dust cloud heavy
in an apricot sky
cottonwood mucker
under ambrose pale
whippet and shepherd
mill at the earth patch
yellow birch hangs
over red bench park

combine shavings
in crack rust brown
scissors chips fall
at the back stop
whiskey jack looters
sing patented chords
siblings (and 2 wheel enthusiasts!)
give thanks

joyous retrievers
master the criss cross
bare maples stand
at settlers way
barred owl and blue jay
whistle in the fore-wind
ghosts
and goblins
pull on the seeds

wind gusts belt
over the west gulch
a blood rush churns
in the chilling fall morn
hallowed grounds still
at the midday
quiet reflections
of the afghan
and hound

jumpers unite
at the oxbow
route runners bend
(on a sultry foray!)
meadows exposed
in the framework
ball parks empty
with pennants past

barrel dirt favors
the brew house
crimson and copper
find bracken ridge gate
harvest hands savor
the honey and hops
blankets of color
for a winter's hatch

brush fire kept
under steady peruse
bark bites fly
and embers glow
pine cones drop
from the timber tops
3 wick candles
grace the dinner place

shiver and ******
at the piper's call
cob web dew
on the shadowy gates
a chilled mist mellows
the season's return ~
poets and artists
and dreamers awake

Le Whippet de  mon ami Bernard

Tu es entre chien et coursier
Avec ton museau effilé
Tes oreilles se dressent hauts
Comme le Dieu-Chien égyptien Anubis
Ton pelage ras fait penser
A un Kangourou tigré
Ou à un Léopard satiné.
Tes pattes de coureur de fond
Te donnent un air d'Antilope
Prêt à disputer une course.

Tu es de la race des lévriers
Si prisée par les princes Arabes
Et aussi les Lords anglais.
Ces lévriers qui fendent l’air
Comme les gazelles d’Afrique.
Tout en toi est fait pour la course
Ton corps est sculpté pour courir
Ton museau est comme un drakkar
Qui fend l’air pour gagner la course
Dans les prairies et les déserts.

Tu es un des chiens bienveillants
Si gentil avec les enfants
Qui prend des airs de Patricien
Quand sur le sofa il se tient.
Mais tu sais aussi rester sage
Veillant sur la paix de tes maîtres
Et apportant à la maison
«Inédit» est ton nom d’année
Un «grand cru» pour les Lévriers.

Paul d’Aubin (Paul Arrighi)

Through her eyes I see her soul,
And the sadness when they roll,
Her nose as black as coal,
Though sweet as a baby foal,

She has teeth like broken china,
And a tongue like a pink recliner,
Her face like a piece of art,
That was crafted from the heart,

She has ears like paper origami,
That could hear a foreign tsunami,
Her neck forms an arch,
Like a piece of twisted larch,

Her brisket is as deep as the sea,
And holds the lock to my key,
Her legs like a vintage chair,
That walks with grace and care,

She has a body built for speed,
When running she takes the lead,
Her heart races like a lambaguini,
Although It might seem quite teeny,

Her muscles tense like a fierce stallion,
Like an athlete ready to win a medallion,
Her body is so aerodynamic,
When she runs she makes the wind panic,

Her tail swooshes from side to side,
As she holds her head in great pride,
Her coat as black as leather,
And as soft as a ducks feather,

It shimmers like a stream,
When the sun makes it gleam,
Her little dashes of white,
Are oh so pure and bright,

Never will I feel of despair,
Cause I know my best friend is there!!!

My whippet ran
as fast as the wind.

With a cheetahs gate
he could catch all.

And now he rests
his race is done,
all rabbits happy.

*Shanzi is a syllabic poem in seven lines  4/5 5/4 4/4/5
Unrhymed
Lines 1 and 2   INTRODUCE the SUBECT
Lines 3 and 4   AMPLIFY what is affected by the image/subject.
Line 5 thru 7    Focus on NEW SUBJECT that complements and provides a meditative conclusion.
Shanzi may be Titled

Today I lost a dear friend.
She loved with unconditional love;
the type you can not buy or barter
she would instinctively know when I was near
and would wait patiently by the front door
a 6th sense beyond what we see or what we hear
what we think we heard or what we thought we saw.

She had golden hair with flecks of mottled brown
smiling eyes that knew friend from foe
loyally walk side by side
without fear in the darkest places
where ever we would go

I remember that time before;
id broken up with a girl of 5 years
she knew something hidden was very wrong,
although I hid the tears, let the feelings cower
she sat upon my legs, a paw on each shoulder
nestled her head into my neck
and hugged me for at least an hour

She was a lady of grace,
with the poise of pedigree
with an open heart for those close she loved;
her immediate family, close friends and me.

She would've made a winning frisbee catcher
that'll be the greyhound whippet in her genes
zig zag sprinting faster than the wind itself
hares and foxes was her excited prize
lay low among the undergrowth unseen
other than her piercing forever watching eyes

Yesterday, like any other day she dug for stones
chased her reflection on the water
and stood guard as we slept
little did we know the excitment of a fox to chase
would stop her heart and for hours after
my father, who kept his emotions in check,
was left speechless and bereft  
as he uncontrollably wept.

Today I lost a dear friend,
a companion like no other
an amalgamated sense of loss,
like a sister from another mother.

Her last breaths, there are no words
to look upon her slowly glazing eyes
wrapped in a shroud and placed in a box
she will be sorely missed
departed from the ones she loved
to the land of the chasing fox;
muted words exchanged -
the last goodbye
the forever kiss.

Corrie
Rest in Peace
1999 - 2013

My Whippet gone,
now dust once again.

I've given him back,
from whence he came.

To run again
in cosmic fields,
waiting to be born.

*Shanzi is a syllabic poem in seven lines  4/5 5/4 4/4/5
Unrhymed
Lines 1 and 2   INTRODUCE the SUBJECT
Lines 3 and 4   AMPLIFY what is affected by the image/subject.
Line 5 thru 7    Focus on NEW SUBJECT that complements and provides a meditative conclusion.
Shanzi may be Titled

Harrogate, TN  November, 2014

The spot is empty where he sat close by my feet
And gazed at me with loving whippet eyes, but
Not as empty as the hollow in my heart.

His walking lead hangs by the door
Reminding me each time I pass
That I must learn to walk alone.

His favorite toy, abandoned now,
Brings tears where it once brought
Laughter at his antics as he played.

This well loved dog, my mate of many years
Was very like the decade of my youth
With me for a certain special time, then gone.

A candle in the darkness of my grieving
Lights the places where all the good times were
And becomes a beacon for my memories forever.
           ljm

The whippet stoops low with snow on its snout
He sniffs the air, is Christmas about?

Red robin sits perched singing rousing Christmas carols
Of reindeer's, snowmen and mulled wine in oak barrels

A squirrel stands alert guarding a great Christmas sack
Full of presents for Christmas that he had to pack

And the cat can be found baking a rich Christmas cake
Waiting for Christmas to arrive, when the children awake

Then they all settle down in their warm Christmas house
And sleep until spring like a tired dormouse

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

Night raids on Salt End
were legendary… It were a
giant chemical works with ship docks,
silos, storage tanks, fuel dumps,
an ideal 'drop off point' for Gerry…

But Salt End plant’s night raids
on Hedon Road
weren’t gonna daunt our lot,
they lived a mile or so down the lane to Preston
and seemed unafraid of gerri’n shot.

But they built a shelter across’t main road
in a field… On the outside It were a haystack
within the walls, six foot thick… proper beds
on hay bails to the front and back... cosy.

Down the middle was a ‘lounge’ with chairs,
lights, a radio - electric run from’t big ‘ouse
It’s better than being at’ome our Charlie used to say
For the eldest (and the architect) he’d not much nowse.

Me mam (then 19) told me she bussed it into Hull
“****** the Doodlebugs” She needed Jitterbugs…
and they still danced at City Hall.
******* to Gerry and his mates.
Margie & her pal René,
dauntless, they had a right ball!

Last Bus to ‘Withernsea’ from town
dropped her off at the junction
by the Speedway on Hedon Road.
Just as her way was lit by fire bombs - all about
when Gerry dropped his final unaimed load
Maybe ack-ack’d sort him out.

She was 2 miles from home… every few seconds another blast.
Scuttling …dodging whistling incendiaries,
running fast, whippet like…
any second could’ve been her last
anything too close she’d have to jump in't ****.

She couldn’t mek it t’t shelter or house so picked
the coal shed - instead… threw herself down
on coals…noise lifted - silence dawned… all clear
heavy breathing - not hers -  she wan’t alone
What if it’s one of them - a downed ***** airman.

Nervous, terrified more like she let out a little shudder
a gentle cough… to test her nerve
“Is that you Margie?… You daft ******!”
It were brother Tom… He’d been t’t Nags Head
and he’d run the opposite way from the village instead.

THERE ARE TWO BREEDS, WHIPPET AND THE ITALIAN GREYHOUNDS
THE ITALIAN AND GRAY GREYHOUNDS ARE RACING DOGS
WHAT MAKES THEM DIFFERENT FROM ANY OTHER DOG IS THEIR SLIM SLEEK BODY AND LONG LEGS
SO THE GREYHOUND DOG IS BUILT TO RUN
IN FACT, THEY ARE CAPABLE IN RUNNING 60 MILES PER HOUR
WE AS HUMANS HAVING ONLY TWO LEGS ARE LUCKY WE CAN MOVE ONE MILE
BUT BACK TO THE GREYHOUND DOG
IT’S ABOUT A RACE
DUST FLYING ALL OVER WITH THE MANUEVERING TRACE
JUST LIKE A HORSE RACE, PEOPLE WAGER THEIR BETS
ALSO LIKE RACE HORSES, THERE ARE MANY GREYHOUND DOGS TO CHOSE ALL WITH IDENTIFICATION NAMES
WHAT HAPPENS DURING THE RACE AND AFTER NOW THAT REMAINS
THE GREYHOUND DOG LEGS MOVE SWIFTLY IN PRECISION
THEY CLASSIFIED BY DIVISION
RULES THAT GOVERN ARE PREVISIONS
BUT THE GREYHOUND DOGS HAVE KEEN VISION
SOME PEOPLE ADOPT AS PETS
BUT ANY GREYHOUND DOG IS A WINNER REGARDLESS OF LOSING RACE REGRETS
I HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO ACTUALLY WITNESS A GREYHOUND DOG RACE AT THE GREYHOUND PARK IN DAYTONA BEACH, FLORIDA
AS I WAS WATCHING, MY GREYHOUND DOG WON, BUT I DIDN’T PLACE A BET
NOW THAT WAS MY ONLY REGRET
THE GREHOUND DOG IS ABOUT SPEED
THEIR OFF, THE SHOOTING GUN IN THE AIR AND ELECTRONIC RABBIT TO PROCEED
READY, SET AND GO
THIS NARRATOR EDUCATED YOU IN BEING IN THE KNOW.

"Transporting a Dream" by Old Poet MK, brought back to mind an episode when I was in my 20’s, and working in an insurance office in San Diego with a night job as a waitress at a Beatnik Coffee House.  I was in love with a wandering folk singer who had left to perform at a club in Oklahoma City and I missed him terribly.
He called late one Friday night and said why not come there and drive back to California with him.  At first I told myself all the reasons it would be impossible. Then my heart told me I had to find a way to do it.  I called my supervisor and told a fib about my mom being sick and I had to fly to Washington State for a few days.
I emptied my piggy bank and the tip jar from my coffeehouse night job, but I didn't have enough for the ticket. I did have a series E savings bond tucked away, but nowhere to cash it in on a Friday night. This was long before we had computers and cell phones, so I had only my land line to help me.  
I called Greyhound and got their schedule and all the stops they made along the way to Oklahoma City.
As it happened they had a 20 minute rest stop in Mesa, Arizona at 10:15 AM. which was about as far as my gathered money would buy a ticket for. Good enough!  I grabbed some clothes and my E-Bond and raced to the bus depot. I gave them all my money, much of it in coins, and bought a ticket for Mesa. Soon the bus was loaded and I settled in as we rolled on through the night.  Too excited to sleep, I wrote several poems along the way.  When we got to Mesa for the rest stop the next morning I leaped off the bus and flew into a nearby bank (Talk about miracles - it was just across the street from the depot ) I pleaded with them to cash my Savings Bond so I could continue on. The handsome teller listened to my story and then called the bank manager over to hear it as well. That was the day I learned that very pretty girls can do things ordinary folk might never manage.  Without knowing me or really checking out my ID, the bank manager and handsome teller actually cashed my savings bond for me.
Had they not done that I would have been stranded alone and penniless in a strange city.  Only the confidence of youth and beauty could lead someone into a situation like that.
I raced back to the bus as it was loading again and bought my way on to Oklahoma City. I wrote more verse as I looked out the bus window on the way. Some of it very good.
There was tragedy though. I filled one little notebook with  poems and was well into a second one when it came time to change busses.  I somehow left the first notebook on the bus as I got off and didn’t realize it until well away on the second one. I was heartbroken. All I could do was write a sad poem about lost poetry - which I did.
When I arrived in Oklahoma City I was met with love, music and wonderful moments.
The drive back to LA. was exciting and romantic as we stopped to admire the scenery and take photos of each other.
What an exciting escapade that was. The folksinger was a lovely period in my life, filled with other adventures and Whippet dogs, but alas, not permanent. The relationship didn’t endure past two years, but the love of Folk music and Whippets did.

Twenty five years later a similar adventure on a bigger scale befell me, but that’s a story for another time.
LJM

After the storm
Squirrels danced around the great oak tree
unaware
The sighthound spied from a distance
appraising his chances

instinct took over

Squirrels danced around the great oak tree
with a grin, one eye on the hound

A whippet danced around the great oak tree
aware of the grins
of the squirrels above
wishing he could fly

glad to hear the snow is melting there
and that you are getting out and about

all our resaurants and pubs have closed
and no more swimming for the family
a while
despite the chlorine

he will swim the rivers and the sea
he is bolder than me
it is colder for me

we moved forward yesterday
with a few steps backwards

things broke, things were mended
cleaned and tidied

we talked over the fence, the first
in reality this week

they looked older, both had sticks
and offered supplies if necessary

two dogs
grey whippet twelve years old
and a black mixed scruffy

i watched them walk on and went
back into the studio quietly
sat a while

the others went out in their cars
and i hope they had good reason

surprised at the number of days achieved
hope you will manage ok with things and stuff

Shell cracks wrapped in Knuckle

Squeeze the oily
Memory
Through Flesh of Seed.

In this Kernel the Beating
Heart of Being
Expresses
From Land to Stalk from
Barking Stem to whippet waving Leaf.

All my Head exposed in
Creamed whorls of Walnut-
The Apple Pip of Manhood shown
Only to Woman