"retriever" poems
I am a Transgender Citizen - ( An American Citizen )
I am a Transgender MTF - ( With Opinion's )
I am a Transgender Female - ( With Feeling's )
I am a Transgender Girl - ( With Emotion's )
I am a Transgender Woman - ( With Love )
I am a Transgender Christian - ( With Faith )
I am a Transgender Parent - ( Of 2 Beautiful Yellow Labrador Retriever's )
I am a Transgender Friend - ( Too Many People )
I am a Transgender Sister - ( Too My Many Sister's )
I am a Transgender Sister - ( Too My Many Brother's )
I am a Transgender Daughter - ( Who Currently Isn't Loved By ? )
I am a Transgender Person - ( Who Vote's )
I am a Transgender LBGTQ - ( Who Accept's ALL )
I am a Transgender , Who has too Hide , Because most of Society
Say's they love Unconditionally , But Only if - I / We / Us - are who , They say We are . And "" NOT "" who We say We are
GOD - Created Me & You & Them & Yet "" ? ""
They & Sometimes even Us Judge each other "" ? ""
And yet GOD clearly Tells Us , "" NOT to JUDGE "" each other
But too Instead "" LOVE "" one another
By day I am a Person , I do not wish too Be
On weekdays I am a Person , I do not wish too Be
By Night time I am the Girl , I want too Always Be
On Weekends I am Mostly the Girl , I want too Always Be
And so You all can "" CLEAR'LY "" see
I am A Transgender Person / Female
Named Stacie Leelah Cheyenne
I AM in fact "" ME ""
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
My life was saved the other day
A golden retriever, both dumb and brave.
Country winds howling in their greatest defense
As I waltzed 'tween electric and barbed-wire fence.
He let out a bark, “It's time to turn back!”
Soon followed a powerful THUD and a CRA-A-A-CK.
If not for that old dog running after me,
I would have been stuck under a fallen oak tree.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
Snitch-catcher.
Cauldron-stirrer.
Wand-waver.
Quidditch-player.
Stone-retriever.
Riddle-killer.
Buckbeak-rider.
Triwizard-enterer.
Phoenix-member.
Snape-hater.
Voldemort-fighter.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 4:20 PM UTC
*Story..
Stories
I have a story to tell
It's a tragic one as usual*
A day goes by. Silence reigns and birds cuckoo
While this happens..
Two people sit under a tree
Using it as a rendezvous
For usual meetings
They met...
Once...
In ten days
They enjoyed it
I helped another person
and he tried to help me
I did a better job of helping him
that's what I think..
Anyways, once they met
they enjoyed it
they would talk together
and climb a tree
Play with a dog, which was a
golden retriever
They are big!
It was a lot of fun
Often playing Videogames
like..
Mario kart..?
That was a day
and it happened on
an occasional basis
when both of them could spare some time
from their daily time consuming life
----------------------------------------------------------------
One day however
A bright sunny day
A sunday afternoon
filled with birds flying about
nearly the end of the school year
It was all going by wonderfully
We had met another time
because you called me
and told me to help you out
and just to relieve the stress
that the school year had put on us
We climbed a tree
with a rope on it
it was pretty tall
about 10 feet high
I remember talking about self harm..
..and ways to **** oneself
and I gave up climbing and jumped off
the rope
6 feet
straight down
on my back/ankles
It hurt like batshit crazy
but i told you I managed through it
then later
when talking to our friends
I let it slip
I told her about my failed attempt
I was really depressed after that
It actually FAILED!
Well, now more people knew about it
and these rumors spread fast
as you would know
I was still fine with school
just.. I became more depressed
My grades were fine
I was nearly at the end of the year
nearly there.
nearly
And then
I realized
that
Mockingbirds
are similar to humans
they don't talk much
at the time of crisis
but they remember
it, and pass it onwards
They don't lie.
Mockingbirds dont lie
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
I wake to the news of another lynching
As our boys scream Bleed Blue
And over the border, the Green Girls rejoice
And somewhere in Jharkhand
Two families mourn the death of their men
Cattle traders? Terrorists? Muslim?
With cloth stuffed in their throats
And arms tied behind
Hatred showing in the mob mentality
Another dark blot on our secular fabric
And I watch a short film, India, India
Of a young boy on Tuesday selling ganeshas at a temple
Another image of the same boy on a Friday
Selling taweez and chanting Ya Ali
Outside Mumbai’s Haji Ali
And on Sunday, the same boy singing the praises
of the Lord outside a church, selling amulets
And I smile
This is the India I love, the different faiths
The acceptance, the co-existence
As the morning drones on, I watch and participate
In the endless debates on Facebook and Twitter
Of people posing, taking sides, sounding pedantic
While they sit comfortably in their homes
Sipping ginger tea made by an underage maid
While their Labrador retriever is taken for a walk
By their Nepali driver and the Muslim cook smokes a bidi
In the garden with the Bihari maali where their son plays
But what will happen to the sons of the lynched cattle traders?
What will happen to the brothers of the women *****
What will happen to the mothers of the sons killed?
What will happen to the fathers of the unborn children
Killed for their mistake of being a girl child?
Is this the India we want to grow up in?
Is this the India we want to have children in?
Is this the India we want to grow old in?
Wake up, my country, it is still dawn
The road is long and far and we have miles to walk
Towards peace and freedom and love
Towards acceptance and equality and oneness
Get off that sofa and make a difference
Participate, vote, empower, create, enable
It’s up to you whether our country goes this way or that
So, wake up, my country, it is still dawn
Wake up, my country, it is still dawn
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 7:57 AM UTC
sitting across from you in this quiet library
while we do homework,
i look at you and wonder-
how did i get so lucky to be loved by you?
6 months ago you asked me out.
6 months of pure happiness and love,
6 months of never once questioning if you do love me,
only knowing that you do.
and now, we look forward to the rest of our lives,
together.
loving someone has never been easier,
it's like second nature,
as simple and innate as breathing.
your fluffy brown curls,
stunning hazel eyes,
and adorable silver and navy glasses;
unparalleled intelligence,
kindness, goofiness, dorkiness,
lovability- my golden retriever boy.
you always take care of me,
especially when my adhd and anxiety get bad,
and i always take care of you,
especially when you're tired and dehydrated.
i love you
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 11:08 PM UTC
You need to pay a sin tax
for the way you talk smack,
calling me your property
your syntax is making me
over. the. hill.
I’m heels over head with
you
making me crazy
the way that you speak
your diction’s too weak.
“you’re so nice”
how boring, I choose more
elegant words
to describe your glory
I could write
a five-page double-spaced
essay about you
and get accepted to your ivy league
I could wrap my
arms around you
like ivy on stone
hang you up to dry
on the
clothesline
til you answer the
telephone
I could cling to
you
like static
on your sweater
you better
not
flick.me.off.
Hell, my poetry ain’t free
it’s about as free as
slaves
I have confines, rules
bats in caves
It costs me thoughts
and time
and frustration
costs me more than just greenbacks
and a vacaction.
you need to pay up
talk isn’t cheap
your words cost you
attention
even if
my love don’t cost a thing
I train you like a golden
retriever
you retrieve my orders
like a wide receiver
my language is figurative
but your actions are derivative
you’re confusing me
like
trigonometry
love triangles are not my thing.
our
l θve i ∫ a sin(x)
cos we go off on
tangents and don’t know where to
begin
first we’re infatuated
then we’re done
next we’re inebriated
then we have some fun
happens so fast
then we come together at last
This rollercoaster of emotion
has me puking again
I’m trying to calculate this algorithm
in my head.
its so complicated
I’ll need something else instead.
in this kaleidoscope
I see
many sides
of you and me
I spin it round to try to understand
all I see is a blur of colors
even when I hold your hand.
I wish I could see
the thoughts you hide
from me
I want to understand
you’re radioactive
your face is glowing
even in pitch black
your smile is showing
but, I never get to see
your eyes
make me crazy
hazy
they trip me up
and pull me down
periodically, you’re in your element
and everything clicks
then we stick and the chemistry’s quick
but then you open your mouth
garbage spurts out
I think it’s about time
I take you out
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 2:06 PM UTC
1367
“Tomorrow”—whose location
The Wise deceives
Though its hallucination
Is last that leaves—
Tomorrow—thou Retriever
Of every tare—
Of Alibi art thou
Or ownest where?
3.3k
Happy thoughts shape shifting into illusions of monsters.
Metamorphosis.
A caterpillar to a butterfly.
That's the final phase of that lonely caterpillar.
War of the mind.
I'm morphing into a hideous demon.
The face melting into a pile of mush.
Broken limbs, torn flesh,
skin oozing to the floor.
That is what WE want...
A man made metamorphosis.
Now the limbs can be reconstructed into the proper shape.
Molding, bandaging, painting.
Perfect eyebrows,
luscious lips,
rosy cheeks,
smile plastered on.
It all looks real.
No raised eyebrows even with all the head turning,.
Neck breaking.
The unimaginable has been deemed the reality.
We are not what we eat.
If we were we would be perfect.
Eating the perfect politicians in their perfectly pressed suits.
Eating the American Dream.
The marriage. The happy home with 2.5 kids ad a golden retriever named Annie.
We are broken now.
All of these falsities have morphed into something terrible.
Reality.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
Golden Retriever puppy kisses
Doughnuts with hot chocolate
Making love in a field of flowers
A found twenty in an old pair of jeans
A hug from a beautiful stranger for no reason at all
Life is euphoria occasionally, celebrate the treasures
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
We are told to be happy
told to be healthy
'Go to the university, son'
to be handed intelligence
'Make some money,
marry a pretty girl.'
Force children into the world
to do as you did.
Live in a nice house
for the rest of your days.
Sit outside and watch your happy
healthy
normal children
play.
You'll hardly hear the whimper
of the sparrow
caught in the teeth of your
purebred black labrador retriever.
A bird with a broken wing
expected to live a life of flight.
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
Sound asleep, dead to the world. Enjoying the best sleep in a long time. Then the alarm goes off and I roll over to turn it off. The blaring sound goes away and I relapse into a peaceful slumber. On my only day off, I find rest to be bliss, but alas life is not perfect and my wife has other plans. The battle is fought once a week, with new and creative ways found to jar me from my sleep, but on this particular day I am determined to not be bothered. So through 3 alarm clocks and innumerable catcalls I snooze on. Only rolling to one side or the other to avoid the harassment that seeks to steal my peaceful sleep. Then as if by design, I begin to have the most elaborate dream. Wrapped in a sheet, I am held fast as my feet slip and slide in the mud. For a moment I feel the ooze beneath my feet. Then at a moments notice, the ooze is replaced by warm water running over my toes. I begin to giggle as the water feels as if it is filled with sand. Then to my stark surprise, I open my eyes to find my feet slathered in peanut butter and my golden retriever licking my feet to relieve me of the ooze of which I had dreamed. Thus once again my wife wins the battle, and rattles me from my slumber with a furry alarm clock and a list of things for me to do today.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
Somebody put Kylie Minogue on
from the wall mounted touchscreen one-pound-a-go jukebox-
Coldplay would've been better, but I should be so lucky-
and the rising water in the Titanic's engine room of noise
rose to a First Class stateroom chatter and Kate Winslet
and the queue to the bar grew a little longer
and then
you
walked
in
like
a
Sunday
morning
walk,
one long stroll by a river edge or lake side,
through a Westfield, Bluewater Meadowhall
in one long rehearsed map move entrance
dodging standing drinkers and their plus ones in Zara trench coats and Boden shawls,
and you left a wake of wet forest and crumbling beachhead afternoons behind you as you
walked
on
through
the
crowd
to the pool table at the back where you watched
*** after ***
after pint
after ***
after we need more one pound coins to play more pool,
and you went out for **** though you don't smoke yourself
and you looked up into the mist because you're the kind that would find New York Stuart Little big:
mostly building, building, building, window, balcony, bridge, statue and Central Park trees,
and you walked back in with river eyes, your lids moving from cold back to behind-the-fridge, pub-room warm
and they watered a little, Pacific blue sliding over eternal black;
I think she's the kind that needs a lion tamer not an orchestra leader,
but I've only got Petit Filous muscles and I had four raw eggs this morning and I'm still not as strong as I’d like to be,
(put the baton down, Tim)
a River Phoenix younger Harrison Ford stasis, one train wreck ride to remember,
nowhere near the lion tamer you need.
Kylie sings for the fifteenth time in a row,
and the bar is past last orders though cash is pushed under for pints
and you disappeared under bar light
and then into the moonlight
and now I'm sat grieving
the Golden Retriever of The Nutshell
in Bury St Edmunds this evening.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
It's taking everything I’ve ever had,
not to crawl into the crevice between your arm and hip.
I want seep inside of you
and live with you,
like the parasite I am.
I’ve bribed to God to make you love me,
And bargained away my future sins.
I want to forget the golden retriever
You took on walks longer than our **********
And the way your body writhed beneath my touch
Like a body bracing for a car-crash,
And how with every kiss
I could feel your rigor mortis set in.
I want to read you poems about Kurt Cobain,
While we do ******* at midnight in Golden Gate Park.
And watch you have a visceral reaction
To the memories
Of the times you tasted someone else’s skin.
Instead I’ll
dye my hair black,
Cancel all my credit cards,
And run away to Chicago
to Cheapen myself
and reek of Popov
In a dive bar next to the railroad,
That no one’s heard of
so you can tell strangers
in the subway
and at the New Year’s party,
(at which you’ll meet your wife)
how much I’ve always meant to you
and how
You will always wonder what happened to me
(Even though
you won't.)
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 11:18 PM UTC
White american men with
gold retriever dogs
smoke black hatred,
not recognizing a grey smog.
Scared of black, brown --
all atheists are ill --
but not afraid of greenbacks
or guys named Bill.
Okay.
Here's your day job. Here's your pay, Bob.
America the great.
If terrorists equal Muslim
then Christians equal hate.
You say it's not victimization.
You say it's not a hunt.
You say it's not intimidation,
but sometimes I think you
see people as witches, ****
Christ is the answer, indeed.
Without Him we're all lost
and our souls will never be freed.
Like tears frozen in the frost.
Bibles, crucifixes to fix the diseased mind.
How much does a prayer have to cost
to be genuinely kind?
Chemtrails stain pages
and bleed as curses.
Gay rights to be denied,
according to bible verses.
Nursery rhymes and cult games,
all in the good old King James.
Archaic and inane,
like an alter sheltered brain.
Here's your day job. Here's your pay, Bob.
Use the check to pay
angels and evangelists.
Protect yourself from ideas,
and buy a white picket fence.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
At the crack of dawn the rusted screen door hinges squealed;
he placed his hands on the push handles,
and shifted his weight forward.
Front wheels, up!
The bare rear-wheel rims scarred the mahogany threshold,
and the seat cushion squeaked a little louder
under her almost-dead weight.
*Cusco! *******
Like every other morning for the last thirteen years
the old retriever gave him a blank stare,
its glass eye bleedin’ blue.
Hold on, Edna.
They made a quick one-eighty ‘round the dog’s empty food bowl,
avoided one of the craters in the floorboards,
and came to a halt on the landing.
We’re almost there, dear.
Edna did her morning wheelie down the porch steps.
The liver spots on her hands seemed larger
in the early morning rays.
Here we go, Edna!
The wheels sank away and whispered over the lawn;
the birds stopped chirping as if they listened,
and the river birch waved good mornin’.
Almost there, now.
They passed the birch and pulled up under the apricot tree;
the blossoms’ shadows danced her to sleep,
and her oxygen tank hissed blue ******
There, there, darling.
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 5:18 AM UTC
As long as it doesn't affect me;
as long as it's not immediately relevant
and something I have to immediately worry about;
as long as it doesn't **** up
my credit score
or my
shiny
new
house
then,
**** it.
And
**** you,
for bringing it to my attention.
how dare you.
this was promised to me,
it's predestined,
my two-story, three bedroom, two bath; the foreign workmanship and american artifice; the creamy halo of vinyl in the sun; the wrath of windexed windows and their hard missiles of bright, reflected sunlight; the soft lips of my children; my wife's pillowy, warm stomach and scratchy ***** our retriever that eats his own **** picking apart tiny specks of feces from the sun-pricked tips of our rug of fescue; these are the works of God, this is the land of God. You are marring this flat earth
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 10:21 PM UTC
Today I saw an ad on the TV for the good life
$129.99 and all you ever wanted delivered to your door in a box
Shipping and handling included
The man in the commercial had a big smile on
And a golden retriever by his side
Were sitting under palm trees
Smoking cigars...
Who doesn't want a cigar smoking golden retriever?
So I called up the toll free number and demanded a good life...
One week later the box came in the mail
"There's no way a golden retriever could fit in there"
I thought to myself
"Not even a puppy retriever
These must be the cigars"
No cigars
Just pills
"Of course" thought I
"Eating these will take me away
To an alternate reality
With palm trees, smiles
And cigar smoking dogs
Duh"
So I ate the pill and closed my eyes
Awaiting lift off
Like I've done so
Many times before
One Mississippi
Two Mississippi
Three, four, five Mississippi...
And you know what happened next?
My **** got hard for hours
That's it
Who's the sick SOB
Who's idea of a good life
Is an unexplainably long
Lasting *****
I alerted the authorities
Called the FDA
They must have the answers...
They just told me to visit the nearest hospital
Everything will be fine...
From that point on
I have been lost inside
And refuse to go outside
I shut my windows
And I lock the door
I can't make sense of it...
Why would I need to visit the docs?
I'm not the one thinking
Long lasting ******
Equals the good life
****** don't make retrievers smoke cigars
I'm not the one with the problem
Am I?
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
Reading from it's book of absurdity, for you and me is a daily routine,
do I get conditioned to meekly accept life's brutal reality you ask me
Even on a bed of burning coal, I've seen dancers amaze with alacrity,
I fight back those slings and arrows with the sheer verve of my poetry.
From lonely walks, through inner paths every time I return smiling
my golden retriever faithfully follows with the day's happy find.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
**** that ***** is thick....
that's a big *** Labrador Retriever.....*
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 9:19 PM UTC
The smell of coffee
The laughter of the early shoppers
Classic love songs
An open window
Sunrise
The sound of the birds
mingles perfectly with the rough
sound of the motorcycles and the waves
The morning sky
The excited tapping of flip flops
The local paper boy
A crumpled bed
Fresh bread
"Hey Marianna! Come down and
have some coffee! I got a new
story!" There goes my neighbor Old Jorge
Messy morning hair
The noise of the wooden stairs
Wrinkled night shirt
Sunny side up
Wild Rice
Listening to old Jorge's classic
story for the 67th times while
breathing in the morning sea breeze
The yellow butterfly
The ringing of the church bell
A smiling passerby
An old bicycle
A kiss
"Morning Marianna!"
There goes Karla in her denim shorts
and long legs and sweet smile and pretty nails
The playing kids
The old lady with a sprinkler
The swaying green leaves
Lazy golden retriever
Pretty girls
Ah! If I could grab the
whole world in the palm of
my hands and keep it in my pocket..
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
i have just moved all our pictures
into the hidden folder
the graveyard of memories
my heart aches with endless yearning
sorrow, grief and regret
our love was so short-lived
like a helpless little kitten
that died before it ever got a chance
to fully experience the wonders of life
our love was a flickering candle flame
that burnt so bright
and fizzled so soon
my tattooed golden retriever
my soldier, my love
you said it was "right person, wrong time"
but what if the timing could never favour upon us?
what if we could never find our way back to each other?
May 11, 2025
May 11, 2025 at 5:30 AM UTC
She is green tea with honey,
summer days and blonde hair.
She is a golden retriever
and a husky,
happy, intelligent, yet reserved.
She is the beach and a sunrise,
campfires and s’mores in the warm air
breathing in the dust and smoke,
laughing about two years ago.
She is incense and paintings,
blue walls and ceilings,
she is a ***** joke said
offhand with raised eyebrows,
she is stacks of books and video games,
she is bubblegum ice cream and
walking through a cemetery.
She is old technology and practicality,
she is punctuality and arriving
early with a peach smoothie in hand.
She is the cold shock of river water.
She is alternative music blaring from
a ****** car radio and a road trip
where everyone but the driver falls asleep.
She is rock candy and ice cream bars, riding the biggest
roller coaster ten times over again.
She is a content silence and
a sly smile.
She is mine and you cannot have her.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
My thirst for conversation has continued to impress me
Fills me with stories helping to shape another in my eyes
Met with friend for a mutual exchange of identity
An interview with questions directed; I asked first
Starting with the earliest formulation of conscious thought
Hers was the return of a sick father
She eagerly embraced him when he arrived home safely
Vividly describes the large red chair present
I transitioned to exchange of reflection most powerful
Searching for a single memory of hers that stood alone
Her face brightened, her eyes shining with nostalgia
Her dog’s name was Max
Max entered her life when she was one year old
On the celebration of her birth in fact
He was the runt of the pack, a ruby retriever
Grew to maturity and average size, with love
Max made his way into her writing in the classroom
His possible harm one of her first worries
He was a cherished family pet, she loved him with all her heart
Being a young child, sometimes she was too rough
Cancer took Max from this world at nine years of age
He was buried under a peach tree in the back yard
The peaches swollen and ripe make death turn to life
To this day they represent the sweetness of his soul
Her early years were full of stress at thought of parental separation
Subject to fickle fears and frozen emotions
Her true panic began in high school days
Developed into distinguishable attacks and episodes
There were never tangible reasons or focus points for fear
Racing thoughts, vertigo chills, imminent death
Creeping insanity and the dry, frustrating inability to swallow
Worsened as college approached and the familiar faded fast
Week one was worse than any panic period yet
Heart flutters, helplessness and disorienting dizzy spells
Friends were far away or had yet to be encountered
Sympathy for perceived insanity ran thin
These experiences require constant care and medication
Hospital visits and appointments with understanding ear
She shared her life with me through effect of anxiety
I shared in turn, but couldn’t help distraction
We did not record the interview so I took it upon myself
Documenting with equal force her story and my amazement
Dec 2, 2010
Dec 2, 2010 at 4:01 PM UTC
This is mine
Sweet wine delusion
Slipping in
With life illusion
Mixing amidst
This wind and sun
A gold retriever
Belly rub
~
emerging from my repose
this poem slipping from my lips
i glimpse Athena’s yellow streak
sinking teeth into
two wings
while six
shriek away
still again another corpse
ingloriously amidst the grass
hosting my meditations
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 5:14 PM UTC