"barks" poems
late night by the holland sill
white framed and frilled
alongside the meadow
down by the grand
where cat fish
and cow pies
and silly yellow bees
make their stay
there are swings now
and empty barns
(with quiet corners
and broken walls)
echoing chambers
that speak of the past
...and little dogs
not big ones
the plaster cracks
and wheat sways
from a warm west wind
it’s about time
for that late afternoon pour
you know how it cleans the soul
old percy would say
and flanders
(the holder of those pigs)
who fed us good
with sow and milk
as we plowed the
dusty fields
into the
hot summer sun
i can still hear the screams
of river shore dreams
the grand slams
and flints run dry
the barks
and breaks
and bends
a world past
with forbes
and dolls
and crab apple trees
think i’ll take a trip
up the back lane
they’ve cut the brush
and opened the line
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 4:46 PM UTC
I was just in the closet July 1988
Not a word was said; 'sept a couple of whispers and an obvious desire to ****
Mop buckets, the heat, and the stink of her *****
Petulant hands and harsh fingers as staggered breaths tell a tale;
knickers and pants half pulled down,
Hard truths pushing through,
I had to **** her from behind,
Very confined, quick, clumsy, ****** release.
We both staggered out; her mate was much older and waiting outside, bold as brass, she looks me up and down all tough and barks assertively "i'm next!" and **** I was back in the closet 1988
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 5:05 PM UTC
Christmas Eve was coming
There was plenty to be done
There were protocols to follow
There were programs to be run
Presents needed wrapping
Elves had duties of their own
They've been doing it for centuries
They could call Christmas in by phone
Reindeer games were scheduled
Christmas Carols to be sung
There were toys to be assembled
There were bells that must be wrung
Christmas Cakes...no problem
For we all know there's just one
It gets passed around each Christmas
And that is half the fun
But, back now to the reindeer games
Donner wasn't there
But, neither were three others
It gave Santa Claus a scare
He called the elven vet in
Said "find out what it wrong"
"If I don't have all my reindeer"
"It'll ruin Rudolph's song"
The vet came back directly
Hoof and mouth was what he said
The reindeer must miss Christmas
They were all confined to bed
Santa couldn't take it
Reindeer home...what would he do?
He thought real hard about an answer
Where would he find something that flew
The vet said, "I've an answer"
"But, no questions...just your trust"
"I'll get your gifts delivered Santa"
"I just need your magic dust"
Santa said "do your best Doctor"
"We can't have Christmas end like this"
"Are you sure you have an answer?"
"We can't give Christmas time a miss"
The vet and elves went searching
They formed a team like none before
They went around to the animals
And then they knocked on Santa's door
Santa looked at what they'd brought him
His reindeer gone, but here they stood
A team had been assembled
It made Santa sink into his hood
Harnessed up before him
The vet had two dogs and a bear
A ****** goat, and donkey
And a bald, blind cat...stood there
He smiled and said "Dear Santa"
"They may not look like that much now"
"But, they'll get you where you need to be"
"And they'll be led by a brown cow"
If you hear some noises
From your roof, like bleats and barks
Some, meowing or some mooing
And other strange sounds in the dark
Remember, it's just Santa
With his new team for the season
Rex, Rolf, Billy, Ben, Bessie, Joe, and Mike
and a bald, blind cat who's freezin'
Merry Christmas to all and to all....don't look up!!
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 8:37 PM UTC
Let me trade in my smile for fangs
And my feminine fingers for paws.
Let me trade in my manicured nails for claws
And my curly locks for silver fur.
Let me trade my heart shaped mouth for a long snout
And the freckles on my nose for whiskers.
Let me trade my curves for a round, bushy tail
And my clumsiness for strength and agility.
Let me trade my tears for whimpers and barks
And my voice for howls in the night.
Let me trade my dinner reservations for hunting down a moose
And my poor senses for keen ears and a nose.
Let me trade my soul for a different one
And become a friend to the moon.
Let me live my life as a wolf
And all that it encompasses.
Let me symbolize the dawn and the dusk
And let me symbolize the converging of light and darkness.
Because that is wolf,
And that is what I see, when I look in the mirror.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
There, in God’s country, the benign ruler
Had promptly burst out of the earth’s bowels.
A sea of coconuts smothered, sultrily,
The most unwilling moss-painted houses
The banyan raised its feet high enough
For hundreds of creepy monsoon-creatures.
The journey began in silver slanting rain
Waiting for streaks of pure white sunshine
To crawl through upright areca nut barks.
As the telephone wires went up and down
A floating bird quickly froze in the sky.
First the coconut fronds ran to the hills
Then the chilly plants , go red in the face
Inside, they of the uncertain *** beat the wind
Out of their joined palms in forced cadence.
The floor-mopping boy under our large feet
Looked with money-wetness in his brown eyes.
The train went spluttering for lack of puff
While gravel stones hit its forbidden parts.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 10:36 PM UTC
The old dog barks backwards without getting up.
I can remember when he was a pup.
8.7k
We lie here - our bodies quiet in the late night heat
Off in the distance a dog barks as it’s master stirs and
in the fields the crickets give their last gasps of the day
A party lightens up a far away terrace as the wine flows and a secret flirt takes place as a gecko flits across a stucco wall, stops and moves again
And in this still heat our bodies merge - become one and we grow together
The far off waves of a Mediterranean Sea lap the silken sand
As we become one once more
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
In the dimly lit chamber, we set the scene.
An owner and his pet, a game of primal and prey.
She kneels like an eager dog, a collar around her neck.
He stomps his feet and keeps her obedience at play.
The owner, like a magician, keeps tricks up his sleeve.
He wants his pet to learn— to be his student and please.
Commanding her to crawl, to fetch and beg.
Waiting for him to call her a good little pet.
She barks and whimpers, a puppy in passion.
Spins three times and licks her master’s feet without a whine.
The pet surrenders to her master’s might.
She delivers his sturdy leather boots in a straight line.
With a flick of the whip, the pet curls in elation.
Her master chuckles at her sounds of temptation.
Submitting to the cynicism of ******* and discipline.
She is flogged like a plebeian, forgetting she’s a citizen.
Pet and master, a bond so strong.
The two are bound by zeal, craving one another.
She wallows in the comfort of her belly rubs and treats.
And runs around with a rush of red in color.
She goes through treacherous training.
And yelps if she’s ever caught complaining.
Waiting for a tasteful gift: the eternity collar.
When she is ready, he puts it on with honor.
Jun 16, 2024
Jun 16, 2024 at 6:25 PM UTC
.
Midnight sees a chain
of lights,
heading into the forest
so dark.
Follow the Will-O the Wisp
at night,
walk with the lone wolf
that barks.
Take that step into the unknown, the path that leads to me,
and I'll be waiting there somewhere, deep within the trees.
So walk that long path
in peace,
follow your dream as
it winds.
Keep purpose in plain sight
to release,
love that is not left
behind.
© Pagan Paul (13/01/19)
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 10:16 AM UTC
Stroller parks
Evil eyes
Parents' barks
Children cries
Crowded places
Gluttonous bites
Staring faces
Long-line rides
Not coming back
Till I know
It won't be packed
Like a sold out show.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
When you give a girl a dog you give her a best friend
Her hand becomes forever intertwined with a paw
She will rush home for school and run to hug her best friend
As she gets older she will confide in the dog
She will wait for her dog to be next to her before she starts crying
When she cries she will only feel better when her dog rests their head on hers
She will run to the dog whenever she is scared or sick
She will find comfort in the dog when she panics
Her dog will make everything seem better
When the dog begins to get old she will refuse to believe it
She will not accept that she will lose her best friend
Until you come home and tell her she only has one more day
She will cry and sit with the dog for hours
She will spend all her money on treats for the dog the night before
She will become numb to the world around her when she says goodbye
She will want another dog immediately so she can try not to think about it
She will refuse to think about it
Until she calls out for her dog, her baby, her Pepper and does not hear the click of her best friend's nails on the floor
She will wait for the barks that begin at 4:30 every night
She will lay where she used to with the dog
She will cry every time she thinks about her baby
She will yearn for the barks that once annoyed her or the constant barks
She will miss feeding her dog under the table
Or the times when they would dance together
The feeling of her thick fur under her hands
Or the fur that would somehow end up everywhere
She will feel as though there is no light without her dog
But she knows that those 12 years 88 days were the best of her life
She will never want to trade anything for that time
The laughter through the tears when she finds an old photo will change everything
She will remember that she shall reunite with her dog at the Rainbow Bridge
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 4:10 PM UTC
Danger
It’s a trap
Don’t go in there
Beware the dog
Who both barks and bites
Brilliant steel overhead
False bottoms
Coils spring to life
It’s a trap
Fall in
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
I stand on the scale
I look at the number
I'm fat
I way over 140lbs
What am I doing wrong?
I barely eat anything
She steps off the scale
Walks over to the counter
And opens the cupboard
Peanut butter
She untwists the twisty ties
Grabs two pieces of white bread
Places them in the toaster slots
Pulls down the lever
For ten seconds
Pulls it up
Pulls it down
Waits ten more seconds
Pulls it up
Takes it out
Spreads the peanutty butter across the crisp edges
Starts eating it
Nom nom nom
Her dog moves close to the counter
And begs
She walks away
Drops a few crumbs
And the dog eats it up
And follows her into the living room
And looks up
Nom nom nom nom
She just looks at the dog
Puts her bare foot against his nose
Which is cold
And the dog doesn't even move
Sticks his tongue outside his mouth
And breathes quickly
Stupid
She puts her foot back down
And moves it against the rug a few times
Then walks into the kitchen
And opens a bag
Of salt and vinegar chips
Starts eating them
Nom nom nom nom
Dog catches the crumbs and slides against the kitchen floor
She walks back upstairs
And the dog follows her
To her room
She shuts the door
And the dog starts scratching through the bottom
And barks
She just lays in her bed
Eating
The dog barks again
She opens the door
And pushes him
With her right foot
Down the stairs
He tumbles down the stairs and hits the kitchen floor
He races back up
Gets pushed back down
Dog runs away
She walks towards the bathroom
And uses the other scale
And she sees that it says 141 lbs
I've only been eating for a few minutes
Errrr
She closes the bag of chips
And stomps downstairs
And places the bag on the counter
Dog waits in the living room
Right next to the kitchen
His food bowl is empty
No water
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
Something awful happened late last night,
And here I lie awake at six AM
Upon the sand of Santa Monica.
The cars drive by, but I don’t notice them.
I used up all my gas to get away
From the ****** pond on my bathroom rug.
It’s more than bleach can handle and I’m scared
That I’ve found a more seductive drug.
Fish intestines line the pier and I
Feel no misery for gutless souls.
The rocks are caked in birdshit, kelp and shells
And, as if in mourning, the cormorant calls.
Upon the rusty handrails, seagulls gossip
Just like feathered girls with brains, persisting
To trumpet my depravity in savage squawks,
And to harass the rest of us for existing.
The white-wimpled, cruel, sadistic nuns
Choose an injured sea lion as their prey.
Cowardly, they flee at his sharp barks–
It’s guts that will decide who wins today.
***** creep over the brown-furred body.
Fighting for its life, it bites the shell
And kills its fellow lifeform. When given
The chance, I’ll defend myself as well.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
TEACHING TIMOTHY TO READ
( for Maureen )
She is teaching Timothy
to read
even though she
can't read herself.
Tongue firmly in cheek
she traces the words
with a tiny fingertip
that knows the story
off by heart she
could read it in the dark.
She is "pretending reading."
She has my every nuance and pause
by rote
making great efforts
to teach Timothy
the puppy
but Timothy the puppy
is more interested in
the un-thrown stick.
Timothy the puppy thinks this reading lark is
strictly for the humans.
"Once..." she begins
in a Fairy Tale-ish voice.
Timothy the puppy
barks in acknowledgement.
"Throwthestickthrowthestick!"
Timothy the Puppy's mind thinks.
"...upon a time
a long long time
...ago!"
Timothy the puppy looks
adoringly at his little mistress
with such an immensity of love and
licks her finger as it
travels over the words
the story's journey.
"Oh you..!" she scolds
"...are not even paying attention!"
"It's no good...I give up!"
she frowns at the unhappy creature
throwing the book away
in a prissy hissy fit.
Timothy the puppy
full of the joys of
a dog's life
( it's the only life he knows )
chases the fluttering pages
that fly like an exotic bird
brings Hans Christian Anderson back
his mouth full of words.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
the choir grows with the barks of dogs,
the rumble of cars, the fusion of bogs
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
Ships, boats, seafaring vessels, and barks of yore
Showcased in acclaimed poetry
From Homer to Donne to Flores
Metaphors to represent sundry notions
Ships
Uncontrollably swirled in an unforgiving sea
An arc
persecuting the sinners ******
A shipwreck
on a desolate island, defining a lost soul
A speed boat
Perhaps, mans' innate desire to escape
Or searching for lands unknown
What marvels poets behold in ships?
If I scribed a verse about a yonder vessel
It would be a childish innuendo
About a ships mast
Or I'd make an astounding observation
Such as ships are big boats.
However, poets, true visionaries
Scope massive ships from
Microscopic aspects of daily life.
And I. . . I look at a powerful ship
And think I'm a little dingy.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
the backyard is home to a field of flowers
amidst the roots the family dog discovers skeletons
the petals stick to themselves; the weeds spread
it's found that the flower-bed holds its secrets
with curiosity and wandering eyes comes a child
in innocence, he opens his arms only to receive pain
he drops to the earth, writhing in pain
his light form crushing the weeds and flowers
the dog barks at the screaming child
and tries to release him from the skeletons
the strength of their grasp is that of their secrets
you see the effects spread
across the child's skin they spread
his face warping under the pain
opening his mouth, he began releasing his secrets
telling only the ears of the crushed flowers
and the arms around him, those of the skeletons
look at the helpless child
the bones are engulfing the child
grabbing and pulling, faster they spread
the boy becomes one with the skeletons
he becomes one with his pain
his body sinks further down into the flowers
and the flowers promise to keep his secrets
the weeds overheard his secrets
the boy looks less and less of a child
as he settles in with the flowers
making room for him, the flowers spread
the suffering subsides, decreasing pain
he's almost as the skeletons
his body unites with the skeletons
the ***** age keeps his secrets
no longer is there pain
no longer is there a child
into the ground, his limbs spread
into the roots of the flowers
the pain no longer is in the child
because the skeletons stole his secrets
his bones spread among the flowers
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 1:59 PM UTC
Fred Gorgeous works as a Valet
at a reputable tall hotel
with pools
with marble bathrooms
and those marble bathrooms have marbled ********
marbled sinks where the elderly pinch out blood from their lungs
Fred Gorgeous is balding
he wears glasses
Fred Gorgeous isn't gorgeous at all
Fred Gorgeous listens to love songs in spanish alone
Fred Gorgeous has a Dog
his dog barks at nothing
his dog never sleeps
his dog is ugly too
his dog has brown black eyes and a blue collar
Fred Gorgeous has eyes too
his eyes are green
Fred Gorgeous lives in an apartment downtown
Police sirens quake through the city atmosphere like World War 1 **** chemical war fare
Fred Gorgeous submerges himself underwater in his un-marble bath tub
Fred Gorgeous can still hear the Police Sirens
they have tainted the water too
Fred Gorgeous was in love once
many times
but mostly once
Fred Gorgeous smokes cigarettes
Fred Gorgeous listens to Spanish music in the afternoon
while the city is at work
while the kids are at school
while the drunks are drunk in drunk encouraging residents
Fred Gorgeous buys cheap wine
3 dollars a bottle
Fred Gorgeous isn't gorgeous at all
Fred Gorgeous is 34 years old
He is bored
He is not tired
He has 3 pairs of shoes
All of them leather
Fred Gorgeous gets drunk and lays in his closet
the size of a Coffin
and smells his shoes
Fred Gorgeous enjoys the smell of leather and shoe polish
Fred Gorgeous isn't special
Fred Gorgeous isn't great
Fred Gorgeous isn't brave
or a hero
Fred Gorgeous isn't anything at all
Fred Gorgeous has a painting of a tornado on his wall.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
Bobo's kitchen
in the kitchen
icebergs rampage from the freezer
burying pizzas and waffles
in a glacier jungle
Bobo swings forks and knives
at the ice until the maintenance man
cusses in Polish
gallons of water
dripping downstairs
sizzling Bertalina's soul
the fiery bilingual single mom
living in fear
below his fear
of noise complaints
she sends tape recordings
to the landlord in her
cute red faced anger
loud people! and bongos!
guitars! stomping! laughter!
nightmares for her boys
who think they hear ghosts
her tight black spandex
drives Bobo mad when she runs
drifted scents of her food
sift in through his windows
knocking him out
in hungry frustration!
¿Como estás? he asks her
I speak ******* English! she barks back
back up the stairs Bobo goes
to his own kitchen where
the mice crawl out the stove tops
and potatoes grow tree roots
clear through the window
toward another life
Jake Mahaffey
Copyright (c) 2013 Jacob Mahaffey
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
This poem is composed by: a Nonet, a Kyrielle Sonnet, a Free verse part, a Terzanelle and another Free verse part:
In a juerga there’s nothing around
But voices, flamenco guitars ,
Dancing bodies in moonlight,
Vibrant gypsy dresses,
Passion, obsessions,
Bullfighter’s blades,
Silk shawls,
Dancers,
Capes.
Old men have faces scorched and cracked,
Flamenco women to attract,
Like barks of olive trees in night.
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Girls have boot heels and huge roses,
Men clench their teeth , step opposes,
Hands clap and shout in a dance fight,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Guitars are beaten at high speeds,
Castanets scratch the music’s seeds,
Rhythmic fingers snap air to bite,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Old men have faces scorched and cracked,
Shirts dazzle white in the moonlight.
Hands becoming wings
In their shadows on the wall,
Red becoming black and
Black becoming white,
Motion vibrating the guitar's string,
Cubic movements of colors,
In their dance ,
Shadowy wings becoming scarfs,
Flamenco woman arching her body,
Showing her passion…
From the soul to dissolve
The dancing sounds detach
From the soul to dissolve
When the movement they catch,
They may change all around,
The dancing sounds detach.
Drums and tambourines’ sound,
Exotic wrists and swirls,
They may change all around.
The weightless grace makes girls
Steal treasures from the air,
Exotic wrists and swirls.
With beautiful black hair,
Rise like birds , fall like leaves.
Steal treasures from the air,
Having tricks up their sleeves,
From the soul to dissolve,
Rise like birds ,fall like leaves
From the soul to dissolve.
Spicy slippery steps
Waiting for a clue,
Picking up portions of pink
Of hyper-femininity ,
Overflowing screwy sounds
In heavy red chromesthesia,
Morphing themselves into glamorous ,
Red feminine movements,
Men looking like marble statues being alive,
Seemingly cracking.
Slowly diminishing their dancing rhythm,
Steps sickling sweet sounds
To hear the horn of some lost happiness.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 4:36 PM UTC
You tame me
the same way the moon tames the Sun as they embrace each other during an eclipse
And the world watches in awe
admiring their beauty
You tame me
the same way the shore tames the ocean
because even though the ocean barks
crashing against itself like a wild beast
it becomes gentle as a mother
cradling her newborn
creeping in for a kiss
slow and delicate
You tame me
like a tigress being tamed by the king of the jungle
she dares not defy him
because if she does punishment is soon to follow
fierce
yet sensual
You tame me
Like a dominant taking control of his submissive
Making sure she knows who's in charge
You tame me
By battling my demons with your own
I allow you to tame me
Because I love you
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
To the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window niche,
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land!
3.6k