dying leaves on trees

changing color falling down

where now is your soul

The Little Dog

The little dog stands alert

looking for something to bark at.

Most of the time there’s nothing

and he is disappointed.

Looking for something to bark at

takes concentration and grit,

and he is disappointed

if he goes in without uttering a sound.

Taking concentration and grit,

he plans for the next time he goes out.

If he goes in without uttering a sound,

there is nothing to be rewarded for.

He plans for the next time he goes out.

Most of the time there’s nothing.

There is nothing to be rewarded for.

The little dog stands alert.

© Julianne Carlile

That Bell

The way the bell
rang on that day
was like a tell
in poker play.

It rang to say
war had begun,
that on that day...
an end to fun.

It rang so loud
and rang so hard
some there were proud
and others scarred.

Who knows for whom
it tolled that bell,
for life’s a tomb,
and hell’s a bell.

©️ Julianne Carlile

2016

the garage guard dog
next to him leaning in close
his young replacement

Irresistible

Violet pearlescent eye shadow;
watermelon tinted chap stick;
cover stick to cover the blemishes and
give you that glow;
rose gold eye cream, only to be worn
at night at some posh function.
You can never wear too much blue eye shadow
someone once said in a movie and, by George, it's true!
A fresh tube of lipstick, a new shade...
oh, wait, it's the same as the one in my drawer.
Time in front of a mirror with a palette
to choose from, my face the blank canvas...
I have a cousin who's never worn make-up.
Of course, she's very beautiful, but how can she resist
the irresistible? 

© Julianne Carlile

My Doberman

My Doberman killed a rabbit.
From inside the house I heard

the high-pitched squealing of it,

like a piglet or a baby crying.

When I went out to see he dropped it,

shamefaced, at my feet—

bloody, torn, broken,

formless as a hobo’s shoe.

To My Little Dog

Do not worry my precious little one,

when relatives' dogs come to stay,

please know you are my only one.

Though I will feed them one by one

and I will feel affection for their play,

do not worry my precious little one.

When in the yard I throw the ball for one,

you look at me and feel you should stay,

please know you are my only one.

When at the vet and you are number one,

and I hold you on the table to make you stay,

do not worry my precious little one.

After the vet, when we are done,

and we are home and you are once again gay,

please know you are my only one.

After you are gone I will miss all the fun,

I will try not to think of that terrible last day.

Do not worry my precious little one,

please know you are my only one.

© Julianne Carlile

The Mukwonago River

I drive by the Mukwonago River,

where arrowheads were found for many years.

The river is a really big giver

of crappies; fishermen shed happy tears.

I’ve never walked there, though I’ve been here years;

it’s for other people, but not for me.

I smell it when I go by and my leers

rival those I have for a lake I see.

The deep, wet odor, earthy and salty,

and the mist, tickling and teasing my skin.

I resist the pull as it calls to me.

It calls: come to me please, and please come in.
And I wonder if I will ever go;
the years I have left do not go by slow.

© Julianne Carlile

Dog Haiku

Add caption

I bark all night long
my owner is not at home
but I do my job

© Julianne Carlile

Bumblebee (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

on purple thistle

a bumblebee lulled and still

sun slips heaven sways

© Julianne Carlile

What Is It About the Bee?

English: Yellow jacket queen Image copyleft: (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What is it about the bee

that makes it bite me so excruciatingly?

Or is it its cousins I’m thinking of?

Either way I do not love

any of that family.

Too bad the bee and the planet are hand in glove—

maybe if we just killed the other three?

© Julianne Carlile