April 6 NaPoMo 2021
#1
Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.

NaPM April 6, 2021

Topic: write a poem about dogs and fairies, in that order

Form: any

Line Requirement: any

We trained the dogs to catch and fetch our kill
And moved to where we'd hunt and have our fill
But everything in life was ours until
The things we couldn't see became too real
What exactly is the cost per meal
You'd think the fish and insects couldn't feel
Or chopping down a tree considered steal
ing, but then again what if spirits will
Seek out vengeance for the trees that fell
And make your puppies disappear and yell
Until your wife goes mad under a spell
And drown herself, turn my life into hell.
The legends say the fairies live there still,
Spurned, burned, yearning to reheal.
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
Reply
#2
I saw him in the highway weeds
made a u-turn
got out of the truck and sat in the weeds
until I could coax him to me.
He was almost hairless with mange,
skin and bones, a puppy.
I laid him in the passenger seat,
And got back in the truck
looked down to see I’d been sitting in a fire-ant bed,
hundreds swarmed my groin,
but some Fairy of Charity had kept them from alarm
so I leapt out and began to bush them off
into oncoming traffic.
The Fairy of Stupid warded off the semis and SUVs,
I was back in the truck,
And he’s been with me ever since,
Even To South Dakota to see the Black Hills,
Colorado to buy weed,
to underworlds looking for my son’s ghost,
and he sleeps with me every night.
So I guess I’m saying,
I don’t need fairies anymore.
I got Buster.
"Take what you need and leave the rest"
Reply
#3
Some Other Sense

What are those smells along the trails
that you must uncover?
Why do you bark at nothing there
that I can’t discover?
Underneath the bridge, behind those trees,
apparitions, misty mysteries,
things that seem so plain to you
that I will never see-
some phantom, some phenomenon,
invisible as leprechauns.
Reply
#4
What resides inside

I see it in her darting eyes
the manic tail and prodded paw
a madness when she try's to fly
and lands spread eagled on the floor.

A test amongst the forest fauna
I slip the lead and watch her run
she leaves behind a frantic aroura,
a trace of where all dreams are from.

The bottled light she keeps inside
leaves its dust on me each day,
reminds me how the fairy's hide,
makes me want to stay and play.

If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
Reply
#5
Uncle suggested I have a canine companion;
   Dad resisted.
      Dogs are descended from wolves
      and can turn at any time.

Mum reckoned a troop of fairies might be good;
   I was unsure.
      Fairies seem a bit flimsy;
      how would they cope with the Hoover, e.g.?

Several suggestions later,
   I engaged a local care company
      (one of their carers would claim to be a fairy,
       but she'd be full of gin at the time).
Reply
#6
Night Howls, Morning Dew


Each night when Moon climbs high to shine
all dogs at liberty incline
to howl at it, to bark and bay
remembering old times when they
were wolves without a care for men
but this is now and that was then
before hearth-fires and food-bowl calls.

Each morning as Sun rises up
ten trillion fairies fly to sup
on morning dew, their rainbow wings
a-flutter as the first lark sings
untroubled men no longer fear
to be misled, lost for a year
each minute spent in fairy thralls.

Men want wolves back and turn some loose
with savage beauty their excuse
(and to reduce a glut of deer)
but fairies, ah, we do not hear
of their release from storybooks
for fairy dances, elfin looks
dissolve where innocence appalls.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
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#7
My dog trotted in yesterday


My dog trotted in yesterday
with something in his mouth -
something diaphanous, like a fairy’s wings,
a tiny lock of human like hair -
and vomited the whole thing out.
Unfortunately, Titania
was missing her head and torso -
and Oberón - what remained of him -
substantially more so.
O foolish beings, to prance around
just because - midsummer -
on an suburban lawn in front of a hound
who’s always looking for dinner!
Long before Yeshua broke his bread,
the Phoenicians found Ibiza,
and a millenium’s work lay ahead
for the stonemasons of Giza,
a Darkinjung would’ve made his bed
and slept surrounded by fairies.
But O! The seasons moved around
till the sun was angry in Aries,
and now the Darkinjung’s hunting ground
is squatted on by Gosford pound -
Murdoch: ‘what a bunch of Marys’

(04-06-2021, 08:08 AM)Mark A Becker Wrote:  Some Other Sense

What are those smells along the trails
that you must uncover?
Why do you bark at nothing there
that I can’t discover?
Underneath the bridge, behind those trees,
apparitions, misty mysteries,
things that seem so plain to you
that I will never see-
some phantom, some phenomenon,
invisible as leprechauns.

I really like this one
Reply
#8
I spend my time with my head bowed low,
everyday gatherin sticks and stones,
nurturin that erb to spin me rope
to build myself a nub and tie myself a bow:
before I die, I'll see you hang.

When the devil don't care about the cold,
there ain't no thing like growin old.
When you sic your dogs on me to strip me down to bone,
there ain't no runnin on an open road:
there's only the alley where I'll see you hang.

Where my angel flew me on her saxophone,
I found no green pastures, no city of gold.
Yeah, I've seen the Lord comin, but his goin's slow
so he gave me a hammer and seeds to grow.
He wrote near the end of his book, you'll hang.

Beat up my daddy, burn a cross by our door,
rip up my mama's veil, slant your eyes some more,
call my brother fairy, call my sister whore,
the sea ain't gonna swallow us, the Jews all run the show:
well, before we die, we'll see you hang.
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