Last Commented Pets / Animals Poems (167)

He placed his paw upon my knee.
Those big brown eyes stared up at me.
As if to say so tenderly.
Don't you know, can't you see?
Oh I wish, I wish you were a tree.

Have you ever seen a Black Wolf?
Head held high out of confidence.
Confidence in himself.
Confidence in his heart,
in his mind.

A Black Wolf strays away from the pack.
He does what he does and goes where ever he pleases.
Forever perish the thought of what others think.

A Black Wolf gets frustrated
A Black Wolf gets restless.
A Black Wolf must do what he is good at
Otherwise he would not be a Black Wolf

A Black Wolf takes care of his own,
and until he is capable of doing so
A Black Wolf is invisible

A Black Wolf is alone and contemplates his end
in the depths of the darkness.
A Black Wolf is flawed but breeds perfection

Have you ever seen a Black Wolf?
Indescribable, untamable, restless, tired, cold and
his only source of heat comes from his rage.
Now you have.

The Black Wolf demands respect. But receives none.
The Black Wolf is not evil.
The Black Wolf is just honest with himself.

The Black Wolf is endangered. There are none like him.
The Black Wolf bleeds from the inside out and no one ever
heals his wounds.

The Black Wolf is deceived, betrayed, and plotted against.
No one wants to hear the Black Wolf's truth.

In the still of the moonlit, forest night.
Catch your breath and bend your knees.
If you ever seriously betray the Black Wolf
with absolute malice in your heart.
The Black Wolf will seek you out.

The Black Wolf will watch you and then
The Black Wolf will destroy you.

So is fate of those who wish to chose
The path of the Black Wolf- Loneliness,
emptiness, poverty, power, wisdom,
righteousness and short influence before
The Fear of the truth captures them, and
decide to betray you.

She approaches, joy written across her beautiful face
Brown eyes twinkle with love and happiness
She responds to your caress, leaning in to your hand
soft, silky to touch, returning the gentle pressure
No words spoken,
but you just know she is asking to spend time with you,
and you alone.
The love wraps around you, it fills the empty spaces
Come to me, she lets you know now is the time
the time for release
the time for sharing your love
As you pick up the keys,
Her excitement cant be contained
It is her time,
it is your time
It is time for a walk, the best way to any dogs heart!

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What is it makes your old yard dog
Bay all night at the moon,
In chorus with the wild coyote's
Archaic clannish tune?

By daylight he's content enough
To lay around and nap,
Domesticated by his look
A ward of table scrap.


But nightfall wakens something deep
Where mind and soul convene.
Some age-old longing locked awat
Embedded in his genes.

The same thing makes a fella
Who is both steadfast and sane,
Jerk down a rope and join the chase
With slack pitched in his rein.

His slight regard for consequence
Attests to what's inside.
A banner unfurled honestly,
Impossible to hide.

Some know it on the ocean's waves.
Some dig it out of mines.
It finds us on the city streets
Or high up in the pines.

It's played out in the stadiums
For all the multitude,
Or realized in the cedar breaks
In perfect solitude.

That we fool others and ourselves
It matters not at all.
We're ruled by what's inside us
When we hear the coyote call.

Reaching to unpure souls like fingers to lips that tremble and hide, is the mind numbing howl of the one they call the "Rebel."

Over vast miles of flat ground the howl stretches to the souls, and clings to awaken lost fears and desires.

The main fear was seeing this rebel, for he had such power and motives to move one, to the point that he was treated as being higher than an alpha.

Sun piercing eyes glow from afar, as his physical form seems to blend into transparency.

Soon, his body emerges forth like a butterfly from its cocoon, and there he stood, awaiting fate and reason.

The nauseatingly bright sun cast bits of light upon his thick coat of rich maroon.

A soft creme was seemingly painted upon his face, to mirror a mask, and reddened to his paws.

Taut muscles bent with each step he took into the clearing.

His conformation showed good health and spirit although it was just that, his spirit that he liked to hide from others` scorning faces.

He was by no means an alpha, but he let his tail fly high with the pride of his heritage though he didn`t approve of looking proud about anything but his own failures.

A sly vindictive look spread across his face, as his eyes pinpointed a rocky ledge, which he complacently walked to.

Lying upon the cold hard surface, he yawns, exposing a deep blue stripe down his tongue, and closes his eyes.

Gaston

Under a Peace Rose
he rests,
surrounded by daffodils,
in the tranquility of an English garden.

Near to the woods he loved
over hanging a quiet river valley,
where all the seasons changes
were a joy to us.

In the Spring he ran through the Bluebells
parting them as if they were the sea,
Snow Drops the foam.
Banks softly glowing with primroses
like a sandy beach.

As the seasons changed, so did natures colours
The green and purple of the violets of summer,
multi shades of autumn brown,
and the white and gray of winter.
We loved them all.

Glimpses of pheasant, fox and squirrel.
The fleeting view of deer.
All the things that he enjoyed in life,
and dreamed of when he slept.

Now he can chase them for ever.

My sounding board and comfort in times of trouble,
he always trusted me and rewarded me
with unquestioning love and loyalty.
Always in my memory,
rest well my friend.

The other horses fought and mingled

But the old blind mare stood alone

Cautiously she moved, listening, feeling, and using different senses in place of sight

Somehow she avoided everyone else's raucous play

and only when masters` voice was heard did she dare get close to anyone

Her swayed back and blank unmoving eyes

showing what used to be youth.

I feel her probing my soul inside, and I shudder.

For she sees my hidden secrets and fears.

The old blind mare stands alone.

See the eyes that look at you in question as you speak
The ears perk up, and lay to the side
Tail hung limp, for it can`t feel excitement
A tense body always ready to move when you move
The nose, the best feature of senses for it can smell anything for miles
and miles away and know somehow just how to react
Feel the soft tongue caressing your skin in jerky movements at first
then smoother
then completely smooth
Turn yourself
Put yourself in this wolfs` paws
Could you live without expressing sound?
Could you live without hearing expressed sound?
This wolf does, and survives because we feel responsible for it`s shortcomings.

Why now?

They called him Plucky
He was a silly little thing
Chasing the Jennies
Left to right, right to left
Morning to night, night to morning
His stubby little tail danced and swayed
He knew this was a life of fun
Until one day the horsemen arrived
They came with whips and spurs
And they sang trail songs
And yelled loudly and frightened them all
Many burrows were captured, with the rope or chased
But he dodged them quickly
And came face to face
He balked and snorted
Stomped and brayed
And with a huff and a puff
He was gone...gone away

Encroaching shadows of a large powerful transparent demonic being creeps into day light.

Eyes burn a fearsome shade of red, muscles taut and bulging.

Paws heavily push into the snow leaving deep depressions of it`s weight of reality, as it stands 7 feet at the shoulder.

Hot snorting breaths flying with increased force as each dark step is taken into the light.

Ivory teeth glistening off the shine of the sun,

dripping blood that pierces the pure white snow,

and spreads like a wild fire consuming all in its path.

Low pitched growls from deep within the throat, sends shocking fear down ones spine upon hearing it.

It seems indestructible, with its look of complete malice.

But if you pay attention, and stay out of the tightened grip of its eyes,

you can find its weakness and revel in it.