"inspector" poems
Snail trail leading from mouth to heinous ****
let slugs undulate their way across my listerine lips
old jokes like S-Car-Go
and stuff inside me more variable and insuppressible
similar to Inspector Gadget
Matthew Broderick was my mentor
as a child
I am not in pampers any longer
4 P's of teens
***** petrol party and paycheck
that doesn't include pampers
I used to wade in my own ****
that's ******* disgusting to think about now
now an adult
still just wasting time
and wading through my own ****
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
School's coming to an end,
and it's GCSE's,
using all my expertise gained through-out the school years,
It could all end in tears.
Teachers say it's a big deal,
that's what they convey,
it is for them, anyway.
The last few weeks of term and you hand in your coursework,
that was fine, I wish I could shirk the exams,
not very good at revising,
but our teachers are advising us to watch GCSE Bitesize,
but it doesn't really cover what we've learned,
which is a bit of a concern.
We all cram into the exam hall,
it's a bit last minute,
but I'm trying to recall my revision notes.
An Inspector Calls by J.B Priestley,
something's stirring,
Arthur Birling,
a public scandal is too much to handle,
Eva Smith,
Eric and Gerald both had affairs,
but the latter actually cared.
That's a start, I guess.
The exam invigilator sets the clocks,
and permits one hour and forty-five minutes.
The Science exams are multiple-choice,
Biology is fine, but Physics and Chemistry haunt me.
Geography next,
tectonic plates,
and the traits of EDC's,
as well as Less Economically Developed Countries.
That's all over,
we await our mark,
the best part is still to come,
everyone meeting down the park,
and that too me is the abiding memory of my school days,
one last time we're all together in glorious weather,
before going our separate ways.
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 1:54 PM UTC
On forgiving former loves-
I understand your worry for uncertainty
It consumed you
Emerged as an ideal that you could not abandon
So you abandoned me instead
And maybe abandonment is a strong word
But I'm a strong man and I finally have a grasp on this
A clenched fist gripping empathy, not animosity
I understand your intentions weren't reckless
But a blinded truck driver can't avoid oncoming traffic too long
And accidents still design destruction
No matter how sorry the driver is after the fact
And sorry is much appreciated but still neglects the fact that
Heart brakes don't stop collisions, they construct them
I understand your past problems peaked into the present
And interrupted our intimate conversations
I had no problem erasing the demons you carried
To carry your baggage to the nearest trash can
To make room for our own difficulties
But I know attacking these issues alone was your preference
And I admire an inspired inspector of treacherous ground
I understand your passion wasn't illuminating
Our relationship's mansion anymore
Your embers resembled smothered ashes on love's battlefield
Your heart- a committed commander to Independence
The sovereign state selected to attack happy couples
But I won the battle and the war this time
Because my troops are resilient for commitment
I understand your calendar didn't coexist with mine
Still I appreciate your treated tenderness
Your existence improved my experience
Your love surrendered waving white flags
Which I greeted at first reluctantly
But over time I've come to recognize
The importance of self-harmony
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
She died a year ago,
But so pathetic I wasn’t around during,
Her funeral,
Air would have protested against my loud dirge,
There would have been series of enjambment
In the stanzas of my her elegy.
General Abas said she died in a ****** coup,
But she was too wise to be wiped out in a coup,
She was like untamed lion.
Mr George gave another account,
He said she died during an internal war,
The war against the truth,
She has been from truth,
Too blind to see reality,
Fast asleep to be woken up.
The family doctor said she was poisoned,
Poisoned with the truth,
The truth that kills rather to set free.
Inspector James said she was sniped
From a fair perimeter.
The mortuary attendant said they
Heared movement,
Guess she was just try to raise up.
Today I arrive with nothing to feed my eye,
A little bit nostalgic,
I had the feeling that I belong here but not to death,
So I left for the yard, at the backyard,
I couldn’t belive what I saw on her gravestone,
“Nigeria a country, not a nation”
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
Let me introduce myself,
I’m Paul B.
P to the A to the U to the L to the B.
You say Paul,
I say B.
You say Paul,
I say…
I used to teach English, try to inspire.
Least you can say is, I was a trier.
Love this rapping: it gets my feet tapping,
Even though I ought to be napping.
I write poems like a word ejector,
Keep away you Grammar Inspector!
Jay-Z writes in iambic pentameters,
Making out he’s got no parameters.
Honey G just copies off him,
Oh my God she really is dim.
Does her rap like Barbara Windsor,
Do you remember Needles and Pins-ah?
Me I’m copying off them both,
Though it’s only for a laugh.
Whoops a daisy that don’t quite rhyme,
Another case of Butters Rhyme Crime.
Rap is ******* I often say,
Though it rhymes the poetic way.
That leaves me with one thing to say:
You say Paul,
I say…
Paul Butters
© PB 17\10\2016.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
Inspector Dork was not pleased with himself
he had interrogated everyone in the house
only to be knocked down by
impenetrable alibi
Spouse Susan slept soundly through the night
and was awakened in the morn
when the alarm bell rang in his room
Daughter Debby's room was a floor down
she was up with her studies
plugged to earphones
Son Simon was out for the night
he was at his friend's place
for a birthday party
Maid Maddie made his bed
when the clock in his master's room
was chiming ten
Butler Bill having served a glass of milk
closed the door behind him
and retired for the night.
Inspector Dork was about to leave the victim's room
when his eyes fell on the clock pendulum
it was not swinging
he knew who was lying.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
Tucking Dostoyevsky’s
Crime and Punishment
into the bedside cabinet
of the cheap
Paris hotel
having cleaned
the greasy sink
and bidet
you walked out
on the street
breathing in
the Parisian air
smelling the perfume
of the restaurants
on the side walks
seeing the sights
taking photographs
as memoirs
drinking the wines
and beers
and that fish
with eyes still there
putting you off
you tried to get out
of the cheap cafe
but paid for the meal
you couldn’t eat
the fish eye
gazing up at you
dead eye
battered fish
and the Left Bank
and night
and you taking in
the sights and lights
and those ******
sitting in windows
like gifts
to have wrapped
but not take home
or the **** films
you never
went to see
in those cinemas
you just walked by
or the Eiffel Tower day
right to the top
the view splendid
the sight historical
or those rides
on the Metro
riding the wrong carriages
looking out
for the train inspector
pretending to be Aussies
giving it the yak
and later
in your hotel room
taking out
Dostoyevsky
and entering
the Russian world
of ****** and deceit
and being followed
you imagined
by the detective
looking out
onto the Parisian street
from the open window
of your room
gazing at street corners
and shadows
or remembering
that French girl
in the cafe
who served you
with bright eyes
black and white dress
and white apron
the fine long legs
and wiggling behind
recalling the old priest
who once said
too much ***
will make you blind.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 1:42 PM UTC
Lady Clara Vere de Vere
Was eight years old, she said:
Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden thread.
She took her little porringer:
Of me she shall not win renown:
For the baseness of its nature shall have strength to drag her
down.
"Sisters and brothers, little Maid?
There stands the Inspector at thy door:
Like a dog, he hunts for boys who know not two and two are four."
"Kind words are more than coronets,"
She said, and wondering looked at me:
"It is the dead unhappy night, and I must hurry home to tea."
1.7k
You think your children are being educated
But they're actually being ego deflated
They aren't being taught
How to form a thought
Because ...
That's not good for the machine .
You hear the fringe word
meditation
As if it's some kind of voodoo
incantation
Instead they want you to be fed
A steady stream of entertainment
As a way of keeping containment
Off the Grid
Off the grid
The inspector said
We can't be having that
Regulations regulations regulations
Thats all he had to say
Truth be known ...
.....he was just a clone
Latest model on display
Notice how the men in blue
Are becoming almost savage...
....In their demeanor
As they are primed to follow blind
The Crooked Mind
Of the Master overseer
So totally convinced
That they never even sensed
They never were...
..really
A volunteer
Primed and loaded
Each one having been pre - coded
By the educators in the classrooms
That are
The soul burning incinerators
Burning away every trace
Of any human emotions
While swallowing down
Steroid laced
Psychotic mind bending potions
As the rest of us are being fed...
... instead
Of our daily bread
Mind bending views
Prepackaged news
To keep us all shuffled up
Off center
So as to totally confuse
That way we don't ever wonder
Why we choose
Once we find we're standing
In the line to buy the latest toys
Keeping our heads filled..
..with noise
That way
We don't have any time to think
As long as everyone behaves.
They'll never know
That they are slaves
No shackles , chains or wooden canes
To keep the masses in production
We have the latest must-haves ..
.... new introductions.
But time to sit and think......
That's not what the machine wants
Us to do !
That's not
In the latest matrix
Silencing the external
In search of those things
That should be ETERNAL
Will make you unfit for society
As your number is etched
Into
The overseers recorder
In this ....
...THE NEW WORLD ORDER.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
Mathilda is brutally murdered
Udolph is the obvious suspect
remembers everyone how she jilted him
David her last lover is inconsolable
Evan’s appearance raises suspicion
right before the ****** he met her
Ergot the butler had seen him going out
Rocky was with him could be an accomplice
Inspector Brown finds it a tough case
so many suspects but all with good alibi
Dr. Thomas isn’t sure about the cause of death
autopsy is necessary for the confirmation
visible though are the abrasions on her neck
Inspector Brown interrogates all the suspects
dogs are brought to find smells of trails.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
"Papa. Read my the four little pigs and the BIG BAD POUF." With emphasis on the big bad "POUF", we begin the fascinating journey of the pigs and the rehabilitation of the "Pouf".
My granddaughter (age 2) loves the story and when ever we come to the Big Bad she says the "POUF" part. It rather sounds like a French pastry.
The fourth pig, as everyone knows, is Momma pig, she sent the defenseless little pigs out the door with a warning, "the BIG BAD "POUF" likes to eat little pigs." Seems to be a common malady of "Poufs" and Humans.
The BIG BAD "POUF", we are told, watched from the top of the hill where he lived. He was a considerate "Pouf"... letting the little pigs build their straw, sticks and bricks houses before offering to be a building inspector to test the strength of straw and sticks. The "Pouf" condemned the first two houses... huffing and puffing and all of that. All the hair on the little pigs chin could not stop the tinsel strength test performed by the Big Bad "Pouf".
Everyone knows that brick is stronger than straw and sticks but we have a Big Bad "POUF" that begs to differ. Consequently, he ends up in hot water, much like Humans who make bad decisions. Not the brightest and smartest choices made in Pig/"Pouf" Land. At least this pig did not put the lid on the *** and have "POUF" for lunch.
The "POUF" became a reformed "Pouf" staying on his hill top. No more Big Bad for him. Kind and gentle. A NEW "POUF"!
Now 60 years ago the Building Inspector in this story got into hot water and became the lunch of the brick house pig. The other two pigs became lunch of the "POUF" but I suppose I will not be telling that to my two year old any time soon.
There are many versions of the story. Things have changed over the years. The Three Little Pigs live happily ever after and the "Pouf" now stays up on the hill and is a GOOD BOY. Getting into hot water can be a life changing moment... provided the lid is NOT put on the kettle. Moral to this story... stay away from pigs who carry hammers, trowels and squares. Or. Don't be a blow hard.
(c) 02/14/2012 by John Stevens
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 7:14 PM UTC
Are things really as they seem to be ? ......He was trying to explain his vision to a friend, who was listening with a Bent ear, that kept some of the Truth from entering into the ear canal and properly vibrating the ear drum. Thereby, making for a somewhat distorted message .. And the "Stirring-Vision" was explained and detailed as follows: "There was this dog I had, that instead of Barking , it meowed and wanted out in the Middle of the Night. And,there was this Cat I had, that instead of meowing, it Barked and it wanted to jump up on people and wag it's tail. There was this horse I had, that instead of wanting to come into the Barn at night, it preferred to lay in the Mud-Wallow. And, there was this Hog I had, that instead of Oinking and wanting slop for food, would try to jump the fence to get to the Salt-Lick.. There was this Rooster I had, that instead of crowing in the early morning, it let out Bleats and desired to chew on cans. And, there was this goat I had, that instead of wanting to climb everything, spent most of its day in the Hen house , as if it were an egg inspector. There was this Parrot I had, that instead of repeating words that were taught to him, simply called out .."Please Milk Me". And , there was this cow I had, that instead of wanting to have a peaceful day of chewing it's Cud, spent almost all the waking hours, Repeating every word it had ever heard. Then, I saw this snake , crawling away into the tall grass, trying to get away before it was discovered. Yes, there's something about snakes, just always trying to change things. Slithering away, as blame on changes, goes to another as he claims his credits !
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 8:10 AM UTC
Don't Worry Nell
I sometimes get confused and I'm not real bright
but my heart is of gold and I'll do what is right
chasing down bandits and doers of evil
like Snidely Whiplash but not Evel Knievel
I ride thru the country on my gallant steed
searching for damsels who are in need
I don't know why but it seems somewhat bleak
some of these ladies get captured each week
like my girl who I love her name is Nell
sweethearts since grade school out in the dell
her daddy is my boss he's the chief inspector
and it is my duty my charge to protect her
but in every episode of our little cartoon
she gets captured by that honry baboon
Snidely Whiplash trying to cast his spell
I'll save you again don't worry Nell
Dudley Do-Right aka Gomer LePoet ....
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 10:34 AM UTC
I often wonder how much of human behavior is determined by the society in which someone is raised.
On one hand nostalgia has provided such a warm comfort within the constraints of my culture,
but on the other hand I've always been steadfast against nationalism.
Your society can, and often will, keep you in the dark, america (modern society in general) is a model example of such.
Most people would be content watching television with a fast food dinner of hotdogs or chicken nuggets their whole life,
but try to feed them the feet, brains, intestines, even bugs ground up and processed to produce such national treasures,
and they'd be running the other way, calling for a health inspector who would find nothing out of the ordinary.
It brings into question the very foundations of our reasoning.
What is right, what is wrong, what are we supposed to want out of life?
From eating, to learning, to working, to mating, nothing is set in stone.
If we're going off of what is purely human, the only truths are eat, sleep, **** and ****
Sometimes we can't even manage all of these.
These thoughts are filtering through my head now because for sometime I've been seeking a lifestyle "off grid",
and I've had to break down the way of thinking I've been taught is right, crazy has become sanity.
Birth
School
More School
Career
Single long term monogamous relationship
Retirement (if lucky)
Death
"Afterlife"
Now birth and death I can get behind, but as for the rest of it, I'm just not sure.
Agriculture, industrial revolution, private property
all for the advancement of our species, right?
But is this where we're supposed to be, what, who?
What about egalitarianism, what about I am he, as you are he, as you are me, and we are all together?
Hunting, gathering, sharing what you have, trading for what you need, one for all and all for one.
What's mine is yours because we are both stuck on this planet, in this time, in this life, and we all deserve to live.
My food, my home, my mate, my heart, my mind, what little we each have to offer,
why would you hoard? To live is to love, am I wrong?
I don't know.
But I'm working on it
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 3:11 AM UTC
there stood the queen
in her dressing gown
upon her face she wore
a very long frown
for she had lost
her diamond and ruby crown
she hoped it would be found
before sundown
she called Scotland Yard
to search every locale
as without her crown
she'd be an unadorned gal
inspector Jones arrived
in his ex-army jeep
telling the queen
that he'd catch the thieving creep
he thoroughly combed
every inch of England
he even looked under
the white Dover sands
a lady in central Manchester
gave him an address
saying that a felon in Soho
had the crown of queen Bess
high and low in the streets
of Soho he did look
to find this most
cunning and stealthiest of crooks
by a measure of luck
he found him sitting on a park bench
he was talking to
a criminal associate named Roger Dench
the inspector seized the felon
and cuffed his hands
saying pilfering won't be tolerated
in any part of England
at Scotland he grilled
him for information
about the queen's crown
which he pinch without hesitation
some three days later
he fronted an Old Bailey judge
who sentenced him
to sixteen years of jail drudge
overjoyed was the queen
to have her crown back
she could now wear it
to The Ascot Race Track
the inspector was knighted
by good queen Bess
as he was a fine man
at the detection profess
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
Collected around the cafe tables
The normal folk of many labels:
Emily is a district nurse
getting 10p from her purse;
Steve, a school inspector
is worrying about the public sector;
Javed, a curry house chef
is annoyed at last night's football ref;
Karen just made head of service
Truth be told she's pretty nervous;
Imogen's fork falls on the floor
Her teeth are splintered from her jaw
Dust, the silent din
Flying hurtling lances
Punctured skin
Alarm light dances
Life caves in
Misfortune chances
Explosive sin
A coward glances
Emily was my district nurse.
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 2:24 PM UTC
How can you conveniently more fit
Me inside of you, your life
What do you expect inspector?
Granted I can't fool you for too long
Goodbye to solitude only in your presence
I say farewell to folk on most occasions
Expect rain on rainy days and sunshine
You are
Conceited in the mind yet don’t realize
How lost you can't find nor be
Found inside chocolate boxes of youth
Nor flower petals of petulance
Your eyes burn with exhaustion
and rage
Locked like a bird in your cage
So tight wrapped up coiled like
A snake ready to strike full of
Poison and venom
Medusa in Reverse
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC
Some people wish for a myriad
of things, music on a record
their own personal rock band
a mansion, a pool, being the chief
inspector.
Making money, a yacht, dream of a
big family, nights at an inn. Lots
of clothes and shoes and their own
marriage, a wife who will never
leave him.
*If I could have just one wish, I'd
want to be in any room, just one
place, you holding me with your
arm, and a fan on in the background
so I can hear your breathings
pace...*
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
I want to ride old memories
Like broken merry go rounds
Going around and around
Carousel horses
Up and down
Like bipolar days
Happy sad
Apathetic mad
Saint to bad
And back to saint
Innocent victim
To pathetic hermit
Perpetrator
And self-inflictor
Pain inspector
Flipping happiness
Like it was a madhouse of pancakes
In a bad neighborhood
Like madness is good
In memories
Poetry follows me
Beautifully
Sleep deprivation
Exhausts me
Punch drunk driver
Crossing lane
Nodding off
The truck slips
Hits the dips
As I dip into childhood dreams
Sparkling green
Buggies
Doing endless circles
The Ferris wheel
A happy ride
Like a hamster wheel
And I never really get off
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
parallel sympathy endeavor
peaceful and untroubled
achieve ballerina twists
comforting serenity
pull a fast one on
elixir sip sucker stiff
tiny hornswoggle mulct
grandfather clock rich rock
chimney chalk ziggy pop
sirius kid dolls cudi feet tall
artists whirl revolution vet
wolf convincing sheep curve
non believers starting flames
horrid instant ways even livid
fears queen fairy dust spiral
wick gladness warlock king
abide nostrum wake flesh
archangel passion feans
world web crack addicts
mankind teach nine
nail soundness round
raiden uppercut fortify illegitimate
swine heedless being being beaten
headless ***** eyes hub pivot
nerve endings eager enthusiasm hitch
pitch outermost central swain free gist
intrigue archbishop market black illicit
red hot chili peppers implicate explicit
inundating problematic seniority cast
systems hook boom haze tomb prune
embrace bravehearts impale in arms
side by side shield elastic coats grace
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
The desk sergeant sat at the front desk
in a small police station.
A slow day near the end of the shift
in a small rural town.
Close to a sprawling national park
outside just getting dark.
The young man walked up to the counter
holding a metallic strip.
He looked at the unidentified material
what have you got there son?
Asking as in front of him it was placed
wondering what he faced!
Found it while out walking on open ground
saw something fiery fall!
A bang a flash from the skies a craft fell
he said in a story like way.
The policeman puzzled he heard no sound
when was this thing found?
A few days ago on the other side of the moors
the lad reluctantly said.
Suspicious still the officer doubted the story
cautiously touching it.
There was a strong electrical charge up his arm
pulling back with alarm!
I do not believe your story now tell me the truth
where did this come from?
There was fear in the lads eyes as he owned up
admitting he stole it.
A week before from a friends garden shed
drawn by a loud hum in his head!
It was not a metal from this planet he was sure
knowing it was important.
How long it had been there he could not say
but was omitting a signal.
He was going to keep it but became petrified
with that noise humming inside!
The lad went quiet backed away turned and ran
hands on his ears!
Alone the policeman began to hear the sound
getting louder in his head!
Leaving his post intent on ringing the Inspector
a flash no building any more!
An enquiry followed no explanation for the blast
a mystery forever cast!
The young man nobody had seen or heard of him
missing to was the unidentified material!
The Foureyed Poet.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 9:30 AM UTC
I killed myself again tonight
Another perfectly planned ending
Meticulous to the last breath
Painless as always, but this time it was to look like ****** not misadventure
Questions would be asked, not conclusions drawn
I have now I believe played every possible scenario out whilst I battle insomnia
Like Holmes with an entangled case that tears at the synapses I wrestle
Each night the black dog sits and watches as I plot
For it doesn't know I plot its death
The vanquish of my Moriarty, my peace
Soon I will have the solution
For as Holmes himself said
Inspector "Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?'
'To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.' Holmes
Inspector "The dog did nothing in the night-time.'
'That was the curious incident,' remarked Sherlock Holmes.'"
The dog just watched torturous its stare.
That truth? The black dog is my nemesis, my Moriarty, my end.
No Watson to save me
For when you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'
For as Holmes says " There is nothing new under the sun, its all been done before"
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
America is the Land of the Free.
People can be who they want to truly be,
so I welcome all to inspect our society.
It’s perfect as long as one causes no fuss;
only hear what is mellifluous;
only see what is marvelous.
But if one really sees–
if one should look beyond the beautiful seam–
one can gaze upon the problems of our society.
Ask a teenager, some of the most opinionated beings alive,
and find out on what our society really thrives.
Ask a teen how they see the Land of the Free throughout their lives.
Teenagers are depressed.
Students are stressed.
Students study hard, work hard, and all for naught
for all the business’s doors have already been locked.
Society tells people to express themselves and their opinions;
as long as it follows these guidelines and remains in this general thought dominion.
People will hate
on what you wear or on your weight.
Children no longer learn about how to love,
only about how to avoid *** and drugs.
Education is viewed as a privilege, not available to all children born,
when, in a place as plentiful as this, it should really be the norm.
So, I ask, Fair Inspector, is America really Land of the Free
with still so much wrong with our society?
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
Adorable, black furry divine
With soft coat, shining so fine
Barely two and half months old
Brought it home on wintry cold.
His eyes beholding, sparkling,
He in our arms cosily cuddling,
His drowsy yawns enthralling
His movements, cries marveling.
Five months puppy soon
Heaven sent, a real boon
Friendly, graceful and playful
Muscular and very powerful.
Mood enhancer, happiness bringer
Our canine aptly named Winner
Furry pawed, with a furry exterior
Beneath, an utterly amazing interior.
Well bred, well trained, a looker
Loyal, gentle, handsome Winner
Symbol of trust and patience
Furry friend known for jubilance.
Winner's choice, my little boy
Forever running, jumping, to enjoy
Both definitely each other's toy
And undoubtedly each other's joy.
Nose driven, very nice napper
Waggy tailed, insect inspector
Nimble footed, munchy muncher
Winner, entertainer and energizer,
Hanging ears, so sensitive
Eyes expressive, so active
Our hunting, sporting companion
Our sniffing, rescuing champion.
His soulful eyes, full of affection.
But soon came his health deception
Suffering dreadful tumor, infection
All endeavours for his protection.
He spoke but with passion
To who knew, how to listen
Our canine, God of fun-frolic
Suddenly silently melancholic.
Our firmest friend very sweet
Winner, a heartbeat at our feet.
His arrival, profound happiness
His passing away, sheer sadness.
Winner's oblivion, few decades old
His special memories, we still hold
He orbits in an unknown universe
In his memory, these lines of verse.
@Preeti Pathak
Jul 15, 2023
Jul 15, 2023 at 1:12 PM UTC