Quotes about puppy, page 4
I met them in a Second Hand Bookshop
King Pilath
Judas Iscariot
Barabbas
Hitler
Benito Mussolini
Stalin, Polpot, Angulimala
And some others
Really I couldn't recognise them.
They're idling nearby
Mystery & True Crime Bookstalls.
They looked at me sarcastically
That I was from another Planet?
I was reading Oscar Wilde's
The picture of Dorian Grey
And I noticed a Fox Terrier puppy
Sniffed the World History!
And it barked tenderly
That sounds like
'Betrayals & Killers and what else? '
Then I whispered; 'Bigamy.'
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poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Of Puppies And Kings
I read about a king last night,
So rich and powerful was he,
And how with vainglory and might,
He took as slaves men who were free,
And sees all in the world as his,
To give him all the pomp and bliss;
And this puppy wiggling at me,
Waiting for some pat on its head,
But what, if I then set it free,
Would it regard release with dread?
To miss that dreamy doggy house,
And joys this dwelling did arouse?
I live life somewhere in between,
Some part puppy, and some part king,
To crave comforts, but not that keen,
Finding true love, and little fling,
Sometimes righteous, sometimes wrong,
And free, but needed to belong.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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A Puppy Kind of Hopeless
When she hung up the receiver...
I heated to a temperature fever.
My friends all told me I should leave her.
But I believed,
Come what may on that day...
She and I stayed in love.
A puppy kind..
Of hopeless love.
But all I got to receive was deceit.
And she could rattle a fanatical in me.
If she wanted to flaunt it!
Knowing she had my nose open.
Still I kept all possibilities high.
Hoping.
I had a need to be that type of guy!
So hard I tried.
When she hung up the receiver...
I heated to a temperature fever.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sympathy
If I were only a little puppy, not your baby, mother dear, would
you say "No" to me if I tried to eat from your dish?
Would you drive me off, saying to me, "Get away, you naughty
little puppy?"
Then go, mother, go! I will never come to you when you call
me, and never let you feed me any more.
If I were only a little green parrot, and not your baby,
mother dear, would you keep me chained lest I should fly away?
Would you shake your finger at me and say, "What an ungrateful
wretch of a bird! It is gnawing at its chain day and night?"
The go, mother, go! I will run away into the woods; I will
never let you take me in your arms again.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Introduced to Claim
I remember first noticing,
The mysteriousness...
Of a flower blooming.
The whiskers on kittens.
And a puppy's wagging tail.
I remember wondering,
How God made thunder!
Who and what was crying when it rained?
And when the Sun appeared,
A rainbow came with vivid colors I could name.
I remember walking near a pond,
And watching a frog hop out.
I then became quite curious.
Since I was told,
Only in ponds ducks swam about.
And as I grew older,
I loved to be among the trees.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Eighth Air Force
If, in an odd angle of the hutment,
A puppy laps the water from a can
Of flowers, and the drunk sergeant shaving
Whistles O Paradiso!--shall I say that man
Is not as men have said: a wolf to man?
The other murderers troop in yawning;
Three of them play Pitch, one sleeps, and one
Lies counting missions, lies there sweating
Till even his heart beats: One; One; One.
O murderers! . . . Still, this is how it's done:
This is a war . . . But since these play, before they die,
Like puppies with their puppy; since, a man,
I did as these have done, but did not die--
I will content the people as I can
And give up these to them: Behold the man!
I have suffered, in a dream, because of him,
Many things; for this last saviour, man,
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poem by Randall Jarrell
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Gifts should be kept safely...
Someone in the family got a puppy as a gift,
For the celebration of the father's day, the best,
It was entrusted with me for its upkeep,
Though upset, remembered the fable,
Once grandfather told, when young,
Walked on the sand that was new,
feeling of running river water, tickle,
Looked at the sky that was fresh and blue,
Trekking in the forest for the waterfalls,
Listening to the singing birds and insects,
Running after butterflies with laughter,
Swimming in the sea before sunset,
Loitering aimlessly in the paddy fields
Scared of coconuts that were dropped,
Bouquet of flowers that we smelled,
Everything was new, when we have, at first,
Everything Mother Nature has, is new to a child,
Such gift of nature was given as a present,
To our generation to enjoy and upkeep,
Take care of the gift to pass on to,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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If there's God why I die
‘’Is there God then why I die’’
Wife of ant says
‘’ Why wife of ant says if there’s God
Why I die, filthy feminine house I will
Burn down and leave’’
God says
‘’Is there God then why my children die’’
Wife of ant says’’
‘’Why wife of ant says if there’s God
Why my children die, filthy clitorising rain giraffe, I will sow seed of hairy itching grass under her feet, will grow to waist’’
God says
Wife ant opened her head to sun
She asks
‘’ Is there anything worst on earth than
Soaking of my waist in mourning tears for years
Wuw nothing’’
God rubbed his nose, nguu….
Says ‘’I will see who’s strong
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poem by David Aoloch Bion
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To A Stray Dog
Well, Towser (I'm thinking your name must be Towser),
You're a decentish puppy as puppy dogs go,
For you never, I'm sure, could have dined upon trowser,
And your tail's unimpeachably curled just so.
But, dear me! your name-if 'tis yours-is a 'poser':
Its meaning I cannot get anywise at,
When spoken correctly perhaps it is Toser,
And means one who toses. Max Muller, how's that?
I ne'er was ingenious at all at divining
A word's prehistorical, primitive state,
Or finding its root, like a mole, by consigning
Its bloom to the turnep-top's sorrowful fate.
And, now that I think of it well, I'm no nearer
The riddle's solution than ever-for how's
My pretty invented word, 'tose,' any clearer
In point of its signification than 'towse'?
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poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Californian Poppy
My mother wore Woolworth's perfume
Californian Poppy sweet and heavy
Soir de Paris heady in the afternoons
Her evening spent with my baby brother
in the nursing chair
its low legs concealing the runt puppy
our fingers itched for
Ce soir mon frere ne mange pas
Born after a fall on the beach
after the Irish Ginger Women put her fist
right through our front door glass
he wasn't sure about life
Delivered into my drawer in summer
he had a winter skin For years
when the week-long vest was changed
he wore his clean one on top
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poem by Charlotte Peters Rock
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