Doggerel

Before we get off dogs (if we ever do), two dog poems for your entertainment. (The first was sent to me by Peculiar).

SMALL POEM ABOUT THE HOUNDS AND THE HARES

After the kill, there is the feast.
And toward the end, when the dancing subsides
and the young have sneaked off somewhere,
the hounds, drunk on the blood of the hares,
begin to talk of how soft
were their pelts, how graceful their leaps,
how lovely their scared, gentle eyes.
(Lisel Mueller)

And another:

HOPE

At the foot of the stairs
my black dog sits;
in his body,
out of his wits.

On the other side
of the shut front door
there's a female dog
he's nervous for.

She's the whole size
of his mind-- immense.
Hope ruling him
past sense.
(William Dickey)

I must admit I was moved to blog poetry today by Pluvialis. Just go read the whole blog-- where else can you get Frank O'Hara, falconry, and flying saucers-- er, make that "rods"?