"staffy" poems
He struts through the street
With an arrogant stride
A staffy at his feet
Fills him with pride
Baseball cap on his head
Peak points in the air
Yea blood I'm hard
And I don't seem to care
Trackies and hoodies
Are the code of his dress
Big golden chains
Hang low on his chest
Sock's pulled up high
Above his designer boots
I'm a council house chav
So proud of me roots
I'm hard and I know it
And I'll rob ya of bread
Don't mess with me
Or you'll end up dead
His attitude stinks
Filth falls from his gob
With a chip on his shoulder
He don't want a job
But under the bravado
He's as quiet as a mouse
Living his life
From his council house
His mum is on drugs
His dad is long gone
No wonder this bloke
Turned out to be wrong
So show him some kindness
Just a friendly word
Might just be the the thing
That stops him doing bird
I somehow much doubt it
But its worth a try
Cause deep underneath
He's a friendly guy
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 3:16 AM UTC
It is not me
I am not bad
These misconceptions
Make me mad
The media frenzy
Blame the breed
The Staffy curse
Is sad to read
They don’t report
The positive things
The love we give
The joy we bring
We might be strong
And made of muscles
But we love our hugs
And playful tussles
We are devoted
With massive hearts
We run away form
Our smelly farts
If you know
A Staffy well
You’ll understand
My need to tell
We are not monsters
We are not evil
We are not savage
Or dogs of the devil
We are quite simply
Man’s best friend
Loyal and true
Right till the end
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
Toned, muscular, powerful beasts.
This is the way the world chooses to see.
Outraged, aggression, and dangerous too.
Scared one day, they might bite you.
Not even a second, by the looks, instant fear.
This so called 'reputation' makes us tear.
Continue to breed,
Continue to Buy.
Opt. to put them on a chain so tight.
Opt. to make them fight.
Judging them, at just first sight.
Not bad dogs, just bad owners.
When will the world see the light?
Toned, masculine, powerful features.
Beautiful and intelligent creatures.
Ever so loving, ever so loyal.
So goofy, and eager to please.
Eager to love, Eager for affection.
This is the way the world should see.
A family dog, a protector.
A comedian in ways.
A runway model with natural beauty.
A visitor, for those in pain and lonely.
A caregiver for rehabilitation.
A simple, lasting smile,
A kind that sparks and stays for awhile.
A partner against crime.
A team mate whose there all the time.
A worker, a player to love you at best.
A companion beyond special.
A dog, beyond the rest.
A love, in life, with whatever is next.
A best friend, to say the least.
A Staffies not A beast.
Staffies are the best.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC
I wanted to write a poem
about the incessant discomfort
I always feel in my left eye
whenever my contact lenses
become old and dry
I thought about how it tickles
but scratches at the same time
and starts off alright
just a minor annoyance
but quickly, overtime
becomes almost unbearable
like my pre-school bully himself
is folding down one of my eyelashes
just enough for it to poke me
at the slightest movement
then I thought about how
I'd sooner write a poem about my life
and how it started out equally alright
and quickly, overtime became almost unbearable
as if my pre-school bully didn't do it right
so I found him in his adult life many years later
wife, two kids and a mortgage
yappy staffy-cross, two cars
and an alright job as a graphic designer
his garden full of gorgeous flowerbeds,
a full head of hair and a fading right hook
"MAKE ME FEEL **** LIKE YOU DID THEN."
a puzzled look on his face,
garden hose flooding his drive and the yappy
staffy-cross still yapping away
at the living room window
"I'M DEAD SERIOUS ANDREW,
NOTHING HURTS LIKE IT USED TO."
so he called the police
and I never got to feel young again
unless you count scurrying away from
a council estate under the threat of
a poor meal at Parkside police station
the rekindling of my youth
so this is my infomercial poem
about how not to confront someone
always be fully clothed
that's very important
avoid being drunk
any mind altering substance
is best avoided in my opinion
remember just because you care
just because you remember
does not mean anyone else does
oh and
don't eyeball craft beer when
you still have your contacts in
you know what?
-just don't eyeball craft beer
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 6:02 PM UTC
The bushland calls
Of my childhood dreams
Amongst the wild
My soul it, sings
The gentle breeze
light upon the skin
Sun upon my face
it welcomes me in
To the lands of summers
Though now long gone
Memories of the heats haze
With a white juvenile horse
Within a closed off field it lay
But young and free it was born
Birds flying high above
Shielding the rays of the sky
Perfectly clear a crystal bright blue
Not a single cloud in sight
Fields filled with nothing
But the dirt beneath our feet
Dull patches of green and yellow
Amongst cattle it feeds
A rooster it crows loud
The chooks begin to run
As bruce, a little staffy
Chases them about
Work shed full of tools
Covered by a rusted tin roof
Parked beside it old barrols
And a broken down ute
Stone walls of the house
To keep it cool inside
Spread across the cold floors
A reddish brown cowhide
Worn down leather couch
Out upon the front porch
An eski filled with stubbies
Where the boys had their "talks"
I feel the memories flooding back
This peacefulness, this sense of home
Hours pass by within seconds
Losing myself in the zone
My footsteps have long faded with time
As has my name once carved upon the gumtrees
The white stallion no longer grazes near by
Nor do the same cattle dwell in that field
Worn down by time and way of the land
Though I do intend to return again
To share the beauty of this place
Drawn back by the old fate
The day melts away like the snow
And I hear my parent calling my name
This place will forever be my second home
Because I know here, I'll never be alone
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 7:58 AM UTC
I’ve always been quite lonely, never been a ‘people person’,
Quite comfy in my own self pity, with my wall up, imprisoned.
Always had a chip, and hole for good measure,
Never been happy so only God knew pleasure.
But there was this one man, who took me under his wing,
Looked deep into my heart and knew he could do something.
You see, he offered a gift, a tiny little staffy pup,
He said I should care for her, and with her share my love.
And so I took her from him and stared deep into her eyes
Right then I named her Zena, and a bond was hers and mine.
She has never left my side and will not do so by choice
Not only does she listen but I’m sure I hear her voice.
A voice which helps me focus, this here is a new beginning.
Now, at last, I have another reason for living
It seems she gives me reason, to be grown up and safe.
To be more responsible and to pay rent for my place.
To get up each morning and take her for a run,
To make sure we have shopping in and always have fun.
I make sure she is disciplined, clean and well behaved.
That’s a mum all in itself , from that I was depraved.
I suffer with bipolar and this she seems to know,
She licks the healing wounds and nuzzles me with her nose.
She licks the tears from my face, and she lays across my lap.
Shows me her belly hoping for a good scratch,
She knows this makes me smile, the cheekiness the catch.
She is a big girl 5 stone to be exact.
Harmless yet loyal, though only fools would test that fact!
She is beautiful and powerful and I’m honoured to be her mum,
I owe more than my life to my princess, for what she’s helped me become.
I was at rock bottom, on the verge of suicide
And then along came Zena, who simply looked into my eyes.
Dedea
27th April 17
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 6:50 PM UTC