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junie Jun 28
your little bones could not outlast
the fevered fire that burned too fast
you died curled up against my thigh
for hours i didn’t know how to cry

you weren’t a god, you weren’t a guide
only fur, and warmth, and love inside
no words to give, no voice to lend
but still, you were my sweetest friend

i shared my wins in quiet light
you wagged your tail just right
you didn’t speak, but still you knew
my joy was yours, and yours was true

now some days pass without your name
and guilt arrives like quiet flame
but from above you lay upon my chest
a pitter-patter, small and blessed

you don’t stay long—you never do
you know to leave before i lose me too
like bubbles born in tender skies
you rise, you shine, then softly die

a bubble’s life is short and sweet
but still too long until we meet.

so when i cross that final line
i’ll bring you home one last time
you’ll squeal and jump into my lap
tucked in tight, ready for your nap

next time though, you’ll be here to stay
i know i’ll have bubble back some day
about my dog who died just 2 months before turning 4. i miss my sweet boy. so much.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 27
~for M.C.C. ~
who sang me to sleep,
when my soul begged me for
sweet release,
just was lucky, I guess

"Mornings here with a coffee cup
Stories in my head, looking up
If the rain holds off we'll be in luck
But we're lucky anyway"


<>
Been there, done that,
ritualized & compartmentalized
the essences of the routinized,
to measure the days of my life,

as small keepsakes,
charms and tokens on a bracelet,
jingle bo jangle,
when another be repeated,
the telling belling of
a ✅ of satisfying satisfaction,
<>
and I!ve been bone
marrowed & narrowed hell~married,
imprisoned until decisioned,
that no life was no life at all,
(take note! y'all y'all),
and I miss my dog's greetings,
and snoring while I'm wide awake,
always loved to drive too fast on  
back country narrow lanes,
in my suburban shrunk
small suv,
with radio blaring, no need for
trucking on the Truckee,
been there, done that..
<>
in the small ways,
in the
small places,
take my slow going days my way,
and not no need
to rent borrowed uninfluenc-ed content
cause I custom built it in,
easy like, five easy pieces,
learned to make daisy peaces,
of the bright nights melding
with life affirming hot sunlight
and there is no bad time,
with a cold blue~ribbon
in my left,
my right grasping two O'clock
on my heart and steering wheel,
driving freedom fine,
Chapin~ Carpenter
on the stereo dial,
no set time,
just anytime,
rain or shine
for me and my poems
to *** together,
like old time,
any fine rhyming time,

together we flashback
to the sweet Release
from jail in 2008
<>
and break out a new one and clap  it onto the clasp
my bracelet of charmed
keepsakes,
like memories of
my old dog, thinking
one more time,
just got lucky

6/27/25
Mary Chapin Carpenter Lyrics
"Girl And Her Dog"

Everyone asks when you're growing up
Who do you want to be
I never had an answer, couldn't figure out
Why I couldn't see
Myself as some future other
No one's partner no one's mother
No one's answer no one's lover
Nobody but me

But the older I get the more I see
That more by itself never worked for me
Keeping it simple as it can be
Walking along just him and me
Mornings here with a coffee cup
Songs in my head, looking up
If the rain holds off we'll be in luck
But we're lucky anyway

A long time ago I got married once
Didn't take long to find
That the words I heard coming out of his mouth
Were not the truthful kind
I thought about moving to LA
Maybe upstate or the UK
Anywhere as long as it's far away
From what I left behind

And the older I get the more I'm sure
That more by itself never was a cure
Some days I've got nothing to show for except
Walking the dog and walking the floor
Mornings here with a coffee cup
Stories in my head, looking up
If the rain holds off we'll be in luck
But we're lucky anyway

In summer neighbors leave tomatoes
In fall dust coats your tires
Spring greens up every shadow
In December we lay a fire
I figure I'm finally old enough
To know who I want to be when I grow up
A girl and her dog riding in the truck
Wave as we're going by

Now the older I get the less I need
Just a good old dog underneath the trees
Keeping it simple as it can be
Fitting together like a puzzle piece
Mornings here with a coffee cup
Whistling for him while I'm looking up
If the rain holds off we'll be in luck
But we're lucky anyway
Phoebe Jun 27
Today was not a good day.
I knew from the cracked glass,
The torn dress brushing my skin,
Memories left unlit.
I woke in a field of ruins—
Limbs weak, breath heavy.
Behind the trees: a stray dog,
Black as the edge of dusk.
Its gaze seized my insides.

Slowly, we reached a garden.
Silence settled between us
Until the dog whimpered
A sound like drowning,
And anger swelled in me again.

Today was not a good day.
It worsened, as the garden bloomed backwards.
I remembered golden lights,
Laughter that almost felt mine.
Shadows of us dancing 'til dawn,
The world, for a moment, paused.
Sweet relief, how I missed you so.
But grief leaves leftovers.

My hands had torn through debris,
My thoughts ruined every party.
All that remained was the dog,
A burden I’ve carried all my life.
When will I stop letting good things die?

Today was not a good day.
But the dog stayed, patient as always.
I promised to find it a home,
Somewhere beneath my heart of stone.
But for now, I’ll learn to let go,
Even though time keeps slipping,
And all I do is remember.
neth jones Jun 23
lanky gal in swelter garb    tummy foaming out
barbed and fumed  punk  but no feud            
with a hench of post adolescent scents
and cradling a foppy doll of a rat dog

kibbling chancers stop                                      
         and ghop in adoration at the indulged pup
coddled on its back  and in its 'mamas' arms
its peddling limbs faffing with the hot air
                                 and attention
[original notes : 06/06/25 lanky gal in swelter garb/tummy forming out/and fumed with post adolescent hench scents/cradling a foppy doll of a rat dog/kibbling chancers stop /and ghop in adoration at the indulged pup/coddled in its 'mamas' arms/its limbs faffing with the hot air]
Narin Jun 16
Rabid dog,
On a leash,
I forged the chain,
All for their peace,
Rabid dog.
Wrapped it around myself with my own paws.
Emery Feine Jun 2
dog leashed, tied onto a pitch-black pole
woven to the pillar, like you're woven to my soul

every thought about you pours acid in my heart
and i cough out the rest like blood
one day i'm scavenging for water, a paranoid dart
the next i'm drowning in a hot-pink flood

i saw you in the window of that small local store
after becoming a regular, the door wouldn't open anymore
but you looked so pretty when you were so far away
and for some reason i come back every day

but it was so good at first
you made me finally believe
that someone out there could love someone like me

and i told you what i did wrong
and you said you didn't care
but i must've mistaken that love was in the air

i try to talk to you
i try to understand
but every word i say to you
you repeat back, just bland

and you blame it on me?
you say i'm the confusing one
so i chase and chase, give and give
you never let me take some

it's my mistake i put love first
my mistake i wasn't rational
my mistake that when you said you liked me
i somehow didn't think it was casual

i'm a dog waiting at your door
saliva puddle on your wooden floor
i wait for you to come back
like i'm tied to a pole, pitch-black

my hunger has been satiated now
i open my eyes for the sixth time
this has gone much longer than i can allow
you're making me run out of rhyme
i guess it was my mistake that even then, even now
i somehow thought you would be mine.
the world is so big so big so big. i need to feel a meaning and productiveness in my life. (S.P.)
Darvin Ray May 23
A cigarette in hand,
I sit back in my chair.

The sun pours down
like a waterfall.

A dog ahead,
Lies down on it's back -
Like a turtle on it's shell

He's laying down,
Joyous and gay,
thinking to himself:
"Gosh, what a beautiful day"

A breeze flows by
to remind us all:
that the cold days gone,
And all that remains
is the waterfall.

I recline back,
and take a long drag,
And I tell myself:
"Gosh, what a beautiful day"
First poem I'm somewhat proud of.
Cadmus May 19
If a dog could speak,
he might look up at you and say:

“Please
don’t call your human traitor… a dog.
Don’t give our name
to those who lie,
who bite the hand
then kiss the air.

We don’t forget
a kindness once given
not a crust of bread,
not a warm place by the fire,
not a voice that called us friend.

We wait at the door
long after the footsteps fade.
We guard graves.
We sleep beside sorrow
without asking why.

When one of ours is hurt,
we circle close.
We bleed with them.
We never leave
unless we’re forced.

We don’t scheme.
We don’t pretend.
We don’t smile
with a knife behind our back.

So next time a human
sells love for pride,
abandons a friend in fear,
or forgets the one
who once saved them

Just call him Human.

For we know no other species
that buries loyalty
beneath convenience,
that trades truth
for applause,
that remembers insults
but forgets grace.

We,
with paws and silence,
would die for those
who once fed us.

You,
with words and reason,
sometimes ****
what you claim to love.

So do not stain our name
with betrayal.
Do not dress your disloyalty
in fur and fangs.

We are not like you.

And perhaps,
that’s why you love us.
Because somewhere,
in your better dreams,
you wish
you could be
a little more dog.”
This poem gives voice to the silent loyalty of dogs, contrasting it with the conditional, often self-serving nature of human relationships. It challenges the use of “dog” as an insult, suggesting that even in their silence, animals often carry more integrity than those who speak.
Gabbro May 17
I can’t write about it.
I can barely think
about that day on the bridge.

But thank you—
for letting me hug your dog.

You didn’t owe me kindness,
but you were still kind.
For T
My dog is full of cheer and
He'd wag his tail when I'm near
And he'd bark and he'd play
Jump in the air all day and he'd
Chase the ***** away and he'd
Bring smiles to all of
Those who loved him.
Dog 🐕
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