Newest Pets / Animals Poems (167)

My dog gets down dirty

Licks up his bowl nice and clean

Gives me his little growl

Acting like he is big and mean

Tries to show me whose the boss

When he wants to get his way

I say yea alright

Now listen to what I have to say

I am the one who feeds you

Tucks you in bed at night

As if that little growl of yours

Will send me into a fright

You are only half a foot tall

Looking like a ball of fluff

Do what you have to do

But for god sake don't act so tuff

In the rage of the noonday sun,
In a suit of glittering light's He doe's come,
To face death,
To leave the crowd, with bated breath.

He stands erect and proud,
His name the aficionados shout out loud,
El Leon, El Leon, they cry,
And wonder if today, He will die.

The gate is open, the bull is out,
Six hundred kilos without a doubt,
El Toro spies the man,
It will kill Him if it can.

With graceful movements He swings His cape,
Leaving the crowd with mouths agape,
Though young in years,
This Matador has taken many ears.

El Toro moves in for a kill,
For the mob it is such a thrill,
It's horns pass within an inch,
And El Leon thought this would be a cinch.

The crowd does frown,
For El Leon is down,
But wait He rises,
And everyone surprises.

And now the ultimate thrill,
El Leon has decided, the kill,
El Toro face's the final part,
As the Matadors sword pierces his heart.

Ole, Ole, they shout,
Let the next bull out,
But first to the Matador,
The ears must go.

He was brave, He was strong,
The crowd moves forward as one,
El Leon, El Leon, they cry,
We know you will never die.


Steven Reeve

Feeling sad lying so very still in bed
Careful she places her paw on my face
With searching amber eyes instead
A speechless gesture for me to embrace
"You are my world where my light is shed"
This message shared with a straight face
Listen how my soft purring love is pled
I’m here to comfort you in any case

Quite mighty is he, as he walks through the trees, Sniffing and snorting for these. The kitchen jungle he sees, Is chalk full of these. The human dinner plate is peiiet with these. The floor he may spot some of these. The carpet is a place of delight, as humans spill alot of these. When the evening he sees, he desired to rest at ease, Watching and hopeing for these.

Star struck wonders reflected in their eyes.
Sincerity and devotion that never dies.
Don’t need to get all dolled up to impress.
What I provide is enough I guess.

Silence ways to express an alarm;
They ensure I come to no harm.
Take issue with being pushed away
All they want to do is hug and play.

Whenever I take them for a walk
hours later they are over the top.

Holidays don’t mean much to them
having me around is their rpm.

Bold one month old
Fast as a bolt of light
Colt don't do as hes told
Marches to the sound of
His own hoof
Hes a little aloof but the
Day will come when this
Colt of mine will be a
Fine horse.


Copyright 2011 John Yona

IF IT SHOULD BE

If it should be that I grow weak
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then you must do what must be done,
For this last battle cannot be won.

You will be sad, I understand.
Don't let your grief then stay your hand.
For this day, more than all the rest,
Your love for me must stand the test.

We've had so many happy years.
What is to come can hold no fears.
You'd not want me to suffer so;
The time has come -- please let me go.

Take me where my need they'll tend,
And please stay with me till the end.
Hold me firm and speak to me,
Until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time that you will see
The kindness that you did for me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I've been saved.

Please do not grieve -- it must be you
Who had this painful thing to do.
We've been so close, we two, these years;
Don't let your heart hold back its tears.

--- Anonymous ---

There are many who will
kick their beast..
Who will starve them
to death while they
gorge in feast..
They will leave them
tied up in the freezing
cold..a sadder story
cannot be told..
There are many who think
that it's no big deal..
that these are nothing
creatures who cannot feel..
There are many who'll abuse
them in a filthy pen..
Many, many better think
again~

With such royality engraved on his face
One that never falls from noble grace
Born into the world to make his place
Outdoors wandering in some sunny hollow
In ground misshapen by old plow furrow
Slowly creeps a form low and shallow
Stealthily where small creature's burrow
Prowls a hunter in the long grass meadow
A roaming spirit of a cat named Shadow

death has a strachy gaullist french look,
he officiates"paris gare du nord"..
the bloke,really ,doesn't likes seasoned haikus.
croissants are frozen,
coffee a taste of anorexia..
poets dont go to paris..