Mr. T & Ms. Tilly
Every night around the hour of ten
the dogs awake and the havoc begins.
At the door with a bark and howl
with an occasional deep guttural growl.What lurks in the darkness do they see
that will turn them into panicked banshees?
Excitement rises when I finally open the door
out they go running, sprinting on all four.I peer though the window hoping to find
a striped giraffe or something of the kind.
Perhaps a spotted zebra covered in gold
or even a dragon told in stories of old.Hues of grey between white and black
it must be shadows, color vision they lack.
Could it be something even more sinister
like a ghost or goblin, should I call a minister?They circle the yard and stop in their place
hoping to find anything to pounce or chase.
Noses in the air and tails waggle with delight
Hunters they have become in the dead of night.Still at the window, I watch and giggle
as the little one has a funny wiggle.
Body like a torpedo on short little legs
hound dog eyes that love to beg.The larger of the two is a fright to see
if you are somewhere you should not be.
He is smart and proud - very protective
would certainly make for a good detective.After scoping the yard and did not find
anything that was vicious or even unkind.
They alertly sit in the center of the yard
loving the feeling of being on guard.The amazing attribute these dogs share
is the love for me their hearts willingly bare.
That they would rush to risk their life or limb
on a hunch or some unexplained canine whim.They keep me safe from dangers they sense
From all the little critters behind the fence.
I sleep soundly knowing I have defenders
To scare off zebras, giraffes, and the tiny offenders.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-TheMsLvh © 2011
Posts tagged TheMslvh
Source lostinlo
Greif often gets in the way
like a granite stone in a river
impeding the gentle sway
of the moonlight’s reflected silverAt times it is sorrow
which steals the breath away
forgetting that tomorrow
will bring sunshine’s warm bouquetSadness, hidden deep behind
wandering eyes, searching to find
the joy, that once playfully lived
in a beating heart that loved and thrivedSometimes there is music
only grieving ears can hear
soothing melodies floating , the intrinsic
strum of a harp, angels hidden nearLonely hearts long to fly away
held, captured by a thief
familiar creature appearing each day
dark and forbidding known as grief~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-TheMsLvh ©2011
Inspired by “Thy son liveth: Messages from a Soldier to his Mother” by
Grace Duffie Boylad
Source lostinlo
Watch the spider hang
Precariously alone
Far from home, its web
On a single thread
No control of wind and rainBlown by a dark storm
Raindrops creating black holes
Tears the fragile web
Which keeps secure the spider
The place she calls homeWhile hung by a thread
Tossed by nature’s mad fury
Tightly grips the string
Holding onto precious life
Riding out the stormUnknowing how to endure
Raging storms that blow~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-TheMsLvh ©2011image source: http://www.jimstonefreelance.com/spiders.htm
Source lostinlo
When you speak of Santa Monica
reliving the sexual arousal
recalling such naked erotica
our behavior controversialIt lit you up!
I remember a night in Century City
feeling like a princess in a lion’s den
papers flew off your desk, you took no pity
watching city lights as you dined, and thenYou lit me up!
Nights we shared at the Troubadour
listening to music, drinks at the bar
the smell of musk entering the door
from the stained carpet on the floorThose nights lit us up!
We were so young experiencing
life, lust, with no commitment
naked souls dancing, accosting
each other bodies, pure amusementThese memories lit us up!
Reminiscing your powerful touch
keeps me longing for your bead of sweat
fingers on your back in tight clutch
these are moments, never to forgetThe next encounter will light us up!
Once again and again and again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-TheMsLvh ©2011
Source lostinlo
He is slick and intentionally mysterious,
his magic should be taken extremely serious.
Slight of hand to the untrained eye,
even virtuous women would be mystified.
Innocence nourishes his ultimate lie.Untold secrets held close to vest,
aroused laughter, amused, you are his guest.
Reluctantly, picking a card, choosing the best,
from the spread of the Magician’s tattered deck.
Throwing caution to the wind, “What the heck?”Vigilant eyes scintillate the dark of night,
elevating senses by the moment’s excite.
Blinding the deer with beam of headlights.
dazed confusion feeding his addicted delights.
Raising his thrill to monumental heights.Trickery his game, merely views you the fool.
Desire to believe, though, you are just his tool.
Intoxicated by the masked perception,
keenly skilled art of deception.
An illusory feat from its conception.Smooth lacquered cane emblematic of his trade,
waving it freely, enhancing the charade.
Victims soon forgotten on his wizardly trail,
restoring equilibrium to his inner scales.
Enlisting deceit, his shenanigans prevail.Weaving versed spells across the land,
beware the affect of this mystical hand.
A traveler, a mystic, armed with cunning art,
coursing a path embellished with wounded hearts.
Upon magic, into the wind, he inexplicably departs.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-TheMsLvh ©2011
Photo source:redbubble.com/people/bensound
artist: bensound
Source lostinlo
