Like a Dog (REV 4)

[Mark A Becker]

Like a Dog   (#4)

Unlike people, dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame, we step up
to carry them in. Hard as it may be,  
we meet their eyes with our own, softly
call their names, and offer a comforting touch,
holding on as they’re gently put down.  

My sister would rather have died like a dog.
A timely, kind hand could have spared her
when cancer finally closed in, catching her
                      all alone.         It crept in
silently as a spider, baring its hideous fangs-
curved needles that dug deep inside her.

Without the simple kindness afforded a dog,
at the mercy of darkness, she lingered.



Like a Dog  (#3)

Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame,  
we step up, hard as it may be,
to offer a comforting touch
as they’re put down.  

My sister would rather have died like a dog.
I wish a kind hand could have spared her
as cancer closed in, caught us off guard-
her all alone- the spider crept closer,  
baring black fangs, curved needles that dug
deep inside her.

Without the kindness afforded a dog,
trapped and tortured, she lingered.



Like a Dog (REV 2)

Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame,  
helpless and broken, we hold up,
offer a comforting touch,
as they’re put down.  

My sister would rather have died like a dog.
I really wish she could have  
had a warm hand to guide her,  
kept cancer from catching her
all alone, its spider-like fingers
disguised by the shadows.

Unlike a dog,
my sister had to linger.


Like a Dog

Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to suffer.
When they grow old and lame,
helpless and broken, we hold on,
talking slowly, weeping softly,
as they’re put down.

My sister wanted to die like a dog.
I really wish she could have
seen one more smile, heard a good-bye,
kept cancer from catching her
all alone, dragging her down
its hideous hole.

Unlike dogs,
people have to suffer.

Original:
Done With Dogs
I’m done with dogs. I was done even before
I told my son we weren’t getting another. I knew better
than to fall for begging, but we know how that goes.
Before I knew it, there I was, again, walking
a damn dog, feeding him, and taking him to the vet.
Always trying to find somebody (anybody) to dog sit
so that I could actually go anywhere for more than a day.
But there I was, stuck, walking in the rain, with a
gnawed on umbrella, and freezing in 5 below, wearing
chewed up gloves, and muffs with one ear missing.  
And yep, that was me, out on the trail those summers, dragging
at 95 plus, while the dog got to cool off in the creek, then
track mud all through the house.  What a dumb-ass
I was.  I even bought those stupid doggie toys, just because
the dog loved to open things.  It seemed to help keep him
out of the trash can, by giving him something else to tear apart.
The only problem is that the back yard is now full of holes
where legless clowns and headless monkeys are buried.
At least he was easy to please.  The same old thing always
seemed new to him.  Maybe that’s why he always had to tag along.  
A simple run up to the store?  Didn’t matter.  Gotta go.
Why do dogs act like a dumb car ride is some great adventure?  
His favorite was the vet.  Other dogs. Cats.  All that attention.
But, oh my God, the vet bills.  Of course, there was no doubt  
who would pay those, or who would be the one to clean up
the shit when his hips gave out.  I knew I’d have to be the one
to carry him to the vet.  What about my hips?  My back?
How is it that dogs just keep right on smiling, even when
they’re not able to walk?  Lord were those vet bills expensive.
I’m sorry. They just got too damn expensive.
You have your own place now, son.  Just because you’re going
on vacation, doesn’t mean you can drop off that three-legged
fuzz ball, with the floppy ears, and full moon eyes, at my house.
I’m done with dogs.  So stop the begging...

[QDeathstar]

Done With Dogs

I’m done with dogs. I was done even before
I told my son we weren’t getting another. I knew better
than to fall for begging, but we know how that goes.
Before I knew it, there I was, again, walking
a damn dog, feeding him, and taking him to the vet.
Always trying to find somebody (anybody) to dog sit somebody (anybody) is redundant and I'm not sure it adds anything
so that I could actually go anywhere for more than a day. seems wordy. Why the word actually? To be honest the entire line is rather dry... Maybe paint a picture of somewhere you wanted to go but were forced to stay home again. Also, you talk about your son liking the dog. I think there is an opportunity there to contrast perceptions of events rather than these dry generalizations
But there I was, stuck, walking in the rain, with a
gnawed on umbrella, and freezing in 5 below, wearing i stumbled over this with the rain, then walking in five below. I also don't like the 5, it sticks out. I understand that these are different instances, but I found it distracting
chewed up gloves, and muffs with one ear missing.  
And yep, that was me, out on the trail those summers, dragging
at 95 plus, while the dog got to cool off in the creek, then
track mud all through the house.  What a dumb-ass
I was.  I even bought those stupid doggie toys, just because
the dog loved to open things.  It seemed to help keep him
out of the trash can, by giving him something else to tear apart.
The only problem is that the back yard is now full of holes
where legless clowns and headless monkeys are buried.
At least he was easy to please.  The same old thing always
seemed new to him.  Maybe that’s why he always had to tag along.  
A simple run up to the store?  Didn’t matter.  Gotta go.
Why do dogs act like a dumb car ride is some great adventure?  
His favorite was the vet.  Other dogs. Cats.  All that attention.those aren't complete sentences and I can't make out what you are trying to say
But, oh my God, the vet bills.  Of course, there was no doubt  
who would pay those, or who would be the one to clean up
the shit when his hips gave out.  I knew I’d have to be the one
to carry him to the vet.  What about my hips?  My back?
How is it that dogs just keep right on smiling, even when
they’re not able to walk?  Lord were those vet bills expensive.
I’m sorry. They just got too damn expensive.

You have your own place now, son.  Just because you’re going
on vacation, doesn’t mean you can drop off that three-legged
fuzz ball, with the floppy ears, and full moon eyes, at my house.
I’m done with dogs.  So stop the begging...

This read more like a journal entry that a poem, I'm not great with meter, but it didn't feel like it had one. There's not a lot of imagery of use of metaphors.... It's just there.

Unless the dog is a metaphore for atomic weapons. But I'm not that clever.

[Mark A Becker]

Hey qd-
Thanks for taking a look and leaving some comments.

There is no intended meter, as this one just popped out... like a journal entry (with line breaks). The journal entry observation is quite right.

Ah yes, the dog as an atomic weapon. Sometimes it feels that way. Certainly, dog as biological weapon.

I write a few poems like this every now and again, which makes them ripe for slicing and dicing. But that's exactly what I'm looking for. This one, being brand new, may require a lot 'o cutting.

Or maybe I just run with it as a "shaggy dog" story (bad pun, sorry). But that would meaning adding, instead of subtracting...

Thanks again!
... Mark

[ellajam]

Hey qd-


There is no intended meter, as this one just popped out... like a journal entry (with line breaks).  The journal entry observation is quite right.

I have to say this read as more of a rant than a poem for me. It seems to have no emotional core, yeah, chores are a pain in the ass, babies need diaper changes and gardens need their weeds pulled.

You might want to try writing it from the dog's POV to breathe a little life in it, just a suggestion to shake it up a bit. Or stand up strongly if you resent that all that works leads only to grief with no redeeming value, if that's what you want to express. As is it pretty much leaves me with nothing. Sorry if this is a bit of a light critique for Serious, but that's all I got. I'm sure you can do something with the idea, but right now I think there's more work to do on your end before it's ready for to be poked at. Good luck with it.

[milo]

Done With Dogs

I’m done with dogs. I was done even before
I told my son we weren’t getting another. I knew better
than to fall for begging, but we know how that goes.
Before I knew it, there I was, again, walking
a damn dog, feeding him, and taking him to the vet.
Always trying to find somebody (anybody) to dog sit
so that I could actually go anywhere for more than a day.
But there I was, stuck, walking in the rain, with a
gnawed on umbrella, and freezing in 5 below, wearing
chewed up gloves, and muffs with one ear missing.  
And yep, that was me, out on the trail those summers, dragging
at 95 plus, while the dog got to cool off in the creek, then
track mud all through the house.  What a dumb-ass
I was.  I even bought those stupid doggie toys, just because
the dog loved to open things.  It seemed to help keep him
out of the trash can, by giving him something else to tear apart.
The only problem is that the back yard is now full of holes
where legless clowns and headless monkeys are buried.
At least he was easy to please.  The same old thing always
seemed new to him.  Maybe that’s why he always had to tag along.  
A simple run up to the store?  Didn’t matter.  Gotta go.
Why do dogs act like a dumb car ride is some great adventure?  
His favorite was the vet.  Other dogs. Cats.  All that attention.
But, oh my God, the vet bills.  Of course, there was no doubt  
who would pay those, or who would be the one to clean up
the shit when his hips gave out.  I knew I’d have to be the one
to carry him to the vet.  What about my hips?  My back?
How is it that dogs just keep right on smiling, even when
they’re not able to walk?  Lord were those vet bills expensive.
I’m sorry. They just got too damn expensive.

You have your own place now, son.  Just because you’re going
on vacation, doesn’t mean you can drop off that three-legged
fuzz ball, with the floppy ears, and full moon eyes, at my house.
I’m done with dogs.  So stop the begging...

I am not even sure why you put line breaks in this as they seem more measured out like fire wood than thought out for effect.  If you remove them we get this:

I’m done with dogs. I was done even before I told my son we weren’t getting another. I knew better than to fall for begging, but we know how that goes. Before I knew it, there I was, again, walking a damn dog, feeding him, and taking him to the vet. Always trying to find somebody (anybody) to dog sit so that I could actually go anywhere for more than a day. But there I was, stuck, walking in the rain, with a gnawed on umbrella, and freezing in 5 below, wearing chewed up gloves, and muffs with one ear missing.  And yep, that was me, out on the trail those summers, dragging at 95 plus, while the dog got to cool off in the creek, then track mud all through the house.  What a dumb-ass I was.  I even bought those stupid doggie toys, just because the dog loved to open things.  It seemed to help keep him out of the trash can, by giving him something else to tear apart. The only problem is that the back yard is now full of holes where legless clowns and headless monkeys are buried. At least he was easy to please.  The same old thing always seemed new to him.  Maybe that’s why he always had to tag along.  A simple run up to the store?  Didn’t matter.  Gotta go. Why do dogs act like a dumb car ride is some great adventure?   His favorite was the vet.  Other dogs. Cats.  All that attention. But, oh my God, the vet bills.  Of course, there was no doubt  who would pay those, or who would be the one to clean up the shit when his hips gave out.  I knew I’d have to be the one to carry him to the vet.  What about my hips?  My back? How is it that dogs just keep right on smiling, even when they’re not able to walk?  Lord were those vet bills expensive. I’m sorry. They just got too damn expensive. You have your own place now, son.  Just because you’re going on vacation, doesn’t mean you can drop off that three-legged fuzz ball, with the floppy ears, and full moon eyes, at my house.I’m done with dogs.  So stop the begging...

now, I am not eager to get into the "is this a poem or isn't this a poem" debate, but to me, it reads more like someone bitching about their dog.  I think you could make a bitching about the dog poem, but it needs more thought.  Perhaps make each trial a metaphor to somehow enlighten the human condition.  Put a turn in it somewhere.  Really, anything to separate this from just being a facebook post bitching about your dog.

Good luck with it.
Thanks for posting.

[tectak]

Done With Dogs

I’m done with dogs. I was done even before
I told my son we weren’t getting another. I knew better
than to fall for begging, but we know how that goes.
Before I knew it, there I was, again, walking
a damn dog, feeding him, and taking him to the vet.
Always trying to find somebody (anybody) to dog sit
so that I could actually go anywhere for more than a day.
But there I was, stuck, walking in the rain, with a
gnawed on umbrella, and freezing in 5 below, wearing
chewed up gloves, and muffs with one ear missing.  
And yep, that was me, out on the trail those summers, dragging
at 95 plus, while the dog got to cool off in the creek, then
track mud all through the house.  What a dumb-ass
I was.  I even bought those stupid doggie toys, just because
the dog loved to open things.  It seemed to help keep him
out of the trash can, by giving him something else to tear apart.
The only problem is that the back yard is now full of holes
where legless clowns and headless monkeys are buried.
At least he was easy to please.  The same old thing always
seemed new to him.  Maybe that’s why he always had to tag along.  
A simple run up to the store?  Didn’t matter.  Gotta go.
Why do dogs act like a dumb car ride is some great adventure?  
His favorite was the vet.  Other dogs. Cats.  All that attention.
But, oh my God, the vet bills.  Of course, there was no doubt  
who would pay those, or who would be the one to clean up
the shit when his hips gave out.  I knew I’d have to be the one
to carry him to the vet.  What about my hips?  My back?
How is it that dogs just keep right on smiling, even when
they’re not able to walk?  Lord were those vet bills expensive.
I’m sorry. They just got too damn expensive.

You have your own place now, son.  Just because you’re going
on vacation, doesn’t mean you can drop off that three-legged
fuzz ball, with the floppy ears, and full moon eyes, at my house.
I’m done with dogs.  So stop the begging...

Stop. Just stop. Lookee, you CAN write poetry. What is this? Oh, it's prose/free verse (whatever), text, words...call it what you will...yes to all that.But come on, this is Serious Workshopping...crazy line breaks, pointlessly deliberate/accidental  enjambments, no rhyme, meter or, and I hate myself for saying it...skill.
All you have done is write your life moment. No spelling mistakes? Excellent. Punctuation? Adequate.How do we crit this? I will try.
It is observationally accurate...I cannot argue with your thinking. Well, that's about it, really. I fear you miss the point. You are supposed to make your effort the best you can in this forum.
Best,
tectak

[Mark A Becker]

Yes folks-
I certainly released this one to the hounds in its early stages (probably the way too early stages).

I'll admit to releasing it too early, with the (flimsy) excuse of letting it be kicked around, as I'm having a hard time getting this one outta the yard and on its leash.

I guarantee that it'll wind up in a much shorter form. It wouldn't surprise me if I whittle it down to a dozen or fewer short lines.

That said, it would not bother me in the slightest if this one slinks into the doghouse until I do so. (It may take awhile for the REV, and it hopefully won't get bumped much before that).

Thanks!
... Mark

[tectak]

I thought this forum was for poems that need serious help?

qdeath...serious crit. There is a difference. Mod

---

Yes folks-
I certainly released this one to the hounds in its early stages (probably the way too early stages).  

I'll admit to releasing it too early, with the (flimsy) excuse of letting it be kicked around, as I'm having a hard time getting this one outta the yard and on its leash.

I guarantee that it'll wind up in a much shorter form.  It wouldn't surprise me if I whittle it down to a dozen or fewer short lines.

That said, it would not bother me in the slightest if this one slinks into the doghouse until I do so.  (It may take awhile for the REV, and it hopefully won't get bumped much before that).

Thanks!
... Mark

Hi mark,
Do it justice.
Good egg,
tectak

[Mark A Becker]

Done With Dogs is now: Like A Dog

Like a Dog

Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to suffer.
When they grow old and lame,  
so frail and broken, we can hold on,
talk slowly, weep softly,
as they’re put down.  

My sister wanted to die like a dog.
I would have loved if she could have  
seen us smiling, heard our good-byes,
kept cancer from catching her
all alone, drawing her down
its hideous hole.

Unlike dogs,
people have to suffer.

[tectak]

Done With Dogs is now: Like A Dog

Like a Dog

Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to suffer.
When they grow old and lame,  
so frail and broken, we can hold on,
talk slowly, weep softly,
as they’re put down.  

My sister wanted to die like a dog. Unfortunate connotations which on this side of the pond you would be surprised to hear is not a good thing...I guess that is why it is a huge cliche
I would have loved if she could have  
seen us smiling, heard our good-byes,
kept cancer from catching her A late fait accompli which should, I would have thought, be the primary wish.
all alone, drawing her down
its hideous hole. As a metaphor it works purely because of the descritive horror but it is not successful as a clarifying construct. In fact, the visualisation is extremely difficult...but so is the disease, so you may get away with it.

Unlike dogs,
people have to suffer. Hmmm. Not sure about the accuracy of this little "enjoinder". You see, dogs DO suffer...just not all dogs and not as long as people. Unlike some dogs? some people? Your poem

Hello Mark,
Well, it is a different piece...why not come clean? This has got a point and a purpose. I am not the best crit having just lost my dog to cancer in April (See "By my Hand" on this site. I cannot read it) but let us stick with the poetry.
Veracity verse...what to say? Well, I am not a fan of chopping up text into convenient lengths and calling it poetry. It seems to me to benefit neither camp.
S2, L2 ending on "have" seems to be purely to go with the cast-in-stone line lengths set up at the start to no real advantage. S2, L4 and L5 end in similar dire circumstance.
In any piece of random-everything-poetic it beats my why writers force themselves in to irregular holes. Of course, there is an overbearing sense that the message is greater than the mechanics but that is invariably the case. Good messages, though, deserve good mechanics...or why try to make a poem of it?
For this crit, then, a little more structure and you have it. I confess, and have done so often, that it is easier (and more fitting) to write sombre thoughts in longer lines. Short lines are staccatto and tend to jolt the fragile intent. Longer lines have a further advantage. You have more time (=distance) to manoeuvre your words in to sensible and sensitive order. For the linguine poets, this is an anathema, as it makes their offerings much shorter. I do not include you in this group but you are getting a little fettucini with this one.
I could
go
on but
I think you get
the
point.

Best,
tectak

[Mark A Becker]

Thanks Tom,
I'm not sure what you mean by 'come clean' unless you're referring to how I got from point 'A' (the much longer version) to point 'B' (the shorter one). I was inspired by a poem by mercedes, opened up the fire hose with the first version, and then went back to see what stuck. Using that process, I usually wind up at a very different place from where I started. That's about as "clean" as I can come.

YES: In REV 2, I abandon the general and tighten down to 'some' dogs, for the very reasons you pointed out.

Also YES- even in the US of A, 'dying like a dog' is not something good. In REV 2, I aim too soften that, by indicating that my sister's wish was specific to 'her dog'.

I also appreciate the comment regarding length of lines, and will need to figure out how to apply that to my style.

All that said, this is a very tough one to complete.

Thanks again for reading and commenting,
....Mark

[danny_]

Like a Dog (REV 2)

Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to linger. 
When they grow old and lame,  
helpless and broken, we hold on, at first i thought "we hold on" was about our enduring. maybe hold them close or hold tight? also consider less 'tell' words and more imagery, so show us the age, the slow walking, the difficulty even getting on all fours, the gray hair, and what helpless looks like
offer a comforting touch,
as they’re put down.  you could describe the caress through the fur to imply comforting touch

My sister would rather have died like a dog.
I really wish she could have  
had a warm hand to guide her,  the line break after could have seems like the end of statement "i really wish she could have. " but continues with "had..."
kept cancer from catching her
all alone, its spider-like fingers catching her all alone touches the heart, as i imagine a person going through something like this alone. 
disguised by the shadows. i'm unsure of how it is disguised, what shadows? sorry might just be me

Unlike a dog,
my sister had to linger. i like the last line. "unlike a dog" seems a little bland. i mean the message is a very good point to be made but could be made less matter of factly perhaps? it would require some thinking.

This seems like a different work altogether. I'll critique this latest one, but I have to say the first one has a different potential that I like too.You might make two poems. This Rev2 is more serious and I like the work so far. Also I think it's great that you do the flood writing first, I will always swear by that method to get a poem started, or even unstuck when you need to really just sit down and get to the bottom of it without worrying about form. Kinda like molding clay, we mold our writing from a large clump into a clean form. 

[Mark A Becker]

Hi Danny-
Thanks for your comments and suggestions.
 
I've re-worked this into a third rev, and tried to eliminate much of the "telling".

You are correct, I didn't like "disguised by shadows" either, and it is gone.

I re-made the end so I could even attempt to convey what I witnessed as my sister neared the end.  (A note here:  I was actually with her when she died, but can only imagine the horror of the many folks that have gone through this utterly alone).

I also re-made the very end, as I thought it was too bland, as well.

My sister wanted to be "put down" surrounded by family, but the law does not allow it.  Fortunately, that law does not apply to dogs, and I'm hoping to draw that contrast here.

Thanks again for the close read,
... Mark

ps- I never know what to do with the first, "fire-hose" versions, and they usually wind up trashed.      

[danny_]

Like a Dog  (#3)

Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame,  
we step up, hard as it may be,
to offer a comforting touch
as they’re put down.  I personally wish this was shown more. I will write more about this below.

My sister would rather have died like a dog.
I wish a kind hand could have spared her
as cancer closed in, caught us off-guard,
and her all alone- the silent spider
bared its fangs, curved needles that dug 
deep inside her.

Without the kindness afforded a dog,
trapped and tortured, she lingered. trapped and tortured is telling, not showing.

Mark, first of all, very sorry for your loss and that hard experience.

Writing about it is a good idea. It can help you some, through the hard times.

As far as the fire-hose versions. What I feel they provide is help to understand, by getting you to the core of what you want to say. It's like opening a window to the wide panorama before you actually write what you see. Also, with unhindered expression, you can use all the metaphors and similes and whatever else you want to try to express it. Out of that kind of garbage heap of words might shoot up a red rose of poetic expression that you could use in a poem.

I say this because I think it would help you with such a hard and deep subject. You may better touch your readers by putting us in the same moment you were in by her bedside. What you have is good, but it could be better, simply by putting us in your shoes so that, when we are in that moment, we can't help but respond emotionally to the experience. 

May I see the room, the window, the light on her hand before you touched it? Isn't it what you saw that broke your heart? And what you imagined when you were not at her side?  That is what I appreciate when reading anything. It's going to require you really go back in your mind to that moment with her and write what you see. Patiently discover the vision you want to share.

Keep on writing. 

[Mark A Becker]

Thanks Danny

I appreciate your comments and condolences, though it has been more than two decades since my sister, Linda, passed, and more than three since Buck, the dog.

There have been several more since, both people and pets, and to some degree, they all appear in this piece.

The poem is intended to show the contrast between how pets and people meet their respective ends.

That said, I am not at all satisfied with the ending to this one, and have since revised it (again).

Thanks again,
... Mark