PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

so you're not an Eddie Murphy: so you're not an Eddie Murphy acolyte?

I am so sorry you have had to: I am so sorry you have had to experience this.  My chihuahua is more than ten years old (she was a rescue), and we know the day is drawing near.  I happen to believe, however, that a couple of Scriptures suggest all of God's creation will be restored---not replaced but repaired from the damages of death.  I think our beloved pets will be in Heaven.  (Scripture teaches that Jesus has a horse there---Revelation 19:11).  Through my sixty-five years, six special dogs have been part of my life, and I fully expect to enjoy their company in Heaven. 

so sorry for your loss: so sorry for your loss

Thank you very much. I: Thank you very much. I appreciate the time you've given and the wishes. Who knows what time may hold. Perhaps the dandelion seed finds it's home.

Thank you, my friend - both: Thank you, my friend - both for reading and for the generosity of your words.

A masterful creation captured: A masterful creation captured in short lines of palpable pathway-ism-intellect glories a story of estranged emotion for whosoever isn't clever as a Poet of likeness to your own high caliber. bravo y bravo again!!

When some of my siblings and: When some of my siblings and I were little, our family had forty-fives that mom and dad would play for us. One was "How Much Is That Doggie In the Window?" Reminds me of some seemingly outdated joys, but ones that were so amazing then and probably still are, given the chance: kaleadoscopes, projectors that played individual images of scenes on the wall rather than the fluid tape of movies, cassettes where we'd record music off the radio, and the like. In a lot of ways, my family probably had things that were considered quite outdated at the time (except the cassettes), which is why my parents were able to get them - via someone disgarding them. Anyway, your poem made me think back to all of that. :) But in a more direct, even if somewhat abstract, connection to your poem, I'll share this:   Our neighborhood had a lot of hookers roaming around, for most of my early childhood years. On a few occasions, we had hookers look through our window to see if anyone was home, hoping to steal my sister's drying clothes off of the line (which happened a number of times). "How much is that hooker in the window" brings some different images to mind for me than most readers, I imagine, as such.