Thread: Poems

Just some random dog poems I have collected over the years,

A dog does not live as long as a man and this natural law is the fount of many tears.
If boy and puppy might grow to manhood and doghood together, and together grow old, and so in due course die, fully many a heartache might be avoided.

But the world is not so ordered, and dogs will die and men will weep for them as long as there are dogs and man."


And

THE LAST BATTLE (aka If It Should Be) – Author Unknown

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

You will be sad I understand,
But don’t let grief then stay your hand,
For on this day, more than the rest,
Your love and friendship must stand the test.

We have had so many happy years,
You wouldn’t want me to suffer so.
When the time comes,
Please, let me go.

Take me to where my needs they’ll tend,
Only, stay with me until the end.
And hold me firm and speak to me,
Until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time you will agree,
It is a kindness you do to me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I have been saved.

Don’t grieve that it must be you
Who has to decide this thing to do
We’ve been so close – we two – these years,
Don’t let your heart hold any tears.


And my favourite

"Oh God, my master,
Should I gain the grace
To see thee face to face when life is ended,
Grant that a little dog
Who once thought I was god
Might see me face to face."

John Rucker

Twenty seven inches at the shoulder,
You'll see the sun shine off his back.
He has won a Slieveanorra thrice,
Kilakee and Scotstown's track.
His father came form far Brazil and his mother was from Rome,
But it is old Bangor County Down,
that the Black dog calls his home.

Points his gane and aways ways backs,
Drops like a stone to the gun's loud crack,
Quarters far and wide like a stallion,
Oh I love my pointers black.

Five pointer men from Ireland's shores set off a cross the sea,
I don't know why they bothered there place was always going to be three,
but when the day was over and the results were announced,
it was the English and the Scots we had so roundly trounced.

Jimmy Dalton, Maurice Getty,
Eric Lynch, Tony Kieran and me,
we won the day at Balmoral,
the famous Millenium victory.

But now the story's over,
the big black dog is gone,
no more to Scotland we will go
or on Yorkshire's moors will roam.
I never see your like again if I live a hundred years,
But I've so many memories to relive,
there is no time for tears.

So Roi I bid you fond adieu,
We had so much fun we two,
so when you get to doggie heaven
sing Horray! for the red white and blue.

Des O'Neile c. 2000.
(Can be put ot music. The tune is The Sash.)

Wow Mikee, good thread. Reading these has brought back a flood of memories and watered my eyes.

Did you just pen that VC? Very good man.

The Mourner

By Mary Champion

One day they called and when I came they said,
"Hes gone" - and put a hand on my head.
My kennel's here and everyone is kind,
But where is he? - It's him I want to find.
I eat and sleep and do the work im told,
But must it be like this until I'm old?
They think I lie content in shade or sun,
But where has he gone? Where is all the fun?
Down in the shed I found his cap and scarf -
(I shut my eyes and sniff and hear him laugh!)
They never move; they're powdered now with snow
Of spiders' webs, as long days come and go.
What can I do? Perhaps I'd better stay -
I couldn't find him if I ran away.
I'd lose the little bits of him I know -
The favourite places where we used to go.
He didn't mean to leave me here behind;
Oh, where is he? It's him I want to find.
And silently and quietly, early, late,
I search, I hope, I listen, - and I wait.
I cannot understand. He isn't here.
He's gone, he's lost. He's gone away, but where?



from the book "Sheep dog trialling in Poverty Bay and beyond" by John Tombleson, I hope no one minds

How did that happen? VC's poem has disappeared. He must have taken it down.

^ talking to yourself Rushy? VC not on this thread mate, check up time?

Originally Posted by Gibo

^ talking to yourself Rushy? VC not on this thread mate, check up time?

No, he posted a good poem last night but I reckon he has taken it down because it was about hunting and not about dogs (which this thread is aimed at).

Originally Posted by Rushy

No, he posted a good poem last night but I reckon he has taken it down because it was about hunting and not about dogs (which this thread is aimed at).

Winding ya up mate, I read it and enjoyed it. He should put it somewhere else.

Originally Posted by Rushy

No, he posted a good poem last night but I reckon he has taken it down because it was about hunting and not about dogs (which this thread is aimed at).

Yep

Originally Posted by veitnamcam

Yep

Put it somewhere mate it was good.

Ill see if the wife has thrown it out when i get home.

Daylight fading, no creature stirring
Waiting, breathing, me and my boy
Wind lacing the air, warm anticipation
Not a sound, just breathing, from me and my boy,
Oiled bolt, oiled skin and dog tonight my kin
Not a sound, just waiting

Tan fur breaks twigs, then rustles into our domain,
Waiting and breathing, me and my boy
Steel bolt slides and feeds and tan furs life is hung
A squeeze, a crack, a pill in his lung

Leaving our outpost, nothing to prove
Bolts and dashes and hunts and grooves
Guards the catch unwavering loyalty in his eyes
He waits for me, sitting, breathing, does my boy

Good lad I utter, another day in Gods own I mutter,
He waits and breathes and does this for me,
No conflict, no boundaries, just me and my boy

Returning home to hot fire and wine
He's constant, steady, content with me
Ready for whatever tomorrow will bring
Now sleeping, breathing, always waiting, my boy