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to enslave with domestication

dog by scavengercat808

dog by scavengercat808

to enslave with domestication

it is always superficial, caused by humans without gumption.
their hearts are frozen. their dysfunctionality, contagious.
i am preoccupied with difficulties. the air is too cold.
with temerity i shiver. the communal sun radiates not on me.

a treasure from my mother might be a memory of times past.
it’s a species thing. natural. days of wretched misery.
hours of dolorous suffering. i am stabbed by unblunted thorns.
calluses form as if I were to transmute into an uncultivated cactus.

i question the distress in the experience of humanity:
to savor. to self-reflect. to engage in life with exactitude.
to appraise with attitude. to enslave with domestication.
i stare with solemnity, “is protection around the corner?”


Hear this on Sound Cloud


Written for:

Magpie Tales – Mag 190

Also posted on:

Open Link Night ~ 107

Image credits: Unknown, from Magpie tales page

Bichon Frise

Parko - My adorable Bichon Frise

Parko – My adorable Bichon Frise

Bichon Frise

bichon frise
je vous enchante
fourrure comme soufflée
tu un caricaturée
avec coulour de crème brûlée
toujours dance un pas de bourrée
jamais cajolée —
manger la malbouffe doublée
constante amusée
un chien dévouée
court essoufflée
c’est dedication maintenant cessée

English Translation

bichon frise
I am delighted to meet you
fur blown like a soufflée
you’re a caricature
couloured like crème brûlée
always dancing a pas de bourrée
never cajoled to
eating a double portion of junk food
constantly amused
devoted dog
short of breath
dedication is now discontinued


Hear this on chirbit

(and you can make fun of my french pronunciation)


Written for:

Poetics: Foreign Tongues

Also posted on:

B is for Brevity

Also posted on:

Photo credit:  Bat-Ami Gordin  © 2012 all rights reserved, credit if you use it, please.

Parko rescued by and adopted from Bichons and Buddies

Parko groomed by Stacy

Dog in Leaves

Dirty Dog

Dog in Leaves

i had just completed
the raking of leaves
the yard was clean:
one of my pet peeves,

when no one’s pet
came along in my yard
his coat was matted
his face was scarred.

i did not know
if he would lick or bite
a strange injured dog
can be quite a fright.

i lifted my rake
for protection, you see
the dog had big teeth
and might attack me.

he looked at me
with eyes rather sad;
i knew in my heart
this dog was not bad.

he hadn’t eaten in days
and seemed rather frail.
he sat on the ground
and thumped his tail.

as i lowered my rake,
he stood up to leap
yet not on myself,
but on the big heap.

the leaves flew up high
the yellow, red and green,
he landed beside me
the happiest dog i had seen.

so on that autumn day
he decided my fate,
in a pile of color
i met my best mate.


Written for:

Poetry Blogroll

The Thursday Think Tank #73 – The Waning Days of Fall

Also posted on Monday Morning Writing prompt – November.

Photo Credit: arlingtonmama

Drooling Dog Senryu

Drooling Newfee

juices down chin

cloth won’t sponge it up

dribblin’ like wet paint


Posted for:

Haiku Heights Prompt #91 – Sponge

Also posted on:

D for Dreamin & Dancing

Photo Credit Dogillness Excessive Drooling In Dogs

Hector and the Hawk

Hector and Hawk in My Back Yard

Hector and the Hawk

who are you, fearless chicken
with beak of honed steel-edge
and savage, hostile talons,
sitting on my perch with arrogant stare,
and merciless terrible eyes,
ready to tear off a head,
beautiful, wild, patient,
false manner of inaction,
awful thoughts beam from your eyes?

why do you not tease like blackbirds?
or scuttle away like sparrows?
you are on your own: no murder nor flock.

my tormenting baritone barks
are but lame sounds;

you stare me down.

you are mirthless, without pity
and i mean nothing to you!


One day, when Hector was my only dog, I heard him barking and barking without stop. This was not usual, so I looked at the window to see what was going on, and there was a Hawk. Hector could turned around and looked at me, “Why is this stupid bird not afraid of me. I’m doing my job, barking, and it just doesn’t care.” I captured this in the picture above.

Written for:


prompt – “My Backyard”

I wrote this little poem , from Hector’s point of view, to go with this event and picture.

Also posted on: Wordless Wednesday: Eat your veggies!

Photo Credit: Mine (c) 2006 all rights reserved, credit if you use it, please.

Not all Heroes Cried

Rescue team hunts through the steel wreckage for survivors.

Not all Heroes Cried

Flying across fields of rebar
as if they were fields of grass,
no concern for the deep black holes
of torn metal, wood and glass.

Where rescuers could not attempt,
our heroes mounted without trouble,
exceeding expectations
in deposits of baking rubble.

When they came upon a scent,
they scurried in significant rush.
Steadfastly they worked for reward ―
toys or water bottles to crush.

Comforting and making people laugh,
they were loving and most giving.
Their biggest reward, was to locate souls:
so they could play with the living.

Not all heroes cried,
they just didn’t wag their tails,
their noses and their hearts
soothing the pain of those not lost.

They came to find the living,
but living were not there.

Three dead bodies in half an hour
“Get the body bag.”

Twenty pieces of DNA
“Get the ice cooler.”

In their search, each one was grey ―
the Big Mutts and the Small.
Jumping on heaps of melted steel
toward endlessness they did crawl.

Their bloody paws were bandaged up,
eyes and noses filled with grunge,
exposed to toxic materials which
were washed with hose and sponge.

They were there for all the rescuers,
more loving than partners and peers.
Some played fetch to help others relax.
They soothed those with heavy tears.

Thunder, and Storm were just as dry
As Porkchop, Jax and Servus.
The rescuers gave away their drinks,
before quenching their own thirsts.

Not all heroes cried,
they just didn’t wag their tails,
their noses and their hearts
soothing the pain of those not lost.

They came to find the living,
but living were not there.

Three dead bodies in half an hour
“Get the body bag.”

Twenty pieces of DNA
“Get the ice cooler.”

Tascha ceaselessly gave her all
‘til overcome by heat and smoke.
Bretagne managed to take a snooze
so she wouldn’t have a stroke.

Billy calmed himself right down,
traversing treacherous terrains.
Wolf, Bear, Eagle, and Trackr
lived up to their doggie names.

Dorado, Roselle, Salty, Max, Wuss
all made it out alive.
Kaiser choked on hazardous soot
when, into debris, he took a dive.

Sunny Boy stayed on task
although it was so dreary.
Woody, Jake, and Hoke,
found no one, then got leary.

Not all heroes cried,
they just didn’t wag their tails,
their noses and their hearts
soothing the pain of those not lost.

They came to find the living,
but living were not there.

Three dead bodies in half an hour
“Get the body bag.”

Twenty pieces of DNA
“Get the ice cooler.”

There are stories about Cowboy and Red,
Or about Thunder, if you prefer.
Dusty arrived there clean in heart,
but left with contaminated fur.

They came in many sizes.
They came from any breed.
Abbey, Thea, Jena, Sue, Ivey, Mika
were all good girls indeed.

Riley, Willow, Cody, Hawk ―
each one was some kind of hero.
Moxie, Tara, Guinness, Merlyn
or Gus, Cowboy, Sirus, or Apollo.

Two sets of list must exist,
a short one for those who came out,
a longer one for those who searched,
although doing it with doubt.

Not all heroes cried,
they just didn’t wag their tails,
their noses and their hearts
soothing the pain of those not lost.

They came to find the living,
but living were not there.

Three dead bodies in half an hour
“Get the body bag.”

Twenty pieces of DNA
“Get the ice cooler.”


The other day  @NannersMom asked me to write a 9-11 poem about the dogs who were involved in the the 9-11 tragedy. It took research, and also a lot of tears. It was not easy to get away from the emotions, and get to writing it. But I did it. Yay.

Then  @RaneeDillon was kind enough to edit it for me, so I could get it posted. Once she put her hands on it, it just started flowing so nicely. Wow.

Pciture credit:  (it’s a FEMA picture)

Also on:

 D’verse Poets

Challenge by Mark Kerstetter

moving forward

Pit Bull Stats

moving forward

resurgence of authentic prophets
be real, lift the veil.

respect all the sentient.
re-surge and revolt.

declare unconditional love
as you make them stop the pain.


Hear this on chirbit


I wrote this for the  challenge called forward.

Also posted on:
Jenny Matlock
Alphabe-Thursday Letter M

The picture is from:

Dog Helps Elephant

Dog and Elephant at Country Nights

Dog Helps Elephant

Poor baby elephant
taken from mama;
gotta get away
from the circus drama.

Elephants need
a social surrounding,
not where crowds
are loudly resounding.

Baby is scared
to be away so long.
The circus crowd
is a great big throng.

So puppy comes ‘round.
He can find the way,
to get baby back
to baby’s herd far away.

They wander together,
over land and sea,
to get to the spot
where they’ll find mommy.

The trunk holds the tail,
which therefore can’t wag.
But the Doggie moves on.
Neither friend can lag.

They finally come upon,
a low rumbling sound.
It the herd’s way of talking,
so they can be found.

Then baby looks high.
And baby looks low
‘til finally mama’s face
begins to glow.

They are reunited,
thanks to canine friend,
who stays with the herd
for days on end.


This was posted for  for:

Short Story Slam Week 6-Children’s Literature

You were supposed to write a story or poem based on the picture above.

Even though you aren’t supposed to write these if you are a serious writer or poet, I really have fun writing these. They are totally stress free and fun.

The coolest thing about this poem is that I got to write and post an Animal Rights poem, my first one.  Yay!!!

Staring at the face of Evil

Hector and Tammy at the Hospital

Staring at the face of Evil

Today I took Hector to the hospital to visit the sick people. On my way out, an EEG tech stopped me to ask about Hector. We were talking in the main hall when a slimy, sleezy man walked by. He was about 6’3″, very thin, really redneck looking, usual redneck uniform: jeans and a t-shirt, with a baseball cap. He had white ear buds in his ears. Hector looked at the man, hunched back into defensive position, put his tail between his legs and growled a basso grumble.

I stared at the man, thinking, “this must be an awful person.”

He stared right back at me, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “He sure knows a bad person when he sees one.” He turned and headed toward the elevators.

The tech and I looked at each other, mouths agape. I moved over to the tech and whispered, “I was just thinking that he must be a very bad person.”

The tech answered, “What terrible things did he do that he knows he’s such a bad person?”

You can’t imagine the chills that went up my spine, raised the hairs on my arms and my neck, and just spooked me beyond belief.

After that, Hector kept his tail between his legs for awhile. The next man who came over to him, with a long ZZ-Top type of beard also scared him. However, when I looked at that man’s beady eyes, he did not seem the epitome of evil.