"mastiff" poems
1317
Abraham to **** him—
Was distinctly told—
Isaac was an Urchin—
Abraham was old—
Not a hesitation—
Abraham complied—
Flattered by Obeisance
Tyranny demurred—
Isaac—to his children
Lived to tell the tale—
Moral—with a Mastiff
Manners may prevail.
6.8k
(Bergen)SEVEN days all fog, all mist, and the turbines pounding through high seas.
I was a plaything, a rat's neck in the teeth of a scuffling mastiff.
Fog and fog and no stars, sun, moon.
Then an afternoon in fjords, low-lying lands scrawled in granite languages on a gray sky,
A night harbor, blue dusk mountain shoulders against a night sky,
And a circle of lights blinking: Ninety thousand people here.
Among the Wednesday night thousands in goloshes and coats slickered for rain,
I learned how hungry I was for streets and people.
I would rather be water than anything else.
I saw a drive of salt fog and mist in the North Atlantic and an iceberg dusky as a cloud in the gray of morning.
And I saw the dream pools of fjords in Norway ... and the scarf of dancing water on the rocks and over the edges of mountain shelves.
Bury me in a mountain graveyard in Norway.
Three tongues of water sing around it with snow from the mountains.
Bury me in the North Atlantic.
A fog there from Iceland will be a murmur in gray over me and a long deep wind sob always.
Bury me in an Illinois cornfield.
The blizzards loosen their pipe ***** voluntaries in winter stubble and the spring rains and the fall rains bring letters from the sea.
3.4k
When midnight comes a host of dogs and men
Go out and track the badger to his den,
And put a sack within the hole, and lie
Till the old grunting badger passes by.
He comes an hears—they let the strongest loose.
The old fox gears the noise and drops the goose.
The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry,
And the old hare half wounded buzzes by.
They get a forked stick to bear him down
And clap the dogs and take him to the town,
And bait him all the day with many dogs,
And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs.
He runs along and bites at all he meets:
They shout and hollo down the noisy streets.
He turns about to face the loud uproar
And drives the rebels to their very door.
The frequent stone is hurled where’er they go;
When badgers fight, then everyone’s a foe.
The dogs are clapped and urged to join the fray’
The badger turns and drives them all away.
Though scarcely half as big, demure and small,
He fights with dogs for hours and beats them all.
The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray,
Lies down and licks his feet and turns away.
The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold,
The badger grins and never leaves his hold.
He drives the crowd and follows at their heels
And bites them through—the drunkard swears and reels
The frighted women take the boys away,
The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray.
He tries to reach the woods, and awkward race,
But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase.
He turns again and drives the noisy crowd
And beats the many dogs in noises loud.
He drives away and beats them every one,
And then they loose them all and set them on.
He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men,
Then starts and grins and drives the crowd again;
Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies
And leaves his hold and crackles, groans, and dies.
3.1k
You're just her little lap dog
Its so pitiful and sad
Jumping around yipping and yapping
Like some shitzu thats gone mad
She pets you now and then
Throws an occasional bone
Keeps you hanging on that leash
While perched upon her throne
She doesnt really want you
Just needs your foolish loyalty
In that tiny brain you know its true
Offered you my open arms
And a honest loving heart
But you fell for her ice cold charm
One day she will put you out
For some strutting mastiff stud
Dont bother sniffing all about
For the trail of my long gone love
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
is covered in tattoos and
likes to drink expensive whiskey
with mint leaves
and fruit slices in it.
She has the strong, sturdy body
of a field worker and is the only
woman I know who looks good
in bright orange.
We share fajitas and
chimichangas while
listening to indie folk music.
She pushes her stomach out
and asks me to
name her fajita baby.
Her mastiff eats from the trash
while we wrestle and scream
because he knows this
is his only chance
at leftover rice
and guacamole.
Her face is the
last breath of Christ
and she tells me
she hates me
while pushing me off
of her
after I make her come.
The dog and I
both know the truth.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 9:05 PM UTC
opening my chakra
feeling a little less darker
a couple of drinks is my marker
but its always just the starter
at the brink and then I'm past it
it was fun while it lasted
now I hand over to my master
from the poodle to the mastiff
screaming who wants war
blocked from the liquor store
my mind wants more
but my liver isn't sure
back to waking up at noon
soaked in bile like some cartoon
know that by the time I see the moon
I'll be singing the same tune
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
We sail we sleep we scry by land
We dig a pit beneath the sand
A place to keep the sun at bay
At dark we rise and find our way
With our faithful companion by our side
Put it all on the table and let it ride
Close to the drop-off on our long slide
The land we left becomes a dream
The ghosts we knew, they rise like steam
They leave some trails against the sky
All but invisible to the eye
With our faithful companion by our side
Put it all on the table and let it ride
Close to the drop-off on our long slide
Call off the search party,
Let mourners wail by the shore
Point to the spot where our ship disappeared
We're not coming home any more
Should you succeed and breach the coast
You tell your friends you've seen a ghost
You tell them all there's nothing here worth dying for
You leave it there
With our faithful companion by our side
Put it all on the table and let it ride
Close to the drop-off on our long slide
Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 1:33 AM UTC
A scuffed black mastiff entered stage left
Grumbling, growling, it pulled on its chain
It wretched and snarled, screaming for release
But it was beaten back by faceless master
It looked upon the watchers with eye of hell
Blood dripped from fresh made cuts and welts
There would be vengeance, the creature thought
As with hate, it looked toward the west
In stage right was a victim of a vicious world
A slave, a prisoner, beaten to the verge of death
A man once noble and just, forced into action
To protect all he had, he stole the bread
To prevent starvation, he fought authority
And now he was sentenced to humiliating decay
He would become the star of a roman play
That would be the last scene he’d perform
An order was given and the hound released
The dog was allowed to fill itself on the feast
Like death rising from below, the mastiff struck
Sinking razors into sweet warm muscled flesh
With back on the ground, the slave did not fight
And the mutt was confused by such a stance
Expecting a fight from his opponent, it waited
It waited with suspicion of the imminent strike
But the last flailing lashes would not fall
The transgressor would not fight one of his own
He saw in the beast, the same eyes as his son
And he understood the frustration of the beaten
The slave would not blame the simple dog
For his own faults, and the evils of the master
And the dog lessened the brutal assault it laid
Knowing that the one on the ground was friend
With dignity, they rose from the dirt together
The senators pondered as they looked on
The reason for the bond seemingly impossible
The lord infuriated ranted to his guards
Over such a refusal to die for the empire
The poor, the hungry, the oppressed rose
They fought back, chanting “We know why”
Why the man went to sleep with the dogs
He went to bed to be rid of the fleas
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 12:11 PM UTC
I.
At
the peak of
the season,
just when the
sun has
decided
to give
his utmost
gleam,
A single file
of
steps,
humble
steps,
marching
steps,
nonchalantly
moves.
Nonchalantly.
A left over
a right - a right
over a left -
clockwork-esque.
amidst the sun's
scorching gaze
with heads
facing down,
amidst the sun's
scorching gaze.
II.
Each holds
a box of wilted
petunias, heavy,
shriveled, wilted
petunias, for every
one to keep, for
every step
they took.
some
would only
possess
a handful
on their little,
wooden
boxes.
Others,
none at all.
not a single one.
none
at all.
III.
The day
finally sets,
and so do I
A black mastiff leisurely
takes his nap
- and gradually, I fall.
Cold drops of water
rhythmically descends
from the kitchen faucet
- and gradually, I fall.
A hopscotch game,
a child then jumps
- and gradually, I fall.
The city streets,
busy with people going
to and fro
- and gradually, I fall.
A ship sails
into the vast blue sea
- and gradually, I fall.
Stars glimmering,
dancing,
in the cold dark sky
- and gradually, I fall.
- and gradually, I fall.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
frustrated w/ the formulaic script,
& setting out to make his ideal film;
the biblical sci-fi epic [Sons of Thunder]; [ ]
starring the unnamed actress & an
unknown; upon hearing this, Eli
booked a direct flight to Abu Dhabi
where he holed up w/ an ex-pat
Russian ****** until interior shooting was done;
it didn't take long; Igor burned the Hollywood
crafted script & told the suit he'd lost it
when he was chased by a bull, or a dog;
or a dog the size of a bull; Mastiff?
By that much, said Igor: Ivan burst in
w/ the new script, ink still wet on the pages;
we've still got attachments - we can't just leave a bunch of
movie stars standing around doing nothing -
Yest' bol'shiye chasti dlya vsekh! Ivan hollered;
[what'd he say? asked the suit]; he says we will
only cast actors w/ big parts;
| [that's sort of ur trademark, isn't it - -] |
da, said Igor the director, his conversations
already being scripted
for tabloid consumption - -
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
course, black, dog hair
from an eleven year old lab mastiff mix
pokes through my salmon button down
reminding me of home
while I pretend to work another day –
sitting in my swivel chair contemplating string theory,
dark matter,
zero-point energy and magnets…
enjoying a slight breeze
thinking about what a mint julip tastes like
and if the temperature and humidity are right
for that sort of affair –
wrinkled slack leg shows the truth
I wore these pants yesterday
dusty Nike proving my enslavement
thank god the sole is pulling away from the faux leather
at least I am not a slave to the seasons –
three week old stubble gives my calloused hands
something to scratch and rub
granting me the look of thoughtfulness
and intense consideration…
I play this up so no one bothers me –
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
Before I was even born
my dad got a dog
A bull mastiff
He was the sweetest
he wasn't supposed to
live past
8 weeks
but he prevailed
he was my brother
he was my best friend
I put my trust into him
He laid his head on me
I was too young
to understand
why he had to leave
now its been six years
and I still miss him
could you blame me
He sits on my Dad's night
stand
in a gold tin
he lies on my dad's shoulder
in permanent ink
he stands near me
in a picture
actually quite a few
he holds a place
a huge one
in my heart
his name was Dozer
and this is for him
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
People tell me
I should be
sad
Because
Life is hard
How
Can
I
Be
sad
When
Watching a
Pug
Carrying a stuffed
Hedgehog half
Her
Size
Up two flights of
Stairs
On her way to bed
Or being greeted by furry smiles
And optimistic tails
Every morning
Regardless of wind or rain
Heat or cold
Aching joints or creaking
Bones
I hope if I’m deserving
I come back with doggy optimism
The whimsy of a Pug
The strength of a Mastiff
The endurance of a Husky
The smarts of a Border Collie
Because then
I will be
Truly
Fortunate
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 10:37 PM UTC
As I gently treaded on the meadow this cold morning
With warm clothes, a hot mug, and a mastiff cuddling
You stood there – sturdy and sublime
On thy peak, silvery snow and lustrous sun shine
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 11:32 PM UTC
You and me
The absurdity
Me a scallop
You a lark
You a grin
Me a chasm
You and me
The hypocrisy
You sensing
Me judging
You sauntering
Me nudging
You and me
The opportunity
Me pushing
You pulling
Me biting
Me grating
You and me
An anomaly
You the poet
Me a mastiff
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 5:07 PM UTC
~
sagged jowls
speckled with tinsel
flop as raindrops
jump and fly ~
after
sad dark eyes
seek my own
momentarily joined
both of us sigh ~
his body is lumped with tumor
his breathing ravaged by time
I look down and well up
soon I will lose my friend ~
from a 10 week old fuzz ball
unwilling to walk down stairs
to a 13 year old lab-mastiff
unwilling to go peacefully…
my heart breaks
my head swims
at the thought
my old dog’s life
will soon end /
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
I Came To A Point & Breathing Was Pain,
Lame What's The Point Let Me Rot In The Rain.
I Sought To Find Answers
Thought Answers Would Fill Me,
Answers Made Questions So Now I'm Like **** Me!
Say I'm Sarcastic I'm Caustic Pure Plastic,
Say What Is True But Don't Be Too Drastic,
I Am Not You So You Say I'm Elastic,
Better Than Blue But I Feel Fantastic.
**** Of The Walk Yes I Am A Mastiff,
Put That Glock In His Mouth & I Might Just Blast It,
Make A Curse For The Ages But I Will Not Cast It.
Hate Is Too Late Because I Will Out Last It,
Your Weight Is Not Fate 'Cause I've Out Classed It.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC