[null and void]

Because NicknamedBob's writing doesn't get near the exposure it deserves...

From The Cave

We stare morosely at the rain,
As we sit in the mouth of the den.
There’ll be no game to flush,
No tracks to smell, so then …

It’s back into the labyrinth,
Where darkened comfort waits,
And soon enough, a meal appears,
On clean and shiny plates.

The animals who live here,
Accommodate our pack,
For we stand guard, protecting them,
That’s how we pay them back.

NicknamedBob . . . . October 26, 2007

[NicknamedBob]

"Because NicknamedBob's writing doesn't get near the exposure it deserves..."

Heh.

Here's another poem about dogs. I thought former White House dog Barney would have made a good leader ...

.

Dark Horse Candidate

Barney has his work cut out, rewriting constantly,
His Spellcheck doesn’t function well, (Let’s not blame poor Miss B.)
It’s this old cast-off computer, that he must try to use,
And someone put a Spiel-check on, to help the writer’s muse.

But speeches aren’t his strong suit. Prompt action is his way,
We’ll see the difference real soon. This dog will have his day!
The rumor has been spreading round, the Veep is soon to go,
The resumé needs polishing, but Barney’s in the know.

He hears the scuttlebutt for sure, his ear is to the ground,
And if a tasty bit of news should fall, with Barney it’s soon found.
The Boss will need some back-up, and who best to supply,
Than W’s best friend in the world? Yay! Barney, he’s our guy!

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . April 4, 2006