she knew
the weight. The dog’s wolf
ears broad at attention,
its image a sun-yellowed
photo. Only half its barks
made a sound, as
the Deacon’s cap never
moved in the whirlwind motion
Of lift and descend, lift
And descend. His eyes
angry and lost, confused.
She has seen this before
dementia, the final stages.
But he was a different dementia.
Each swing he took,
she would flake off
into a pale rain of flour.
Settling on the damp
floor of the woods,
Her cells dirt-absorbed
Into nutrients, then nothing.  

The Deacon followed the woodline.
His two hands hold the stone
like a mother from a burning room.
The dog moving at every inch
towards the heels of her boots.
His thick brown eyes pin
her shadow to the ground.
He dodges through the thicket,
Through tree, his fur forces
The path at bay. She isn’t afraid.
She’s tossing, not turning,
her attention to the man’s
ancient actions that fill the
forest thick with noise and fear.
Her pace a body dumped
into adrenal space,
a bulging branch pushing
Into her, she moves over
broken elm’s frame, the splayed body
of rot oak, of vines, of stickers
crossing the deer trails pulling
at her cheeks until the entire
landscape is her enemy.
In her last chance, she falls into
curses and memories of her
sister’s scared legs. The stove
Too hot; her mother too gone.
Salvation always comes too late.

She is still thinking of her date.
As she ducks back into the net
Of trees, the smell of camouflage.
How he called her ‘Suzy Angel”,
she thinks of him left in the
car. She’s not faulting him for
trying to ***** her. Quiet lunch
date at the old bar near the pond.
She tried to go back to help him.
The Deacon was still there, his form
catblack as the afternoon grew thick
deaf ears. The bar was too far down
the road, it was empty now,
devoid of a human’s life. Ghost born.
The bartender’s red hair pushed
into the Last Chance coasters.
A morbid reminder that prayer
has no place in the house of the unreal.

Hopkin’s Pond holds more hills
than the average Jersey landscape.
A scrape out of time, pinned
somewhere between suburban
sham and the endless exit ramps.
Its history poured back to the 1780s,
the Mill long since is gone, foundation
Buried in the thick ravages of mud.
The river that surged its body full, dead.
The shadow of the man that lived
there not. No child’s tale told if he was
A real Deacon, or whether the title
came later. Legends sound better
left unidentified, songs with no
real meanings. Verse, chorus,
The myth of a final ending. His dog
came after, black and shaggy,
loup-garou large and then willed back
into a farm dog - mixed lost wolf
plus pointer, Its teeth ragged as
the spur wheel that ground
The wheat down into grist.
No one wishes for this to be true.
Varsha K Sep 16
Humans showed me sympathy
But dogs taught me empathy
Humans said, "You give me depression!"
My dog said, "Leave it & scratch me in slow motion!"
Remembering the good times and things that my baby taught me!
Cait Sep 11
Love is a Labrador
waiting eagerly at the door
for your arrival
to bay with joy unchecked
at your entrance--
slobbering passionate kisses
all over your hands, face, neck, arms,
                        knees, toes--
And you embrace love--
call it by name and praise it.

Love is a walk around the block
with fresh enthusiasm for the
same old weeds.

It enjoys the simple pleasures.
In memory of my beloved companion, Beau. I wrote this several years ago with him in mind, and he passed last week. It felt appropriate to publish now.
Norman Crane Aug 25
Wild dogs of the veldt
stocking shelves in aisle three
     stalking gazelles
with me in supermarkets
     in Savannah
Predatory packs of discount snacks
Toto on the radio
but Georgia always on my mind
Yes, ma'am, I will gladly help you find
     the best watering hole
     this side of my primitive soul
But, pray, don't leave me in the morningtime
before I've got the chance to find
a ride home
Mitch Prax Aug 21
I guess our dream
of owning a dalmatian
doesn't matter
Simon Aug 11
Simply wanting (as their very fate is meant to become that of a very HIGHLY sophisticated "veterinarian")! Who's sole purpose is cut into a very simple, but complex...double sided coin. Issuing a non-collapsing development that regulates (very steadily) for how a foundation is essentially formed. A foundation that ignites it's own simulation for "two sides of the same coin"! One that "shows-off" everything in it's entirety. To be that of a situation (where nothing of course ever seems too go right)... Except within one's own mindset (too agree upon). Which is governed by this very ample "opportunist" simulation! The double sided coin isn't measured by it's interests upon the measures it takes too invoke such an option. As it pays both width and length over a long period of time... Until you've come too the most "settlement" rule...imaginable! How do you balance one thing within another that are two completely separable things made too be within the same establishment? You get your most very fortunate master! A master who is (more than "fortunate") when pleading to their very own instrumenting way of looking at things. (Not too mention the "eternal" world around them!) A more than plentiful and abstract point of view for displaying what it is, that they truly wanted too begin with (first and foremost). The veterinarian part had become valid, thou. Constructed too a halt! The idea where dogs, guinea pigs, birds and other household critters (of ALL types)! Could correctly "intermingle" into one justice system! A justice system that is within both the control and guidance of the such very fortunate master that neither screams or cries over a very "dissociation" state that could completely corrupt their animals into not intermingling...correctly! But they do not submit politely! They rise onward with ferocity in their very hearts! They face the world..."head-on"! And doesn't fully expect something else in return.... Well, except their number one fan (who isn't important right now)... While doing what they essentially do best! (Which is bringing in the last side of that very coin. ) Too essentially create the very foundation that would tame (not only the establishments that have yet too occur correctly)... But most importantly the very simulation that was ignited (as if by the mere blessing of a silly little "spark") that ignited the "flame of progress", itself! Especially the ferocity in the very fortunate masters very heart. Guppies, tetras, loaches, cory catfish, nerite snails. Not to mention the most favorable upon the very fortunate masters collection... The "bettas"! Which is a little too much for the other smaller "fishy critters" too handle all at one...single time. So their very fortunate master keeps track of their own internal time clock...wisely. (ONLY...until it's actually time!) In order to find a better housing habitat for it's MOST prized possession! All the while the birds (on the other side of that coin) disrupt their very fortunate masters mere concentration while playing with their very essential jewelry they always wore! (Breaking it in the slow-paced slog that is..."animal daycare"!) While the dogs themselves love laying on their very fortunate masters body (thinking it's the softest device too use as a mere bed)! Especially when the guinea pigs (of that lot) slither in and out of (ANY and ALL) of their very fortunate masters clothing (you NAME it)! Pockets and hoodies! Not ever settling down (as their supposed to essentially be doing) until the very command coming straight from their very fortunate masters "tone of charge"! ALL the animals very fortunate master sometimes isn't always aware of what they "solely" want...(at first). Thou, slowly but surely they come too FULL terms with it. (Making a decision that is of the worthy complex circumstance...of what they essentially want too do with their very lives!) Especially with the (GREATER than most) help from a (once complete stranger who had...up too this point in time)... Had now become their most trusting ally in the fight too secure the line of both (who they are, and what they essentially want to become). Which is both too run a "fish rescue"! And to (sooner rather than later).... Is too also run a..."vet clinic"! PS... Also to have A LOT of dogs and EXTRA fish because of that very interest (when also feeding their "slightly but sad"...ego)!
This is (once again) another poem about a very "special" friend of mine... Kyle! Who is wanting to reveal a little (more than of it's very certainty) full of specifics about themselves. Gratifying that very pleasure over the (possible) consequence of their very will to make good choices...upon their very classified decision-making!
E Jul 19
Dogs and cats
Laughing in the summer rain
***** looks
Working through our love and pain
Not much longer
Nothing will ever be the same
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