You are here >>> Fun and Games >>> Poets Corner |
|||
Border Collie Rescue - On Line - Poets Corner | |||
|
|||
THE BEST
PLACE TO BURY A DOG
"There is one best place to bury a dog. "And though you call a dozen living "People may scoff at you, who see "The one best place to bury a good Ben Hur Lampman
|
A
TRIBUTE TO SAM From
Bala to Llanafan from Moelyniadd to the sea. |
||
Because of Border ColliesBecause of border collies I have had friends in the darkest hours companions who became outdoor shadows and learned the meaning of unconditional love
Because of border collies I have been taught how to approach the day how to see places and objects with refreshingly new eyes and to appreciate the possibilities of the mundane
Because of border collies I have been denied access to pubs had to apologise to picnickers for missing sandwiches and to Sunday walkers for water-sprayed clothes
Because of border collies I have possessed hard-working vacuum cleaners had black hair hiding in carpets and clothes and mini-collie clumps under sofas and beds
Because of border collies I have had the pain of ending life watch ageing take over willing but incapable bodies and cried so long and so hard in emptiness
Because of border collies I have had a life that is full and beautiful that has made me a person who knows how to love and to be loved in an uncomplicated world
Ronnie Goodyer, Indigo Dreams Publishing Ltd |
The Collies Dilemma The Collie is a loyal Breed His greatest mission is to serve. He seeks to understand our need, to give us what we must deserve. So when we ask the worst of him to go against his natural need. He tries to satisfy our whim. Our vanity he seeks to feed.
In all mankind's most selfish dreams when seeking slaves to honour us. For some the Collie is the means, but are the reasons good enough? Why should we wish this noble breed to change it's ways and give to man, a means to satisfy our needs in all the ways we think he can?
Why is it not enough to gaze upon the Collie in the field, to let his trade and skills amaze and to temptation never yield? We make demands, we ask of him to sacrifice his purpose true, to let us get the best of him. He'll always try, but think - would you?
Mike Cooke Border Collie Rescue |
||
BURNHAM
BEECHES We walked at Burnham through the passing years, Beneath the gothic arches of the trees, And knew each knotted root, each jagged stump, The bones of ancient beeches, green with moss, Concealing crawly things in crevices. Ant's nest and broken branch were waymarks on The quiet familiar paths, where once we found Familiarity can breed content. Where now I walk, with you beside me still, But in the mind's eye only; in a dream Where you are always playing hide and seek, Or lurking in an ambush up ahead To pounce on me, your unsuspecting prey. And now, because I cannot let you go, These woods will be your happy haunting ground, A hoodlum spirit, harum-scarum ghost, Scattering the indignant squirrels, snorkeling In moldy leaves, and smelly ponds or worse - "Banned Substances", celestially foul. My friend, before they sing you to your rest, Those flights of angels would be well advised To get some paper spread around the place When muddy feet ascend the Heavenly Stairs, And you come woofing at the Pearly Gates. But if there is a notice on the door SORRY, NO DOGS ALLOWED IN PARADISE Then who would want to live there anyway, In all that spotless sanctimonious bliss? You're always welcome in the Other Place To sit with Cerberus beside the fire. And I might join you there before too long And say goodbye to all this emptiness. The emptiness behind me in the car, And all around me when I come back home. The bed, the hearth, the heart are empty now The memories remain, the photographs, Your portrait looking at me from the wall The red rosette for "Dog with waggiest tail", Your treasure chest, with all your precious hoard; Red Ball, Green Socks, and ugly Yellow Rat Who lay abandoned in a litter bin Unloved, until you came to rescue him. Assorted bones, your tatty woolly hat; Best trophy of them all, the greasy glove You stole from ATS at Beaconsfield. These rare and much sought after artifacts From the collection of a Gentleman. And what am I supposed to do with them, "These foolish things" reminding me of you? For life goes on, and somewhere, even now A small, black, hairy blob, stuffed full of Sin Is waiting to be born, to wag his tail, Insinuate his nose into my heart, And pester me to come to life again. And when he comes to Burnham, will he feel A kindly presence watching in the trees, To wish him well, then melt into the mist As veils of sunlight sift through autumn leaves? Richard Verschoyle |
MONUMENT
TO A DOG Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, And storied urns record who rests below. When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, Not what he was, but what he should have been.
The first to welcome, foremost to defend, Whose honest heart is still his master's own, Who
labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, And
claims himself a sole exclusive heaven. Degraded
mass of animated dust! Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!
Ye, who perchance behold this simple urn, Pass on, it honors none you wish to mourn. To mark
a friend's remains these stones arise;
|
||
Top | |||
You are here >>> Fun and Games >>> Poets Corner |
|||
Copyright - Border Collie Rescue - 3037504 | |||