Sensational

Oh golly gosh,

Thank you so much for coming to visit a dog poet. My poems for Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge are a take on life from a canine perspective. We poets – to date I seem to be the only dog poet –  write one of the structured poems permitted and have to integrate, as synonyms, the two words given as a prompt. Though, for the first poem of each month, we can choose our own words. This week I have chosen the words scent and sad and I am doing a short Haibun , followed by a Tanka. The Haibun is a piece of prose, with a title, written in the first person canine singular, and it occurs in the present moment. The poem that follows – never seeks to repeat, quote from or explain the prose. It should reflect some aspect of the prose by introducing a different step in the narrative through a microburst of detail – seemingly different, yet somehow connected; gosh!

To be honest, I’m not sure I’ve captured all that but, then again, I’m only a dog and I’ve done my best for my first attempt. The Tanka that follows is structured in 5 lines, with a syllable count of 5, 7, 5, 7, 7. I’m pretty sure I’ve managed that, which isn’t bad for a dog, even a dog poet.

You can find out about it all and, have a go yourself. by clicking below:

Colleen’s poetry challenge

Sensational

sensational

She entered my life as a burst of starlight on a winter’s night, igniting my senses. The sky is now bluer and mown grass more fragrant, while autumn leaves laugh and crackle under foot. Our walks in the forest inject my heart with joy and – with soft steps – I dance, trying to catch moving shadows on the path. Here, verdant trees – swaying in the breeze – filter sunlight.

When she goes away, as she sometimes has to, a despondency numbs my senses and then a grey mantilla shrouds my life. I am reminded of lines from the poet, Yevtushenko:
“ The colours in my eyes will fade, when your face sets.”

Though – of course – being a dog, my senses will be extinguished when her smell is gone.

Her smell fading now
Each moment a crying shame.
Disrupted, my world –
Like neglected flower heads –
Drooping, lifeless, sees no sun.

By Ben, the dog poet ©2019

Additionally, you can read all the poems from last week here: Tuesday poetry challenge recap

And, if you need a little bed time reading to send you to sleep, you can read lots of my poems ever, here: The dog poet’s poems

You can also read all about my big walking charity challenge here: Mucky Boots and Flawless Paws, but that might keep you awake at night, or possibly give you nightmares – hee, hee!

Love Ben xx 0

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Sport? #Haiku

Thank you so much for coming to visit a dog poet. My poems for Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge are a take on life from a canine perspective. We poet’s write one of the structured poems permitted and have to integrate, as synonyms, the two words given as a prompt. This week the words are mystery and attract.

Click here to find out more and enter

You can read all the poems from last week here: Tuesday poetry challenge 118, recap

And, if you need a little bed time reading to send you to sleep, you can read all my poems ever, here: The dog poet’s poems

And you can read all about my big walking charity challenge here Mucky Boots and Flawless Paws

 

Nose drawn to the ground
Curious scent, nesting birds
Game, but not for long

 

 

Mountain Rescue

Thank you very much for visiting my blog. This is my response to Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge.  The two prompt words, to be included but used synonymously, are Ghost and Hollow.

My poem this week is about how I felt when 32 imposing bi peds came, in a never ending torrent, over the mountain ahead of me. My people seemed to think they were the best thing since sliced bread (if you like that sort of thing) but, to me, they were terrifying aliens invading my already anxious space. I was so confused. One minute we were having a lovely mountain walk and the next my male person was on the ground and there was some sort of commotion and then a v. v. v long wait. I was getting very nervous because I didn’t have a clue what was going on. Why weren’t we walking on and on to the top. Who were these people, carrying on with those things they attach to their ears, and why was my person all wrapped up and looking sad. What in heavens name was that thunderous noise coming from the sky.

http://mountainrescue.org.uk/incident?jobno=2018_069

 

 

Spooked, scared, defensive.
Ghouls in black and red attend
My crevice d person

     By Ben, the dog poet © 2018

NB I’d better report that my person will be OK in a few months. I’m not so sure about me.

Here is what all Colleen’s other poets got up to last week

Love Ben xx

 

 

 

 

 

 

For Maisie – “our heroine for all time”

Well hello!

how lovely of you to visit me, thank you. This is the latest offering of the dog-poet in response to Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge The two prompt words this week, to be integrated synonymously, are sad and write.

I have written this poem for my best pal and mentor, the old girl, our 15 ½ year old collie, Maisie. Her back legs have given out and she has doggy dementia – Canine Cognitive Dysfunction (CCD) is the posh name. We know she won’t be able to last much longer – but she is such a trooper and hanging in there, with the help of a harness my people have to use. These are very poignant days for all of us.

The first photo, called Maisie’s mile, was taken a month ago when she could still stand up and we had made a nice path from the door to the garden to help her.   The old girl still loves playing with her interactive, find my treat game. The second photo was taken yesterday. She got worn out looking for treats in her game and fell asleep.

My tribute predicts
– as scribbled poem quivers –
Farewell, my best friend.

By Ben, the dog poet ©2018

I have written a whole page about CCD to help other two legged things who might be wondering how are they going to cope. Please tell them all about it. It was jolly hard work.

Love Ben xx

 

 

 

 

 

May blog – How frustrating is this?

Friends, collies and patient dogs,

I’m not quite sure I’ve got the constitution for all this roller coaster riding. Take the last month for example. Early on I watched all the paraphernalia of our Munro adventure being sculptured into my van, after it’s winter sojourn in the loft. It set my little heart racing and I got all excited. Having got used to a bit of the lime light over the last year, and not being one to sit things out on the side lines, I decided to muzzle in on the action. So, I jumped over the bucket, side stepped the Kelly Kettle and was tucked up in my cushion in a one, one, two, hosting that look of innocence that melt hearts. The one that Millie has been coaching me in.

Once there I got to thinking about last year and I remembered what a liability B is, to go away with. Flashbacks, of the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder variety, flooded my head space and caution seemed a very wise word to adopt, as we approached this years adventure. What I really want to avoid is:

Anyway, we were all set and just waiting for the weather to come good. The first weekend looked ideal, apart from the 40 mph winds that were forecast across the summits. The second weekend was reasonable apart from the Saturday. This promised two slices of full sun embracing a filling of torrential rain and more high winds. Then there was my vans MOT to contend with. I sat beside B when she phoned up for the prognosis, tucking in close and bringing all  my very best, silent canine support to bear. Then, holy Moses and shiver my timbers it worked, save the odd light bulb or two. Munros 2017, here we come.

So, with the van packed and sporting a clean bill of health, we looked eagerly at the forecast for the weekend ahead; it seemed perfect. Apparently, we were going on a foray into the Cairngorms. Half way through the week we just needed to give my van a quick run around to keep everything hunky dory. Now, this is where you have to feel v. v. v sorry for me and B.

My van had died again. Not the stubborn “I can’t be bothered to get going” moan, that had plagued us over the winter. This was a deep cry from the last cell of battery deficiency – I’ve given all I can and have nothing left, it’s total silent seemed to indicate. My little jump start kit couldn’t cajole it into action and even jump leads couldn’t kick start it. We only had four days to go and B was doing that hateful working away, for three of them. The weekend was doomed, again.

Eventually, we got the van going and it fired up no bother, after a little tightening of a wonky loose screw (and I’ll resist the temptation to make personal references to other loose screws here). It then went to hospital to have a new screw fitted, and its annual tummy irrigation. We spent last Friday sitting in the garden, on a fabulous summer evening, where I was somewhat depressed because I should have been elsewhere, waxing my walking boots. B seemed very jovial, given the circumstances, but I think that may have something to do with what they call drowning your sorrows. Apparently, sitting in the garden drinking G & T is very good for this.

Anyway, B went and got my van today and brought it home no bother, only to find that the engine was very hot and bothered and all the coolant had gone missing. Both our hearts sank and it’s all despondency. Back to van hospital tomorrow.

In the meantime, only one thing for it…

And, so to bed.

Love Ben xx