"arf" poems
Samson-bound between book shelves,
in the New Aeon Section,
a pale youth nourishes his ego on
bombastic conjunctive adverbs.
(An imagined sea lion balances a
striped ball on the tip of his
snout & slaps his fins in
frenzied approval. Arf. Arf.)
Though absent, the ring master
smiles from the realms of irony.
He holds the bearded lady by the
burl & orders a reception for
the new act.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
there's a lone seal swimming by the sea
hunting for silvers with heartless glee
a fish shy there, another one wiggling there
who really cares
for his table always set for one
darkness his day in the sun
still he takes to the rolling tides
lone, but ******* in his pride
one day his eyes pique a double look
as a mermaid pops out of his storybook
stunning as a little light filters in
as she swooshes by, waving her fins
she's a sparkled beauty from head to toe
her consonance and shine, lighting his mojo
growing hunger and his drive keep following her
on the ocean floor she shimmers
between the rocks she dances
one step she be in harmony to his glances
he drives a barked out calling
so raw and appalling
shivers crawling down her back
as he arf, arf's another attack
alarmed with his lack of renaissance
like she should be, she didn't offer a response
as she keeps shimmering past the rocks
racing, racing away from any further talk
broken, he retreats to his mind
the missing piece he'll never find
there's a lone mermaid swimming by the sea
and a lone seal barking of what could be
Logan Robertson
11/13/2017
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 7:13 PM UTC
A sportin' death! My word it was!
An' taken in a sportin' way.
Mind you, I wasn't there to see;
I only tell you what they say.
They found that day at Shillinglee,
An' ran 'im down to Chillinghurst;
The fox was goin' straight an' free
For ninety minutes at a burst.
They 'ad a check at Ebernoe
An' made a cast across the Down,
Until they got a view 'ullo
An' chased i'm up to Kirdford town.
From Kirdford 'e run Bramber way,
An' took 'em over 'alf the Weald.
If you 'ave tried the Sussex clay,
You'll guess it weeded out the field.
Until at last I don't suppose
As 'arf a dozen, at the most,
Came safe to where the grassland goes
Switchbackin' southwards to the coast.
Young Captain 'Eadley, 'e was there,
And Jim the whip an' Percy Day;
The Purcells an' Sir Charles Adair,
An' this 'ere gent from London way.
For 'e 'ad gone amazin' fine,
Two 'undred pounds between 'is knees;
Eight stone he was, an' rode at nine,
As light an' limber as you please.
'E was a stranger to the 'Unt,
There weren't a person as 'e knew there;
But 'e could ride, that London gent--
'E sat 'is mare as if 'e grew there.
They seed the 'ounds upon the scent,
But found a fence across their track,
And 'ad to fly it; else it meant
A turnin' and a 'arkin' back.
'E was the foremost at the fence,
And as 'is mare just cleared the rail
He turned to them that rode be'ind,
For three was at 'is very tail.
'Ware 'oles!' says 'e, an' with the word,
Still sittin' easy on his mare,
Down, down 'e went, an' down an' down,
Into the quarry yawnin' there.
Some say it was two 'undred foot;
The bottom lay as black as ink.
I guess they 'ad some ugly dreams,
Who reined their 'orses on the brink.
'E'd only time for that one cry;
''Ware 'oles!' says 'e, an' saves all three.
There may be better deaths to die,
But that one's good enough for me.
For mind you, 'twas a sportin' end,
Upon a right good sportin' day;
They think a deal of 'im down 'ere,
That gent what came from London way.
3.6k
every so often
they threw the seal a fish
though it was only a small fish
the seal would jump for joy
he would wiggle his fins
his nose, his eyes
his space coming alive
and from his landing
he would dive into the water
with the youthfulness of a pup
diving after that little silver
like it was for the first time
his eyes wider than the moon
as he streaked across the pool
with pent up
exuberance
so graceful
and in rhythm
his back to the spectators
but not really
as his moon peeks through
the surface
back towards the smiles
the cheers, the applause
it meant the world to him
receiving
the acceptance
and acknowledgment
the likes, the love
the words from the butterflies
descending on his blooms
for
he sees and hears
feels their touches
his splashes of fate
leaving his face golden
and beholden
in the face of sorrow
he circles back to the surface
pockets of bubbles rising
like his love for the audience
that little silver
wiggles of his daily grace
now his sustenance
his nose, his eyes
his shrill coming alive
and now back at his landing
animated
and blessed
his moon shining at the spectators
and in all sincerity
he lets out an arf, arf, arf
intonations
and sublimity
dancing in the moonlight
thankyou
Logan Robertson
10/14/2018
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
God Almighty. It puts the fear in you.
Jesus Christ. Again?
Yes, again. Don’t be a ***
Oh please.
Jesus.
A hanging silence.
You know William Paley?
No. Go on.
Oh. Paley’s Watch?
******* go, James.*
Uh, Paley’s Watch is a theory that the universe is too complex to exist by chance, and therefore there must be a creator. I mean, just like the existence of a watch presupposes a watchmaker ‘cause it’s too complex to be there by chance.
And you eat that?
Yes, or something similar. What offends you so ******* much anyway? So I believe-
*It’s defeatist. Jesus Christ, the only reason you and anyone else believes this dogshit is ‘cause you’re ******* terrified of dying, and the reason a ******* graveyard puts the fear into your thick skull is ‘cause you want to join them when you croak. That’s what it is, it’s ******* insurance.*
Another silence.
Okay. Alright, fine, it’s insurance. But I am playing this insurance, see, into my benefit. I believe in the creator, and if it turns out he’s watching me he’ll put in the good word and I spend my afterlife in eternal sunshine, and if he’s a scam like you say it is I join you in blackness or hellfire. I win either way.
Oh, very faithful, doggy. Arf arf.
Oh, for the love-
*What’s life worth if you’re so sure where you’re going? I reckon I’d rather drink and steal **** and burn in hellfire than **** away my life in the service of some shitbird in the sky who may or may not exist.
Jesus, mother-*
Stop ******* blaspheming.
**** you, James.*
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC
close enough is never close enough
you either is or you aint
an arf an a quarter an an eighth is only sorta
an ya never gonna make da whole weight
coz yer always gonna be short
no matter if ya think ya ought
ya never ever gonna be my fukkn mate
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 4:23 PM UTC
“ Crow “
Whatcha stearin at ye scrawny bird
Ah’ll draped in black en
wi malachite eyes,
Whitcha Feathers in tatters
ah’ll covered in crud
Hoppin en skippin en lookin so wise,
Whydja squawk et mi in that orible way,
Whydja caw en caw en caw et mi
Ahs’tha reely got summat to say
Ah’stha reely got summat to say,
GEERCHA yer self bak up in’te sky
En leave mi alone wi mi beer,
If ye stay round ere
yel end up dead
yon fox el av yer i fear,
yon fox el av yer i fear
so leave mi alone wi mi beer.
Alan nettleton......... + bottle n arf o' whine...
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 7:23 AM UTC
"Arf! Arf!"
I can see him from afar
And oh - is that a ****
Yesterday he got hit by a car
It left him a big scar
As the years passed by
We noticed something different
It makes me want to cry
As the cancer cells destroyed his ligament
I didn't know he was sick
Until he was thin as stick
And my worst nightmare came
He's not the same, he became lame
Then he became blind
We traveled just to find
The medicines that he needed
But it was too late
His little sight and sound of us slowly faded
I guess it was the hurtful fate
He was not given to last forever
He was given for us to share memories together
For a short period of time
The sound "Arf Arf" became the best rhyme
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 7:35 AM UTC
Woof woof, arf.
Food, woof arf arf.
Wuff wooooo wooo
Arf arf,
Outside! Walk!? WRUF
Woof woof arf aaawooo
Woof arf--
Cuddles arf arf...
Arf woof aroof!
Let's go! Woof!
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 12:46 PM UTC
My dog is such a cat, you know.
Plays laser tag; meows for show!
She’s arf and arf it seems.
She plays with tangled skeins of yearns,
For hours and hours, and then she turns
To wander through my dreams.
I know they say that pets become
Their owners’ déjà vu’s--in sum,
Immeasurably similar.
So which is which,
Did my left brain twitch?
Is the dog her man’s exhibitor?
And scientists will disagree
About the causal origins.
So be it.
Ask **** and Jane.
Ask Spot, and then
Just simply a-b see it!
Meowff!!
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 3:08 PM UTC