"pugs" poems
The daughter of the village Maire
Is very fresh and very fair,
A dazzling eyeful;
She throws upon me such a spell
That though my love I dare not tell,
My heart is sighful.
She has the cutest brown caniche,
The French for "poodle" on a leash,
While I have Bingo;
A dog of doubtful pedigree,
Part pug or pom or chow maybe,
But full of stingo.
The daughter of the village Maire
Would like to speak with me, I'll swear,
In her sweet lingo;
But parlez-vous I find a bore,
For I am British to the core,
And so is Bingo
Yet just to-day as we passed by,
Our two dogs haulted eye to eye,
In friendly poses;
Oh, how I hope to-morrow they
Will wag their tails in merry play,
And rub their noses.
* * * * * * *
The daughter of the village Maire
Today gave me a frigid stare,
My hopes are blighted.
I'll tell you how it came to pass . . .
Last evening in the Square, alas!
My sweet I sighted;
And as she sauntered with her pet,
Her dainty, her adored Frolette,
I cried: "By Jingo!"
Well, call it chance or call it fate,
I made a dash . . . Too late, too late!
Oh, naughty Bingo!
The daughter of the village Maire
That you'll forgive me, is my prayer
And also Bingo.
You should have shielded your caniche:
You saw my dog strain on his leash
And like a spring go.
They say that Love will find a way -
It definitely did, that day . . .
Oh, canine noodles!
Now it is only left to me
To wonder - will your offspring be
Poms, pugs or poodles?
4k
1. Grumble
Of pugs. Or old men. Correlates to the grouping
of wrinkles: smile lines (down) whiskers (up). Synonymous to a gaggle of geese. Or women.
A grumbleman steps on the Pug's tail
and a passing girl hears
a crack, yelp, **** She turns to help
but the grumbleman is gone and the pug
with him. She wonders why her neighbor's car
is still at her Mom's house? Why her Mom
wants to be called Veronica not Mary. One night she dreamed Veronica dancing on their roof
in the rain holding tight to an old red picture whispering to a woman on the lawn dancing
dry in white. She tried to call out to Veronica
she saw her slipping, but when she touched her lips
She felt them sewn shut with coarse, wet thread. Veronica turned and flew to her, to the window, grabbing her hands forcing fingers to feel
the brail graven into her Mother's giggling teeth that read, Don't look, your father will be bleeding soon. She awoke and her window was bound
in greased black leather. The floor ashen. Her lips still sewn
shut.
Anne stood,
picked out her fathers bones
Veronica had sewn into her
pillowcase
and
she
danced.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
I have become a gran again,
To a special girl,
Shes's got warts on her face,
And a squashed-up nose,
And she trots at a fast pace.
She's cute and she's brown,
Apricot to be correct..
I love her so much
Even when she's being greedy,
Which is most of the time
But we keep her in line
As pugs tend to go fat..
And we don't want that,
I find it a joy
To have her stay,
My cat isn't impressed
And does her best
To ignore Peggy the pug,
I hope one day
They will be friends,
As I care for them both,
The love from a pet
Is unconditional,
Their loyalty knows no bounds
To stroke a pet is therapy they say
I know being with Peggy makes my day
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 6:58 AM UTC
he likes neck kisses and being called "sweetheart."
he drinks milk when he eats peanut butter,
offer to pour it for him.
he loves pugs and his dog, scooby.
if you're not best friends with scooby by the first month,
you're doing something wrong.
when he tells you you're beautiful,
it is easier to just agree.
when he takes you home,
allow plenty of time to say goodnight (he takes forever).
he hates crunchy peanut butter.
he'll give you his jackets and hug you until you stop crying.
if you watch lord of the rings with him, bring kleenex.
know and understand star wars references or you're *******
he is an incredible writer.
he'll buy you lots of things for christmas,
do not try to compensate.
if he isn't the best boyfriend you've ever had,
you're not giving him enough credit.
love him, he deserves it.
and i kinda hope you never exist,
because i'm not done loving him yet
and i don't think i ever will be.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
As pure as a dew drop on a rose petal
though colored like a bird of paradise
as soft as the *** of a newborn
but tough as nails of another mettle
such is the charm of my new friend
As light as a fleet footed furry fox
but boy! She fights like an enraged ox
As cute as a hovering hummingbird
though wizened like wrinkled old grandpops
such a pretty picture is my new friend
As disarming as a tub full of puppy pugs
though she swears more than a grimy ****
As lovely as a lily in full bloom
Yet scarred by the world's inner gloom
Such a darling is my new friend
With her eyes riveted to the stars
armed with love, and a smile
she fights a million wars
for the minds of the world's rank and file
to set them free, let them see
the light in her eyes, what makes her come alive.
Such a treasure is my friend
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 3:10 AM UTC
kiss me on the mouth, on the
way to the elevators, with
everyone all too close, and my
heart pounding.
squeeze my hand and tell me
I'm yours and we'll run to the
Hudson through the slush and
watch the barges roll by.
our breath will be Dragon's fire,
and our hearts in our throats, and
I'll be so happy I won't say a
word.
we'll stay up all night watching
the lights in Hoboken,
sharing a forty
and
talking about pugs, broken mugs and
mice; climbing, metal bands and some
story you heard on NPR; your twin brother
and sister Patty, and I'll shut you up for
telling me the same story for the tenth time and
invite myself back to your place,
shut the lights off, and cuddle
with you all night.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 12:14 AM UTC
lasing fallacies
facilitated by flunkies
fictionalizing facts
for freedom
re-done interiors
inferior to craftsmanship of old
offer glimpses into consciousness
of the common folk
squandering birthrights
for a burger richer in trans fat
and bacon flavoring
atop an evangelical spire
I peer into soulless zombies
seeking connection
with my kin
only to have reality slap me back
as wolves are kin to pugs
but they cannot coexist
storm clouds gather
night falls
tears drop
I am alone
bone dry dust bowl
harboring fuchsia scorch marks
landscape scars
fracking remnants
humanity’s blight
my line of sight tracks trite sprites
pixie wings and bath salts
eating dog faces for jesus
or worse
feces
out of hunger
horrified I recoil to a safe spot within
again
with old friends
in the din
I win
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
Fishing on a pier
In midsummer haze
With my grandfather,
Out on a misted lake,
The blues of the waters,
Stirring, deepening blues
Of drizzled sky, we baited
Our hooks, lapping waves
Caressed the drowsy pillars
We rode and so, were reminded,
That there is one colour for both
Joy and sadness. Over slow time
Different fish appeared, bass, pike
Trout, hornpout, but mostly the rangy
Perches, scaly pugs of yellow-orange,
Like slabs of weighted, tiered sun, they
Fought on the reel with high crested spine,
A quiet, noble ferocity.
Later, moving lethargically
In the grey of our pail, like broken beads
Of water shed from the morning sun,
How I wanted to toss them all back.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
Coffee’s brewin’! Breakfast’s ready
Logging in to fb news
Screen’s a glowing- click the icon
Hoping I won’t get the blues
Fb login pw stronger
Are there messages for me?
Memories from 2 years ago
Show me how it used to be
Scroll down scroll down, puppy pictures!
Cute and funny photo fare
Type Amen cuz I love Jesus
Share this post to prove I care
Ooo! A test to know my angels
Good to know she’s got my back
What does the color purple mean?
DIY? I can’t do that!
*** Is Donald singing?
Bernie’s busy counting votes!
Hillary is text-deleting
Did you see those dancing goats?
Talking pugs and grumpy kitties
Lol! they’re here to stay!
“T-Rex Tuesday”, “Throwback Thursday”
It’s a Facebook Kind of Day
Ty. Like and share or 27 kittens will be run over by a truck
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC
To ease the pain of your anti depression
Let me walk you through your first park lesson
Accustom your eyes to autumn’s wonderful display
Leaves of orange, yellow and some even grey
The branches alive with birds dancing around
And the collectors of nuts scurrying about on the ground
The jogger the biker and one man on a ski
The people out walking, the cafe, the hot tea
Winter flower's start to blossom in the sun cold day
A coloured relief from the winter of grey
The bridges, the river, the afternoon tide
The secret garden with their doors open wide
The carvings of seals, beetles and one giant frog
Walkers, walking Lurchers, pugs, and a fast whippet dog
So throw away your anti depressants of glom and pain
Get out doors walking, in the sun, cold, and rain
Let the wind blow through you wash your problems away
A walk in the park will always turn, a grey day
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
.
Fishing on a pier
In midsummer haze
With my grandfather,
Out on a misted lake,
The blues of the waters,
Stirring, deepening blues
Of drizzled sky, we baited
Our hooks, lapping waves
Caressed the drowsy pillars
We rode and so, were reminded,
That there is one colour for both
Joy and sadness. Over slow time
Different fish appeared, bass, pike
Trout, hornpout, but mostly the rangy
Perches, scaly pugs of yellow-orange,
Like slabs of weighted, tiered sun, they
Fought on the reel with high crested spine,
A quiet, noble ferocity.
Later, moving lethargically
In the grey of our pail, like broken beads
Of water shed from the morning sun,
How I wanted to toss them all back.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 8:55 PM UTC
Fishing on a pier
In midsummer haze
With my grandfather,
Out on a misted lake,
The blues of the waters,
Stirring, deepening blues
Of drizzled sky, we baited
Our hooks, lapping waves
Caressed the drowsy pillars
We rode and so, were reminded,
That there is one colour for both
Joy and sadness. Over slow time
Different fish appeared, bass, pike
Trout, hornpout, but mostly the rangy
Perches, scaly pugs of yellow-orange,
Like slabs of weighted, tiered sun, they
Fought on the reel with high crested spine,
A quiet, noble ferocity.
Later, moving lethargically
In the grey of our pail, like broken beads
Of water shed from the morning sun,
How I wanted to toss them all back.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
He studies her.
She is sitting just across from him, re reading the same book for the 12th time.
Literally.
She is always finding a new book, and if it was really good, it was all she would talk about. He loves that about her.
The way her long, dark blonde hair contrasted her structured cheek bones. He loves the way that her eyes turn dark green when she cries, and when she’s smiling, the way you can see her small dimples.
He loves the way she wears his shirts around the house.
He loves the way she lights candles, because she thinks the house smells “beautiful.”
“Babe, do you want some tea?” he asks, reaching across the table to hold her hand. Her nails are a pastel coral.
He loves the way pink looks on her.
“Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you.” She says, looking up from her book and smiling at him.
He stood up, and walked over to the white tiled counter that had his Canon on it. He loves taking pictures of her. He prepares the camera.
He notices the way her large white sweater droops over her shoulders, exposing her pale skin. You can almost see through her, like she’s some kind of glass you don’t want to break.
The whole kitchen was completely white.
But it didn’t look weird.
She had put up little drawings of cute things, like pugs, cats, poetry she had written, all in pastel colors. The sun from the window was hitting her face perfectly, and he takes a few pictures. She acknowledges him taking the pictures, and just continues to read.
“God, you’re beautiful. You know that, right?” He mumbles, while facing the kettle.
“I don’t think beautiful is a word to describe me, baby.” She responds, looking over her shoulder to see him.
She admires the way his curls were wild and rugged when he didn’t brush his hair. Or the way you could see his tattoos through his white shirts, when he wore them. She admires the way he tries to impress her by doing silly things.
She admires the way his dimples show when he gets really excited and happy, and the way his green eyes could make any girl swoon.
Quite often, she thinks about how he could have any girl he wanted, yet he chose her, in all her glory.
m.g.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
They're back, They’re back, Were under attack,
The lunar rabbits are out for a snack!
Alert the army, the navy and scrabble the jets,
The rabbits on the moon are down here with nets.
They come armed with cannons with weird purple goo,
They fire brown bullets like moon rabbit poo.
We have to fight back, with our own ***** bombs,
So, Fire the grannies in pink frilly thongs!
If that doesn't scare the big moon bunnies back,
Send in the school teachers, send them in in a pack!
Armed with rulers and dusters and big books of maths,
Throwing questions and fractions and patronizing laughs.
Alert all the animals from around the whole globe,
From the great Megladon to the smallest microbe,
Get the Austrian emu with the horns on its feet,
And the machine gun bees to assemble their fleet.
Call the ninja koalas and the samuari fox,
And rats in the prisons with socks full of rocks.
Ring the axe weilding pugs from Norway’s fjords,
And the peacocks from turkey with tails made from swords
Then maybe we can ride into battle on the back of a beast,
The mysterious king ***** that migrate from the east.
Well almost be ready to hold back the attack then,
I fell for that story once, I will not fall for the same trick again.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
One leg up
hand resting
I'm scribbling ideas
to help me fall asleep.
I like tall buildings
and lots of concrete
One leg up
while walking in the city
still
faces in weird spaces
move
my gait, not that pretty
look!
four pugs on a chain
city cerberus
concrete keeper
perpetual eater
grim reaper
shh
One leg up
on a concrete world
that idea spilled
like a cup
coffee
on the floor
my mind
sleep
Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 8:07 PM UTC
(this is basically talking about the character in the book im writing.
Love ya beef pugs)
Sitting on the beach,
The skies cold and gray,
A girl sings a song all ears can hear,
Strumming a guitar so close and dear.
Standing in a room of nails and cracked stones,
This girl waits tied up and alone,
The guitar she longs to run to.
Head hunched over a table,
Knots all in her hair,
The guitar girl works while peers just stare.
In a house so huge that trees touch the roof and
branches swish and sway,
The girl stands proud with her farther screaming loud
And her brother running away.
On this beach so cold and gray,
She plays music and melts away,
Sings the notes so sweet and true,
Her only way to fight life through.
On a tree so far and wide,
Holding hands with her only guide,
Watching the beach's moving tides,
Holding all her pain in so she won't cry.
Guitar girl winces at her name,
And no one knows why,
She protects her brother all the time,
No expression In her eyes.
Escape the world she always tries,
But you can only run so LONG without stopping.
At this beach she sits alone,the only place she calls home.
Singing songs so deep and true,
Playing a moving and loving tune
With the guitar her dead mother gave her.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 11:45 PM UTC
There's a hole in you
There's a hole I can see right through
There's a hole in everyone else too
They fill it with drugs
They fill it with pugs
They fill it with mugs
But nothing fits
They fall out every time you try to sit
Not even the hole filling kits
But if you run
If you turn right towards the sun
The hole makes a noise that's fun
So won't you run with me
You'll see
You can have holes and still be free
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
There are drugs.
There are pugs.
But my addiction,
Is not fiction.
Technically it is,
Since it's fantasy.
Maybe it's clear,
What my addiction issue to see.
But actually,
It's videogames.
I have a problem,
That requires medical help.
If I even see a videogame,
I will yelp.
Because otherwise I will waste my life away,
And I will not let that happen today.
But maybe I could play for a few minutes...
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 11:56 PM UTC
My hands open as our paths unfold
apart, and behind us, cities unfold.
Two Lycaenidae tear through the lavender field,
whispering new ways for their wings to unfold.
A book dances open, its words staring at the wide-
eyed wonder of woman, watching its truths unfold.
The breath of the ocean lingers, tasting of memories:
ice cream, vinegar, and warmth, as waves unfold.
Cookie dough, melting in the oven. The smell hits
hard, and I wish for the taste, in my mouth, to unfold.
Under plum blossoms, gardens of people cultivate
understanding, allowing their chanting to unfold.
A splash, as the boy is pushed down into water. He
rises, bonded by water, to his God, his faith to unfold.
Three pugs, home from patrolling the boulevard,
resting on their owner's lap, puppy love unfolds.
Our journeys have led to different roads.
My soul opens as our fears unfold.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
there's a fire in this madhouse of Venus
where unattainable romance gives birth
to cunty darkness and pleading clawish fingers
to obsessions of strange mental constructs
something about blood and tears
birthing black ******* and vampires
with vermillion mouths shaped in circles
that gorge themselves on violent thrusting *****
and ***** resembling mushed faced pugs
just asking for it
a woman's eyes burn like cigarettes
and tongues snake into esophageal
swoon revivals of glorious deliverance
flashing souls flit like street lights
and flames of wraith hair
she begs to be strangled with a black chord
and kissed till her brain blurs fizz
she dances
wigwam wiggle and clutches
like a sliding oyster
licking my *******
**** ***** and ruby *****
gagging repeatedly onto the hilting root
falling into submission
for her dark ******* god Faustian thing
a little doll with mythic eyes
a ******* wraparound mouthy wigged *****
with a baloney-pony disco stick orifice
will you **** me with your **** sir
a dark hunger gnaws deep within
so bleed me merciless
like a gushing artery
make me red dead in love in bed
butter **** and properly spread
pound me like a hell ***** ******
in a burning five alarm
emergency suicide ****
-
i corkscrew her
into a writhing
murderous wreckage
as she dissolves under me
like a sugar cube in hot tea and blood
christened by a magic wand
that forces her round belly
up and down like a toilet plunger
her ***** drools like runny yolks
a deep homework
the shamanic decent
an illusive weighing of the heart
the sweet meat priestess
who resuscitates abandoned legends
making my ***** click like castanets
a Mr. Winkey party
spewing Icelandic yogurt
her teeth rattle
as her brains and one eyeball
hang off my ****
like pig trough slobber
her face smiles
and vomits peaches
there's moon glitter
in your beautiful hair
my darling
God save the kink
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 2:35 PM UTC
Breathe and live.
Positive. Inviting every inch of me.
Testing waters.
Chemical inversion
My disturbance. Like a luxury.
So heaven like a tuxedo deal.
**** me see me luckily
Like coming up 7s real
While my stud husband
Cant stop ******* me.
My family jewels.
Tucked away. Dont **** with me.
Money comes so rare.
I swear.
I need to come up.
With a monthly.....
Self replenished
Money tree.....
And dont thinkbasis.
Is creative *** I made
The corners. Of the rug.
A ******* funny place
For pugs to ***
Them ugly looking *****
Something similar
To mister Donald Trump.
His ******* junk
Is made dysfunction.
The assumption. Being
Donald's *****
Is the reason.
Santas fat *** replaced jesus as the meaning of the season.
I should pull meat cleavers.
Pull the lever.
Move the temperature.
To jam rock.
Mary Jane with solidarity. And reach a fever.
And create a religion solely baced on marley vibes. And make Donald first believer.
Launch a soaked ****** At his roster of bodyguards.
And tell himeat it. You big dumb ******** creature.
Back to shadow moves.
Chaotic evil is my breed
Of feature. So ****** feed my need
Or show me fear.
But never show me fakeness.
I'm made for basic. Greatness.
Blame myteacher.
And my leaders
Cant take it here's a spoon.
Eat my *** and tell me how it tasted
Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 11:20 PM UTC
first seen in ellesmere with period characters we felt may be best removed.
lucky to have one on my birthday with lights from a battery quite reasonably
priced.
visiting town and gallery see them there are quite a lot. more money as craft.
seems little houses are fashionable now.
as are pugs.
sbm.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC