Tag Archives: #dogs

My dog is jealous

My dog is jealous,

of my other dog,

and is also jealous,

of my other other dog.


My other dog (the second one)

is jealous of my other other dog,

and also jealous of the first dog in this poem.

My other other dog doesn’t really do jealousy;

but is a quick-moving, lively, active sort…

when there is the prospect of food in the offing.


My three dogs are small, medium,

and slightly larger than medium

(but not large).

One is black, one is brown,

the third… has a lack of common sense,

hence we call her Derp –

even though it’s not her actual name.


All three get on well together,

and have formed a little circus troupe;

juggling, acrobacy, riding a bicycle backwards, and the like –

can you picture a Dachshund riding a bike?

Anyway, they are all loved and love back,

of canine affection we have no lack.

The four fur babies

Not that they are all together

all that often,

but, when they are,

they can get on

with the best of them.

Characters all,

creatures of habit,

feline, canines

(that never say, ‘rabbit’)

loved to pieces,

cheeky tykes,

up for a walk

(unless it’s wet)

more like friends

less like pets –

if only they could talk,

“We hate the vets!”

My dog loves Larkin

My dog loves Larkin:

which is not that unusual;

if you consider that some dogs like music,

especially Bach;

but, poetry?

Why not?

Has a dog not got ears to hear;

a mind to think;

eyes to read the words—

hold on…

sorry, my dog loves Barkin’ –

easy mistake to make.

Pink Towels

We never used to have any,

we certainly have some now;

I popped in the dogs’ red coats

with a few dirty towels;

luckily, the dogs don’t mind

if their towels are pink;

at least, that’s what I try to think,

as they have been giving me looks,

kind of curious and strange,

as they look at their towels,

and consider the colourful change.

On the beach

Three little dogs,

twelve little feet,

one virginal beach,

as the tide moves out of reach.

Given no more than a few minutes

of running to and fro,

there is no part of the revealed sand

that doesn’t have a paw-print show.

Holes have been dug,

ragged rocks run ‘round,

and all can be discovered

from the tracks on the ground.

Three tired dogs,

twelve tired legs,

“We deserve a biscuit treat!”

the spokesdog says.


Sheltering under a tree,

the three doggoes and me,

trying to remain dry,

as the rain falls from high.


Failing in this task,

in pale rainlight we bask,

spirits dampened just a tad;

I ignored the signs,

and, so, my bad.

Muddy puddle water

Dogs love puddle water,

just as much as you do:

the smell and the taste,

it’s like a doggy voodoo.

Off to the Beach

I’m off to the beach

to teach the young dudes

how a planet occludes.

No, not really;

I’m taking the dogs

for a walk,

and to teach them to talk.

No, not really;

actually, not the talking part,

just the walking bit.

The Labradoodle (extended)

A Labradoodle

at Durdle Dor

spoke, ‘Abracadabra!’

then spoke no more.


A small Chihuahua

who saw this feat,

also spoke the once,

‘I want food – to eat!’


And all the dogs

who were there that day,

had something of nothing

of which to say.


And so was heard

(so the stories tell)

a thousand dog-phrases,

before Midnight’s toll bell.

Ode to a Bark (aka a Bark Ode)

Oh, I think that, perhaps,

I read once,


under the rainbow,

that a dog will bark at many things –

bad poetry being one of them –

and it ‘has’ been found

that a hound

will utter a higher-pitched sound

when the fear they feel is real.

A deep growl and short bark combination

is likely to be less worry

and more fascination

with the interesting odour

that has recently crossed their neural radar,

‘Hark, hark, the dogs do bark,

beggars are coming to town…’

or some such nursery rhyme;

but, we mustn’t put the beggars down,

when they are out of luck

and no one gives a darn.

Oh, dogs, why do you bark

when all is quiet,

when I’m on a diet,

when there is a Thursday in the week?

Oh, why bark at the meek,

who seek solitude, safety,

and another word beginning with ‘s’.

Yes, I know that another dog has just barked

some forty miles away,

but that doesn’t mean to say

that you should reply.


Oh, why?