Yes, you must see in me, as in those naked Branches, this my year approach an end, Full foliage of summer now unmáked, Shriveled and dry beyond all hope to mend. On these old near-blind eyes a darkening veil As on the forest masking dusk descends, As does the shadow rising up the dale, Leave […]
Sonnet 73: Zigmund Shakespeare Read More »
My master laughs at me when, of a sudden, I stop and stare at nothing, eyes blunked out Like Orphan Annie’s Sandy, ears perked up As if I might take flight, nose raised to seek For nothing my anosmic master scents. Is it the voice of Canis Major, the great Dog Emperor, I hear, or
For Once, Then, Something: Zigmund Frost Read More »
My Schatzie’s scent is nothing like a steak’s; Her breast is more a boulder than a pillow; If tails wave gracefully, hers coils like a snake’s; If fur’s like velvet, hers is more like Brillo; I’ve seen the gussied poodles of Westminster But no such elegance in Schatzie’s muzzle; And more sweet-scented is the ugliest
Sonnet 130: Zigmund Shakespeare Read More »
Oh wearisome condition of caninity Born with four paws, forbidden still to bound; Denied all joys for which I have affinity, Provided voice, yet not to make a sound. Why am I made to hunt, to howl, to roam And yet impelled to share some human’s home? I am supposed to ask for approbation, To
Muttstapha: Fulke-Zigmund, Lord Brooke Read More »
Stanza 1 In the Beginning was the bark And the bark was with Dog, and the bark was Dog All jarring atoms coalescing At bark’s first alluring call That sweet voice called them all together, Assembled chaos from their strife. Then did the trees, the air, the seas Assemble in one whole Called to communion
A Song for St. Cecilia’s Day: by Zigmund Dryden Read More »
When I consider how my life is scent What would I do if suddenly my nose One day became as moribund as those Of humans, who, if they could but be leant The merest hint of all my nostrils know Would fall, astounded, to the ground made
Sonnet 19: Zigmund Milton Steiner Read More »