"dalmatian" poems
Always thinking
what am I thinking?
lets start writing
should be sleeping
why am I thinking?
I need to sleep now
bored of sheep, lets try cows
maybe I should count the spots
or connect the dots
of my thoughts....
Dalmatians are the cow canine
ten, eleven, twelve
deeper I delve
sleeper I'm not
wide awake, no
half baked dough
money makes the world go round
funny how it doesn't make a sound
yet people are so loud
it's not needed
nod your head when greeted
nod your head when agreeing
or leaving, deceiving, grieving
maybe thats bowing
bow your head when grieving
Robin Hood had merry men
and they were thieving
still need to be sleeping
dreaming........
If only I could dream of you
as we sail the ocean blue
you would get sea sick
and I would drown quick
this is how my dreams end
much like our relationship
conscious thoughts
maligned with nonsense fraughts
I fraught of you today
tonight, this night
every night
you my light
my darkness
my rainbow
tied around your neck
so delicate
a pretty little thing
no tongue ring yet
butterflies
toast lands sunny side
glass half empty
I'm half fool
a joker in the pack
Batman that's a fact
I only come out at night
your caped crusader
I tried to save her
but the current dragged her under
she now resides in the depths of my mind
a shipwreck
my Mary Rose
how I loved your eyes and nose
and everything attached
did I remember to put the door on the latch?
turn off the oven
come give me loving
and affection
Marvin Gaye, Joan Armatrading
sing to me so I can sleep
sheep, cow, dalmatian, sheep..........
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
I am NOT a size ZERO
My skin is spotted like a dalmatian
angel kisses and acne
My teeth are not pearl white
Chubby feet and lots to love legs.
Muscle is not defined
unmatched clothes cover my body
just a hint of mascara is found on my face.
rarely
My hair is not long and beautiful.
Choppy & Short
fingernails have chipped polish
I am the go to girl.
Not the: go to because she is so drop dead gorgeous girl
But the go to girl "because she knows everyone"
"She can hook me up with him/her" girl.
I will never be a size zero.
My hair may not cover my back and sway while I walk
My teeth are that awkward shade of in between almost looking perfectly white
I don't wear expensive clothes. Let alone match what I do wear.
My skin is far from being as smooth as a "babies ***
My eyes have wrinkles around them already.
SO...
That does not mean in any way, shape, or form that I do not have a soul.
I have feelings.
My heart can only handle so much.
To the boy who laughed at me in the gym:
I am sorry that I do not have a perfect body that is "eye candy"
To the boy{s} who stole my heart, and then hit on my great friend:
I'm sorry I don't use large words and have an opinion on everything.
I'm sorry I am not a poetry goddess or have the ability to pull off wearing
red lipstick and scarves.
To the boy I hardly know in church:
I will NOT give you my roommates number
after you flirt with me to get it.
To all of the boys who look past me while I am walking next to ANY girl:
I'm sorry, I guess I really am not worth "your time"
&
To the boy, who will hold my hand and heart for the rest of, well {forever}:
Can you hurry up?
I am ready for someone to like that I don't plaster myself in powder
and stiffen my hair with hairspray everyday.
I am ready for you to love me for my thousands of small freckles covering my body.
I hope you can love me, unconditionally...
even though I am curvy.
I know you are out there somewhere.
And if I knew you now I would send you to beat up
all of those boys hurting my feelings.
Or just hearing how much you care for me,
that would help too.
I'll be waiting.
xoxo
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
Late July, and the mosquitoes are out
Blackening the sky with their swarm
15 feet from the campfire
Lurks certain death.
Billy strayed too far
1000 tiny syringes saw their chance
He looked like a strawberry Dalmatian
37 bites, he said
37 small pieces of hell
Late July, and the mosquitoes are out
Billy had learned his lesson
Nothing moves in the blue twilight
Except the mosquitoes
Blackening the sky with their swarm
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
Shining lights on a Dalmatian shore
Broken little mirrors on an aqua sea
provides the backdrop for boys wrestling on a concrete diving board
Girls soaking each other with a push button tap
The thin old man in speedos intervenes
One hand holding a roll up
The other gesturing in Croatian
The setting sun behind the city of Split
Is a rusty heat haze for swallows to dart over
Truffle oil fills the air from the cafe
A couple use sign language to speak as the sea roars in
Backs and shoulders covered in beautiful inked art with Angels, crosses and devils
Pine trees provide shelter on the stony beach
Families playing cards and laughing.
The church bells signal it is time to go in
We start up the hill and look back at the sky.
A night to remember and a night to repeat.
Aug 9, 2022
Aug 9, 2022 at 4:28 PM UTC
Sangrias on Saturdays,
a better way,
we got sicker,
the stairs spiraled,
quicker than a Winter's day
and a jet plane
is a
dalmatian
in a weird sort of way.
That was stupid
to sa-
vor
one sort of angle
over
another sort
of strangle
hold
would be a mistake,
one of great consequence,
something to wince at.
Keep wincing.
I know.
Red haired,
struttin' down that stage
like the Summer fox,
strummin' that
southern rock,
get me off, get me off!
I'm stuck
in love me mode
so give me
a good
night lullaby
and tuck me in-
at least.
freckle faced teenager, giddy up!
freckle faced teenager, give it up!
I'll be there,
I"ll be the one.
I'll feel hair
and I'll pull for fun.
Snow.
Roses.
Snow and roses,
Fall always forces
and I can never go back to
the cotton my blood was soaking in.
Snow and roses,
Fall always closes
and leaves me wanting.
I can never go back; ****
the rotten fruit our wine was soaking into.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
Difference.
Praise for all variation,
that diversified play of colour and shape
which takes away sameness
and paints nature with sheer tessilation.
Hooray for the patchwork
of harlequin stripes in that mackerel sky
or those chequered blotches
embroidered on coats of every dalmatian.
Applause for the hues
shot through peacocks and each rainbow,
those pied streaks in ponies,
marbling of stone, the frets in wide bands
on speckled trout, braided
tattoos over the backs of zebras and tigers
flecked with a motely
collection of artistically peppered mosaics.
Smiles for tri-colours
in butterflies and pibald frogs just made
to reflect luminous wet.
For kaleidoscope difference let praise be
and for all crazed iridescence
seen in the glorious abundance of nature.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 6:19 AM UTC
Panting again I rest
Only now I think of the day
Innocent gossip in D Block
Adventures of zip-up jackets
Covering a costume gold pendant
Looking at friends through my hair
A fringe that dominates and annoys
Stray eyebrows that linger between deep eyes
Mermaid kicks spray me
Keeping me company when I think
If I could go back I would
Somewhere away from damp air
Like Switzerland or Dalmatian Coasts
Away from denim dungarees on muddy hills
No more ground sheets in his rucksack
Just friends, my cold hands and uneven locks
Closed roads trap me, Typical council
Often fond of stationary cups and dusty hoovers
Just run, be proud to be there up and on
Along D.S Alley throwing my trainers into the boots bay
Avoiding the tainted Dene and his bravado remarks
Those too familiar faces you adapt to loathe
Not listening to banter just a shower and my herbal tea
Off to do revision is my excuse to wonder why I
Accept it and go on tomorrow's dawn is bright
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
Watch out for the jackal.
A Joker.
I don't like to play games.
This is serious follow the clues.
The stepping stones line the path.
Through the meadow and the prairie.
Galloping stallions.
Twirling battalions.
Shiny medallions.
A whiny dalmatian.
A quarreling nation.
What is the logic?
Chirping frogs.
Daddy long leg spiders.
That sit down beside her.
A messed up mind.
A senseless theory.
A confusing plot.
Without any thought.
What was I thinking?
If I remember it wouldn't matter?
Really?
Of course not.
Absolutely not.
Giggling girls.
Gossiping & copying.
Stealing each others cosmetics, boyfriends,
money, CDs, DVDs, jet ski's,
Mountain climb.
Scuba dive.
Snorkel.
Hot air ballooning.
Hang gliding.
Bungee jumping.
Parachuting.
Water skiing.
Boogie boarding.
Dune buggy racing.
Ice skating.
Roller coaster.
Merry go round.
Ferris wheel.
A maze of fun.
Build a sandcastle.
Build a Snowman.
Make a snow angel.
Collect seashells.
Or sea glass.
Pearls.
Fly a kite.
1,2,3 go.
Wash, rinse, & repeat.
Step, shuffle, step.
Destiny
Harmony
Star
Karma
Ruby
Aqua
Moon
Rainbow
Trinity
Phebe
Ariel
Glow
Diamonds
Cool water
Vanilla fields
Charm
Dessert
Fantasy
Perfume
Fragrance
Delightful & frightful.
Neat & sweet & discreet.
Charming & disarming.
Meet & greet.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
I’m a dalmatian in the park this morning
leaping with a grace I can feel
a toddler by midday, splashing
unashamedly into gleeful puddles
red wellies into small pools of sky
a bird by the afternoon
giving the impression I may take flight
as I perch wise on the wall and
stretch my feathers
watching you
a fish by the time the evening is here
paper-light and shining
pretending I am not gasping for air
but I’m gasping
because I know night is coming
And the pretence
Should really be over in time for bed.
Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 5:09 AM UTC
On the court
she is a calculator
Texas Instruments tattooed on her shoulder
On the court
she is a fire chief
Barking orders like a high strung dalmatian
On the court
she is Agent J
Picking physics-loving Tiffany out from the monster crew
But here
she is waist-deep
in the muck of academia
slogging ever more slowly
through the murk
toward the crisp vellum
of someone else's
wanting to know
through the mire
toward the cubicle prison
of taking orders
from bosses or
for burgers
On the court
she is a calculator
Texas Instruments tattooed on her shoulder
In her mind
she climbs the walls
of the slime-sided well
On her terms
she lifts her face to a sunlight
that is hers alone.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
There is something sweet about us.
How you never stop telling me I’m cute
And I won’t let you believe you’re stupid.
There are so many details of us
They have all blended into a rhythm.
It is the kind of rhythm you can dance to,
One two
One two,
Like a heartbeat.
Like your skipping heart beat,
Which has become my favorite song.
The tin foil around the chocolate I ate today
Said “get lost on purpose”
So I got lost in you.
And when I picture you
With a guitar in your lap,
I forgot that I am afraid
Of change
And loving too hard
And bears.
Somehow no part of me is afraid of you.
And so I hand you the light bulb of myself.
I let you into my museum
And I ask, “please touch”.
I leave all my best and worst qualities out on display
Knowing you might break them
I invite you to break them.
Because even if you leave me in pieces,
I will be better for knowing you,
And the drifting way your eyes fall shut
And the way you jiggle your leg during movies
And dance your fingers up my spine.
Nothing makes my light bulb quite as bright
As your wide smile.
And I, just a girl, didn’t know what beautiful meant
Until I heard my name on the tip of your tongue.
I have grown a lot since I wore a Dalmatian suit
And dreamed of dragons.
But something about you and me
Reminds me of magic.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 11:39 PM UTC
On the spot
And in spots
I make it rain
Really big drops
Almost hail,
Break the ground
Winding down
From one spot
To the next
Connect the dots
And Make
A constellation
Put it all together
And we can see
A stellar dalmatian
Wag the tail
My Imagination
Runs on and on
An endless conveyor
Factory of thoughts
A flower for yours
A cookie for mine...
© okpoet
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 5:27 AM UTC
Going
once
Hey
Buster!
1-desperately
Never want
The New Jersey
Wife-bra
That drops down
Actress Fakes
Going firm up__
Hollywoods
La Femme
Frenchie
Her Roast beans
cup
2- twins bark
pup
Bra me=
I'm +Robin Birdie
Told me
((Never Ha Me))
2-Bustiers
equally
Tara twice La
Him musketeers
- duh Harrah
Sara Smile- Huh
Santa's trainer-Shy Spanish fly
blush Fly Robin Disco pry
Twirled together
Behind the
curtain
Dorothy & Toto bra click my red slippers home-
Girl scout brownies
The bra course
boom!!
Never bust room!!
Mystic
Falls Vamp-hire
[.
[.
Trump-her
Naughty
Tara La Bra-ly
Hybrid
Which one
Is the
Witch
wizardly bra?
The good
Linda witch
Jinx
Jalapeno
Never a
Prince
She's allergic
Like Tied- ankle
slipper
Cozy Curry
Bra Chicken
Terror Terry
Bra trader
Villalobos
Snackerro's
"La Bra land"
"One Chosen Bra"
Sultry\ steampunk
Bra- link
Blonde
niche
Patriotic
Red- blood- white
The King Elvis
Being Launched
Queen Priscilla
size
Tara La
"Historical" Aint nothing but a hound dog*
The girl has rocks in her head
gone stupid in bed
she couldn't lift
her underarms
Scarlett has gone-----
with her friends' lover
Never a bra
with firearms
((Never B-B Tara La))
Her
long
neck______
Vampire Diaries
Disease VD
Pour bra Scotch
"0" outcasting
Tomato Pie
Lace box
"Robin
Redbreast
take-off
wizardly
Ozfully-set
She was
born
like
that
bra
Lady
GaGa
Singer
Robin-Hood me
blood bra orders
Where's your Bra?
High Dalmatian
demand
bone-fish bra
So many Men
Gondola Tara La
Venice
Chinese
Cat-talk
Siamese bra
takeout
Catstick______
faceoff be quick
Bra \off
this is
Taras turf
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
Late July, and the mosquitoes are out
Blackening the sky with their swarm
15 feet from the campfire
Lurks certain death.
Billy strayed too far
1000 tiny syringes saw their chance
He looked like a strawberry Dalmatian
37 bites, he said
37 small pieces of hell
Late July, and the mosquitoes are out
Billy had learned his lesson
Nothing moves in the blue twilight
Except the mosquitoes
Blackening the sky with their swarm
School days, have to do homework
Alone, not bad,
but Math, English, French together
just like the mosquitoes
Blackening the sky with their swarm
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
Of all of God's children,
He was my favorite,
With a smile of saviors,
The handshake of pastors,
The attention of preachers,
And the prestige of a priest,
But he lived nothing like Christ,
I payed my tribute,
Paying the weekly tithings,
Of a dutiful wife,
By Cooking, cleaning, and closing my eyes,
To all the nights of listerine and dilated pupils,
To all the mornings of an away of strange perfumes,
To all the mid colored splotches making a Dalmatian of my skin,
Those were my tithings,
But he must have been in favor with the man up stairs,
Because he strode freely,
A man of god,
Faces no persecution,
For his acts of hate,
But the son of god,
Dies for sharing love,
But no love is shared,
With a ministers wife,
I wept my prayers nightly,
With my knees indented by the carpet,
With my hand clasping my broken wrist,
Dear father who resides in heaven,
Why do you leave me here in hell,
With a man who loves like purgatory,
Why let such a man live,
Who lets your name jungle gym,
Through his vocal chords,
While letting the devil,
Strategically blockade his heart,
God,
Fill this silences,
With verses of hope,
With scriptures of love,
And books of revelations before my eyes,
But the only thing revealed,
Was the dismissal,
Of a ministers wife,
When asked why I'm an atheist,
I'll always tell you this,
My faith died with my blindness,
My god died with my marriage,
Now,
Let the minister dismiss his wife,
One
Last
Time
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
Water fell into a thoughtful puddle,
Awaiting that moment as feet jumped.
And like a tsunami of exitment my
Once clean wears were dotted like
A dalmatian. But i smiled such is
The thoughts of a fathers day.
Like a whirlwind of excitement
You ran around my feet, intuition
Redid my words. Still my little
Bean for the wind will stop and
You will fall to the ground. Words
Blurred in a moment and kisses
Given to scrapped knees.
Eyes look up and see amazment and
Love returned with a smile, new
Experiences seen with fresh eyes.
Two hands hold as three words spoke
One, two, three.
And then i am a spaceman launched
Into the sky. I look up and see the
Love for me in both their eyes.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
In a world that constantly praises similarities of classes of people I find no space to be me
I am confined to this box of mediocrity where being like everyone else is awesome and being different is not okay
It's unfair that I am frowned upon because I fail to conform to modern perceptions of who I should be or what I should do or what I should wear
I may not look like you, I may not talk like you and I definitely may not act like you
But that's okay, I am who I am and you are who you are
Imagine if all snow flakes were the same or all spots on a Dalmatian had the same pattern, there would be nothing interesting about it
Enjoy being different
Have fun challenging the status quo
You were born to be different
You were born to stand out
In this identity crisis that the world is currently going through, embrace what makes you who you are and be uniquely you, a Shining Star!
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
While meditating earlier today,
a flashback leapt
clear for me to assay,
those ever receding
early boyhood daze,
now subsumed within fifty,
plus nine shades of gray
blissfully innocent naivety,
(though blessed) no way
would, aye desire to turn back
the hands of father time (hypothetically),
where unstructured play
regularly with older sister
(thirteen plus months
my senior) predominantly
slicing, sliding, and slipping
stockinged feet skittering
across slippery basement floor,
this then soul full
skinny thing bellowed hooray.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"I'm Matty Mattel; I got hurt;
Can you go out?"
Those words uttered
by the very first
pull-string talking doll
Mattel did tout
circa nineteen sixty
revolutionizing the birth
of quasi simulated (lifelike) toys,
and made of common
materials found scout
ting around the house simply comprising
hard vinyl (i.e. pseudo
plaster of Paris) head he did flout
with remaining body
stuffed with padding,
a definite no
no (chew toy) when Fido about.
Actually that pooch,
would be Georgie to you,
(a hybrid Boxer Dalmatian)
with docked tail
my young parents acquired,
when as a newborn,
aye did inconsolably wail
though recollection of such memory
fifty nine years ago tis of no avail
yet, a resumption of meditation,
sans lightness of being
(analogous trancelike state),
that doth prevail
replaying silent film preceding,
when psyche seem so frail
plummeting into emotional abyss
the nadir i.e. anorexia nervosa
pleading return to nostalgic boyhood
decrying change hide didst bewail!
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
(With gratitude to poet G.M. Hopkins)
Praise for all variation,
that diversified play of colour and shape
which takes away sameness
and paints nature with sheer tessilation.
Hooray for the patchwork
of harlequin stripes in that mackerel sky
or those chequered blotches
embroidered on coats of every dalmatian.
Applause for the hues
shot through peacocks and each rainbow,
those pied streaks in ponies,
marbling of stone, the frets in wide bands
on speckled trout, braided
tattoos over the backs of zebras and tigers
flecked with a motely
collection of artistically peppered mosaics.
Smiles for tri-colours
in butterflies and piebald frogs just made
to reflect luminous wet.
For kaleidoscope difference let praise be
and for all crazed irridescence
seen in the glorious abundance of nature.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 6:07 AM UTC
i still remember running around at dusk with a jar, with childhood friends, chasing cockchafers (hrabąszcze); and this is at a time when there was inflation in the country, back then it was almost like Zimbabwe in Poland... and a major economic theory was being undermined... it's still honey to me, of course my memory has become a bit patchy, a bit tartan, a bit of a dalmatian, but i still remember bits and bobs... having a memory like that feeds the imagination, esp. if the imaginative expression takes root in symbols, rather than shapes and colours.
it's mesmerising how memory
is the equivalent of antimatter
given imagination is the matter,
because how easily does man
conjure up elves, demons, angels
and gods and talking lions,
and how difficult he finds it,
conjuring himself, aged nine -
re-imagining things, the premise
of the educational system,
being tested like that, eroding memory
like that, the corrosion of memory
akin to teeth, how do we erode
the enamel of our memories on pointless
arithmetic and a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, i, j, k,
m, n, l, o, p, q, r, s, t, u, v; w, x, y, u, z...
you see, i only know the sing-along
version of the alphabet,
and i just didn't bother remembering it
as such... god knows how i managed
to remember january through to march
ending in december.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
I guess our dream
of owning a dalmatian
doesn't matter
anymore.
Aug 21, 2020
Aug 21, 2020 at 1:46 AM UTC
conscience bequeaths I must amend this tale
of bravery to expose, I did nothing out of
this world nor above the call of a normal human
I only did what I saw was called for.
Bravery is a short-sighted woe of a fool
at times a man not thinking , seeing
someone in need I guess we have this blindless
to feel to go without thought impose
Our own cost of justice upon what we saw
and time has its limits for the mind
to fully digest, like a fine three-course dinner
we must have time for it to impress
but, once seen, once saw , once
the raw information progresses to the
pituitary gland and adrenaline
flows, instincts take over and we fight or fly
now this time, as this story digresses, I saw what I thought
was an insufferable transgression of a man
beating his dog alongside the road,
a Dalmatian she was, so I took his right arm and broke it.
I only spent one night in jail where they fed me bologna
Two pieces of bread and an apple.
Let me out the day after. And I have wondered
ever since what happened to the dog and
where that son-of-a-bitch is
I want to break his left arm, too!
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 9:12 PM UTC
The stain marked blots of swirled ink
Like a rabid rorschach dalmatian
Whose spots ripple radiuses that splice
And blend jagged lines into a roving equation of pi
Designed to describe the inner most 'I"
That is lost to a world paved in concrete palaces
Where stasis has become the new normal
Amongst the maelstrom of competing voices
Voicing their interpretation as unrequited
Expressions that stresses the individual syllables
Of FREE-DOM against the forces that otherwise
Leave the slate blank so that all that remains
Are empty spaces of what could have been
If ink never stained the page
Nov 7, 2024
Nov 7, 2024 at 9:55 AM UTC
A columbine of sound surrounds my ears - the vacuum's persistent validation wanes in my eyes as they catch shadows that are dyed; dalmatian fur and organized chess; voices arouse at the pupils and I want to see blue as if my eyes were always distantly blue. In entirety you are the ocean, but I pick you apart, handful by handful, and all I see is flesh. Please check the board again for I could have sworn I had you right where I wanted you. To have you now is to have you later - what more could I have asked for, in truth, the whole wide world.
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 5:28 PM UTC