Monday, June 29, 2009
Doggy style
Shameless affection, doggy style
My dog is the lucky one -
ignorant of decorum.
Focused on her greedy need
for affection: determined
to make you aware of her
desire for your friendship.
She nudges – asking to be
petted and doesn’t take offence
when you say not now. She comes
back five minutes or five hours
later – when her need for touch
wells up within her again.
She licks – connecting with your
essence, and then can relax.
Watching from across the room,
she is attentive to mood,
your movements. Ready to join
and share with you in joy, grief.
I love that my dog conveys
simple faith so naturally.
I block, I worry. I take
not now for never, not me.
I want to love like my dog –
joyful, connected, able
to touch and share; all of me,
without shame, panic or pause.
Kathy Young
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Sunday poems
Loyal
William Matthews
They gave him an overdose
of anesthetic, and its fog
shut down his heart in seconds.
I tried to hold him, but he was
somewhere else. For so much love
one of the principals is missing,
it's no wonder we confuse love
with longing. Oh I was thick
with both. I wanted my dog
to live forever and while I was
working on impossibilities
I wanted to live forever, too.
I wanted company and to be alone.
I wanted to know how they trash
a stiff ninety-five-pound dog
and I paid them to do it
and not tell me. What else?
I wanted a letter of apology
delivered by decrepit hand,
by someone shattered for each time
I'd had to eat pure pain. I wanted
to weep, not "like a baby,"
in gulps and breath-stretching
howls, but steadily, like an adult,
according to the fiction
that there is work to be done,
and almost inconsolably.
from Selected Poems and Translations 1969-1991, 1992
Houghton Mifflin, New York, NY
Copyright 1992 by William Matthews.
Another yes and no morning
By Kathy Young
was the wind howling this morning?
yes
did I get out of bed when the alarm sounded?
no
was the dog eager to start the walk as soon as I was ready?
yes
did I remember to bring the poo bag?
no
did my feet get wet almost immediately as we got to the field?
yes
was it as cold as the wind said it would be?
no
did I hear the birds sing and was I alone dancing with the stars?
yes
could I see my little black dog running gleefully against the dark green hills?
no
was the coffee and toast and kitchen warmer and friendlier for having braved the morning?
yes
do I wish now I’d stayed in bed the extra forty five minutes
no
will I want to get out of bed tomorrow with the alarm?
yes and no
William Matthews
They gave him an overdose
of anesthetic, and its fog
shut down his heart in seconds.
I tried to hold him, but he was
somewhere else. For so much love
one of the principals is missing,
it's no wonder we confuse love
with longing. Oh I was thick
with both. I wanted my dog
to live forever and while I was
working on impossibilities
I wanted to live forever, too.
I wanted company and to be alone.
I wanted to know how they trash
a stiff ninety-five-pound dog
and I paid them to do it
and not tell me. What else?
I wanted a letter of apology
delivered by decrepit hand,
by someone shattered for each time
I'd had to eat pure pain. I wanted
to weep, not "like a baby,"
in gulps and breath-stretching
howls, but steadily, like an adult,
according to the fiction
that there is work to be done,
and almost inconsolably.
from Selected Poems and Translations 1969-1991, 1992
Houghton Mifflin, New York, NY
Copyright 1992 by William Matthews.
Another yes and no morning
By Kathy Young
was the wind howling this morning?
yes
did I get out of bed when the alarm sounded?
no
was the dog eager to start the walk as soon as I was ready?
yes
did I remember to bring the poo bag?
no
did my feet get wet almost immediately as we got to the field?
yes
was it as cold as the wind said it would be?
no
did I hear the birds sing and was I alone dancing with the stars?
yes
could I see my little black dog running gleefully against the dark green hills?
no
was the coffee and toast and kitchen warmer and friendlier for having braved the morning?
yes
do I wish now I’d stayed in bed the extra forty five minutes
no
will I want to get out of bed tomorrow with the alarm?
yes and no
Sunday, June 21, 2009
From stairs to Leith
Taking in the view!
Attacking the unarmed snowman
Climbing the stairs
Searching for ducks
Monday, June 1, 2009
The Idea of a dog
From: Kathy
Sent: Friday, 29 May 2009 2:01 p.m.
To: Sean Curham
Subject: I get a 'daily poem' sent to me and this was todays.
The Idea of a Dog
The idea of a Rottweiler grew legs
And walked. Its big, square head
Atop the solid, barreled torso
Looked up, waiting for instruction
Or embrace.
The idea was obedient,
Faithful, intimidating to others,
But the idea was lopsided.
So the idea developed a twin brother.
Now, in my head, I'd say "sit"
And they would, dogs in duplicate,
Each reflecting the other identically.
I could see myself walking the streets
Flanked by muscles moving in tandem
Over the powerful shoulders
Of my synchronized keepers.
Perhaps I'd redden my lips,
Wear sunglasses
And a very short skirt.
Frieda Hughes
Sent: Friday, 29 May 2009 2:01 p.m.
To: Sean Curham
Subject: I get a 'daily poem' sent to me and this was todays.
The Idea of a Dog
The idea of a Rottweiler grew legs
And walked. Its big, square head
Atop the solid, barreled torso
Looked up, waiting for instruction
Or embrace.
The idea was obedient,
Faithful, intimidating to others,
But the idea was lopsided.
So the idea developed a twin brother.
Now, in my head, I'd say "sit"
And they would, dogs in duplicate,
Each reflecting the other identically.
I could see myself walking the streets
Flanked by muscles moving in tandem
Over the powerful shoulders
Of my synchronized keepers.
Perhaps I'd redden my lips,
Wear sunglasses
And a very short skirt.
Frieda Hughes
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Me and My Shadow
Thanks to Sean for inviting me to contribute photos to this website.
Here are a few I took last weekend which focused on our shadows.
Other dog walkers please feel free to join in!
Fran (& Tara)
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