Least Read Poems About Dogs

A three legged dog with brown curly fur waited in the alleyway.
     The dog’s name was Stumpy.
The rain and ice had cracked the concrete. Years of waste had washed through. It was slimy and grey.
A boy of seventeen, ragged, hungry, and pale, was rummaging around a dumpster.
Stumpy barked.
A man dressed in beige grabbed hold of the Dumpster Boy and pulled him out. It was the manager of the Magnificent Burger House. He was sweaty and salty and his moustache covered his mouth.  
     “What are you doing in my Dumpster?”
The boy had hold of a bag of mouldy...

The lady up the street, so prim and uptight,
Counts the barks of my dogs in the dead of night.
Each woof, each howl, to her seems a sin,
While I find her complaints the true racket within.

Dogs must bark; it’s their nature, their way,
To speak of the moon or to greet the new day.
But people, oh people, could choose to refrain
From whining and moaning and spreading disdain.

Her voice cuts sharp, a drill to the brain,
Each word dripping venom, a ceaseless refrain.
So here is my plan, my silent retort,
A gift on her step, of the...

When it came to that dog's heart, his owner's death sure did break it.
He lost his master and his best friend and he simply couldn't take it.
He stayed at his owner's grave and he would continuously howl.
When I tried to move him, he snapped at me and he would growl.
I gave him food but he wouldn't eat and he starved to death.
He couldn't live without his owner and he took his final breath.
A veterinarian tried to help the dog but he growled and snapped at him too.
The vet wanted to save the dog's life but sadly, there was nothing he could do. ...