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Poetry & Prose By Randi Perlman A magnificent creature of splendor and grace Whose beauty and antics put a smile on your face A bountiful package, from nose tip to tail A spectacular specimen in every detail His tri-color coat was worn with great pride And when out and about would stay close by your side He was gentle and playful, a dog of deep soul Dignified yet goofy, admired by all He was larger than life, head and heart above others and smart as a whip when he played with his brothers He was stunningly handsome and everyone’s friend, loved by so many ‘til the way-too-soon end His size was impressive but he never abused it His majesty spellbinding and hard to refuse it There was something about him, so hard to define That set him apart, pushed him past that fine line His paws were enormous but he moved them with care He impressed in the show ring but never with airs He was blessed with a family that loved him complete And they were blessed back by a dog oh so sweet A kind gentle giant, but not just in size His heart was expansive, his wise loving eyes He could tell you his thoughts with one simple bark He brought joy to admirers if you said Fenway, park! He was one of those dogs who was just so much more Who made you just want to get down on the floor And hug him and roll with him and be his best friend And you knew that he’d be there for you to the end As he was, and I guess that you can’t ask for more Than to be greeted each day by Fenway at the door We all feel his loss and the sadness it brings But his spirit lives on each time Willy sings
MID-OCT 2021
There are no mere words that can paint a clear picture Of a dog and his family and what they meant to each other But they shared him with others who all loved him deeply Now his heart and his soul live forever within me I’ll always be glad to have known him with love And look forward to the day when we meet up above… In wondrous memory of a magical dog, and a loving tribute to the family who cherished him.
By Joshua Fryfogle Frozen over, frost It’s that time of year again When the cold sets in
By Caitlin M.S. Buxbaum the trick is figuring out if the ghost in the walls is you, or me, or something else entirely — and who (or what) carries the most weight
By Nick Begich Sr. The wind pulls at the Autumn leaves, In Vagabond Blues looking out the window on a Sunday afternoon,
Contributed by Wendy Brooker The Wicked Witch of Palmer spied a red spider upon her weaving webs from her toes to the warts on her nose. Now that spider, well, it’s a goner!
Contributed by Katherine Baker Predator, Steadfastly staring, Intense focus, Daring, snaring, Baring teeth, Prepared for tearing, Lunging forward, Eyes flaring, Hope is gone, Of any sparing, Death’s final view, Truth is sharing.
Pretty women on cell phones Lost in idle When, what they might seek, Is in the room, sitting there. Did you come out because you wanted to meet? Or just to be seen, and admired. No matter, the elegance of your movement Is not missed in expression outward. We are all there an outward reflection, Of the immoral internal soul, And lost in the form of it Or carried in the body only as a living soul. Flowers out the window, Hanging baskets still in bloom, in fall. What brings into form the bloom, The flower the press into the warmth of the sun. Sun in the high degrees soon lost here, As darkness forbodes the winter Not be the winter of the soul But the search for the warm hearth of heart in cold winter’s breath. Breath in your own breath of life again, Freed from the sense of it again to remember, What and who I am…. What be you this blessed day at Vagabond Blues….?