Sunday, November 11, 2012

Sad Dog Eyes







 Sad Dog Eyes



Sad dog eyes always follow
warm in winter day,
shining stones in the shadow.
Mad though, nervous and fey
caught in my grey
blue watery stare's hollow.

Brown as coffee boiled bitter
acid on the tongue
cupped in kisses, lips drip-squeezed,
a sip teased, then the run;
a beating sun
thins the runts from the litter.

Dog eyes full of desire
fickle as a breeze,
love blowing for all comers;
runners, laden with fleas
or weak at knees
suit a mongrel on fire.

Somebody new to follow
something new to sniff,
turn belly-up for pleasure
don't measure for the cliff,
snoot up the whiffs
ignorant of tomorrow.

~November 2012







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Sunday Mini-Challenge
Kerry O'Connor has discovered a serious contender for her challenge today in a complex counted syllable stanza developed by poet Louis MacNeice. I won’t attempt to scare anyone by trying to explain it, as Kerry lays it out clearly at the link above.I have cheated a bit in using a slant rhyme or two. 

No disparagement of actual canines is intended.








Image: At the screen, © joyannjones, 2012
 





23 comments:

  1. Damn, girl! You tore this up!

    "a beating sun
    thins the runts from the litter."

    Wow.

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  2. Kerry has since corrected a slight discrepancy in the second line rhyme scheme, but I'm not going back now! Sorry, all you purists. ;-)

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  3. awww. yeah, mama zen noted the money lines! love that.

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  4. absolutely love that second stanza...from the coffee to cupped kisses onto the runts...its got it all in there hedge...your last stanza made me grin again...

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  5. I'm soooo sorry about that damn second line internal rhyme, but honestly, I couldn't think of changing a word of this poem. Your subject is one very close to my heart, and I love the contrast between the (awful) image of the caged dog, and the one that runs free in stanzas 3 and 4. (What are a few fleas between friends?)
    I must add that I think your 'c rhymes' are absolutely splendid.

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    1. Thank you, Kerry. This is another one of those poems that never would have been written without your challenge so I double-thank you. And I don't think I could change it now, even if i wanted to!

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  6. There is more than one kind of dirty dog...one that barks needs grooming, and one that slips its leash and picks up fleas somewhere, necessitating a stay in the doghouse, perhaps permanently. Sometimes dogs that stray can't get loose from the bitch and have to stay that way. Serves them right, if you ask me.

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  7. "...Because you know what they say, every dog has his day.." Even misfits have to find their way. No rules with daffodils. The herb garden works for me.

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    1. It's the only place left I have space. Lots of my herbs are annuals and won't get planted till Sir Winston is ready to take a long summer nap. Amen on the dog and his day.

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  8. Oh I so love this - especially the belly-up and happy flea-bitten rovers. AND I smiled at your "no disparagement of actual canines is intended." Loved my visit here this evening, Hedgie.

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  9. Full of desire and fickle . . . I've never understood how one partner could ever meet a dog's needs. If I "got" that, I'd be a sucker for the sad brown eyes even with fleas. Meanwhile, cats and their scorn suffice..

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  10. ...I have four dogs, two are going hiking with us tomorrow, two must stay home. Sad dog eyes will be behind the door ...

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    1. and I think your c-rhymes quite clever and slant rhymes quite refreshing. :)

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  11. I knew I would come here and find you have handled the form wonderfully. There are so many delightful lines, but I really like this one "Brown as coffee boiled bitter"

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  12. I'd say you did an amazing job with this..it is full of richness.

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  13. So clever! So textural! Makes me want one more excuse from Nanowrimo! I don't know if I could do one though. Looks hard!'!! Though you make it flow beautifully. K.

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    1. Thanks, k. It *was* hard, especially the interior rhyming, and now that Kerry has 'fixed' it by including another one in the second line, it would be even harder. Fun though, I think, and always surprising to me how form can take a poem a different way.

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    2. Yours so much fun - I read it getting on train this morning, and so made myself try. Yours is real poetry - and great picture too. I had fun though. Ha.

      Frankly, what I think is hard is not so much the rhyme as the syllabication - the odd lines will not bend well to iambs, and many of us have such a strong imprint of that, it is very difficult to use the odd number of syllables - there is just something about the way the rhymes and syllables combine that you really can't squeeze in many tada tadas - this for me is like tying a couple of arms behind back. k.

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    3. I like counted syllables, because they enforce simplicity in my verbose and convoluted style--the meter for me is usually secondary when I write--either automatic mindless 'roses are red' stuff, which I try to avoid, or absent at least consciously unless deliberately part of the rules of a form--though I notice I seem to be getting the hang of pentameter more, to where it seeps into things the way you describe--but that's only in the last few years. I think the syllable counting forms are always rough, though, both for the reasons you mention, and just for sheer pressure of having to prune out pronouns, adverbs, articles, etc without making the poem into an incomprehensible telegram. I'm off to see what you've done.

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  14. Excellent...I'm floored, you make it look easy, Hedge...I know it's not...the details and pov you bring are vivid...bringing all the senses into consideration!

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  15. wow - you did such a great job! My wheels stopped turning and I could only use a picture for a prompt. I have two dogs, so I see those sad dog eyes everytime they get left at home.

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  16. I get all comfy with your color-rich lines in the beginning. your rhymes take me out of my ease and pop me around in the life of dog. always coming back to the eyes. (I'd love to have a dog living with me) love the final lines, too..."snoot up the whiffs/ignorant of tomorrow." words to the wise.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg