Pages of Pet Poetry

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn's rain.

When you awake in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circle flight.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there,
I did not die.

The Silhouette - By Terri Onorato

The silhouette stands boldly
at the end of the hallway
ears erect, eyes like jewels
the tail, it softly sways.

This wouldn't be the first time
I've seen her stand nearby
her image clear as crystal
from the corner of my eye.

Her visits I don't share with some
who think I've went over and beyond
the grieving time they deem I need,
they say I should move on.

I sometimes pity people who
have never felt just cause
to share the bond between two souls,
one with hands and one with paws.

The silhouette reminds me
what the others say is wrong
for as long as breath goes through me
there exists our mighty bond.

When the Keeper calls me home
and the Bridge gates open wide
our bond will deepen ten fold
as we walk through side by side.

You see, I am the lucky one
as I've been truly blessed
for someday we'll walk together
as eternal silhouettes.

"Called To Give My All"

I am a deputy in a canine crew.
I've been trained to see it through.
When danger's near my ears perk up,
They taught me that as a little pup.

I'm often there to protect your rights,
My presence sometimes hinders fights.
I never attack with thought to kill,
When subduing one, my job I fill.

I never worry a single thought,
As to how I'll fare at a certain spot.
The love I have for a handler's care,
Is all I need, each day to fare.
And if some day my luck turns bad,
I'll relish all the joys I've had.

To be with men who stand for good,
In a special kind of brotherhood.
The story's end by now you know,
Of how I tried for a better show.

I did my best, though I did fall,
When I was called and gave my all.

Author Unknown

There's Always Room For One More

I see by his coat he must be a stray,
the untidy look gives him away.
He's lost his will and is so thin
hasn't eaten, since God knows when.
I know as I coax him through the door,
There's always room for just one more.

The other night in the freezing rain,
That little female came again.
Matted and soaked crying in need,
lost and alone with babies to feed.
Her pleading eyes I couldn't ignore,
There's always room for just one more.

There's a new face on the docks today,
hungry but clean, to our dismay,
I stroked her head Her body rippled
when she got up I saw she was crippled
she started to go, but fell on the floor.
There's always room for just one more.

There's the poor doggy standing in the rain,
I've tried to entice him Time and again.
One ears lopsided, the other's been torn,
Blind in one eye, lost and forlorn.
He's coming now, so I'll open the door.
There's always room for just one more.

These stories are true, As I've said before,
There's always room for just one more.


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a pet poem you would like listed here!