That Snow

Image via Wikipedia

There is no snow anywhere,
just ice--frozen rain like dried milk that
sticks to my windshield and scraper.
But at the stop sign in the dark of night
are two snow boulders,
as if someone traveling from up north
dropped them off of their vehicle
and went on without noticing.
In the cold dark morning
where I can hardly see to drive
they are like headlights--
a beacon lighting my way.

© Julianne Carlile

That Doll

Image via Wikipedia

That baby doll
with the real eyelashes,
that cooed and wet,
with the velvet sashes,

that Santa for some reason
never brought,
the one I waited for,
for nought,

surpasses all others
through all the seasons:
all memories, all presents,
all dolls, all reasons.

© Julianne Carlile

Image by Gattou - away going for Zim after work via Flickr

It's cold outside,
But not as cold as it's been.
I still think I can win.
So for all of you doubters,
And self-proclaimed pouters,
Here's to the win.
It's in.

Here Lives a Dog

Image via Wikipedia

Here lives a dog who by relation,
knows every dog in this
whole nation.
And if I wanted to take
it further,
he knows every dog
over yonder.
But don't let me forget
I live--
every dog is radioactive
and though it seems to some like nought,
can give me more than I
ever thought.

© Julianne Carlile

2011

Counting the Dogs

Image via Wikipedia

This dog wore a sweater,
this dog stayed home,
this dog was given snacks and cheese
but would eat none,
and this dog barked woof woof woof woof
all day long.

This dog jumped into a car
as though it were an adventure,
this dog ran and chased a ball,
this dog was too tired,
and this dog barked woof woof woof woof
all day long.

This dog thought he was a person,
this dog thought he was a cat,
this dog thought he was a dog,
an ordinary dog,
and barked woof woof woof woof
all day long.

© Julianne Carlile

2011

The Bird Man

Image via Wikipedia

The bird man used to ride
around here.
He had a bright red bike
with silver handle bars.
Two birds would ride on the handle bars,
one bird on his head,
one bird on each shoulder,
one bird would ride on the back
and fly and land and fly and land.

I heard one day they just took off.

© Julianne Carlile

Ladybug, Ladybug

Image via Wikipedia

Ladybug, ladybug,
where did you go?
I haven't seen you for years
and I miss you so.

I see your twins,
not as pretty as you.
They are everywhere.
I kill them too.

I remember when you had
in my small glass jar,
so many babies
people came from afar

just to see and admire
all that you do.
I miss you ladybug.
I miss you too.

© Julianne Carlile

2011

My Chihuahua

Image via Wikipedia

He's a cat
in a dog's body.
Tiny, he roars
at everything.
His dainty mouth
and ears,
and feet,
belie the tiger within.
Is he the descendent
of the ancestor
of both the cat and dog?
We are related way back.
He know this
and chases our feet
trying to get back
to where we were the same.

© Julianne Carlile

2010

Men's Tiny Brains

Image via Wikipedia

What tells my tiny dog
it is time to chase?
He sees something move,
and he is on the case.

It's almost like his brain,
as small as it is,
is tuned to just one thing--
and better if it's kids.

But he's not prejudiced,
all's in his purview:
trucks or geese or leaves, or
me or even you.

Some men will not play with him
because of his trait--
when he chases their feet
feeling turns to hate.

© Julianne Carlile

2010

My Rose

My roses are making their last bloom.
They fight season's end but they show no care
for it, they come on still.
Fewer flowers than first,
but the bush is much bigger and greener as if cursed
in June to look puny.
I took one two days before the first hard frost.
It sat on my table really not looking lost.
And as it opened slowly to its own fullness
winter descended with a great "OH!"
It answered in kind.

© Julianne Carlile

2010

He Kicks Like a Bull

On Guard (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He stands still as a small statue,
but the eyes keep rolling,
looking for movement...

Any sign at all that someone’s there in His territory

is a big NO and will not be tolerated,
no way, no how, no reason for it.

It always happens, something moves or someone,

some wrong thing that must be told right away:
"You are not wanted here."

His hind end quivers all over,
growls come from deep down in his throat,
his eyes light up with fires damped until now,
and he starts his familiar dance.

His leg stretches out in back

and points like a ballerina at barre.
Then the other leg vibrates.

It's all over with,

both legs kick in rhythm,

clumps of grass are lifted and fly backwards.

His front feet paw the ground in frenzy.
His head lowers and raises as he snorts and sneezes –

completely lost in it now,
he has not thought of me or looked.

But now he stops, his look so clear:
"It's really something, isn't it?"

© Julianne Carlile