The Love Of a Dog

                                                                                                                                                          

Our poodle when we adopted him

We brought him home when he was only three

A nervous, passive, scruffy dog, but he

Accepted us as family without doubt

And taught us all what love is all about.

His big black eyes hold not a bit of guile

I swear that I can even see him smile

And when he wags his fluffy little tail

I know, at least with him, I cannot fail

On his white fur I often lay my head

His head rests on my pillows in my bed

He listens to me when I’m feeling bleak

He knows just what to say; he doesn’t speak

The wonders of the world are large and small

 The love of a good dog can beat them all.

Soni, Christmas 2012

submitted for Poets United, Wonder Wednesday 17, Wonder

The Fringe of Grey

I could cast myself in white

Pure and innocent

and he the man in black

who led me astray

But we both know

We live on the fringe of grey.

I could say I wore baby’s breath in my hair

that he tempted me

with the scent of a red rose

But we both know

The grass was green and damp

and the columbines were in bloom.

I could remember the white of the paper gown

0r the black typeface of the consent form

(the first I had ever signed myself)

(Do you remember being seventeen?)

But I remember most

the blood stain,

my own scarlet “A,”

and the grey brick building

protesters with black and white signs,

yelling about life

and death

(Perhaps you were one of them?)

I could claim that I cast rue and marigold

upon the earth

Rend my clothing in grief

I could swear that I simply forget

Let the day pass each year

without my heart skipping a beat

But we both know
The truth is grey

and it cuts, not cleanly, but with a dull knife

So sometimes I still wonder

What If?

And most times I’m glad

but sometimes I cry.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wednesday Challenge, Breaking the 4th Wall

and Poets United, Wonder Wednesday #9, Shades of Grey

Wolf

image source

Even a killer needs rest

Hunting down prey is tiring

Tearing flesh from bone, wearying

The grip tightening around the neck as

the pulse quickens, rising

in a frenzied crescendo

to its peak,

crashing

releasing

It’s an act of love

And I,

spent and sated,

sleep.

Submitted for PoetsUnited, Wonder??? Wednesday: Wolf