Monday, February 7, 2011

Not Again!

Photograph from Google


Here they go again! Those wretched upright creatures!
Fiddling with our DNA and altering our features!
I was once a mighty wolf, roaming the barren wastes,
But, seemingly, a mighty wolf was not quite to their tastes!
Oh no! They had to bribe us with little bits of food,
And their designs upon us were completely misconstrued!
We thought they were just friendly and we barked and barked with joy.
But no! They merely looked at us and saw a future toy!
Over the years they bred us to be fat or to be thin,
Or to be full of wrinkles with a very wobbly chin.
They bred us to be skinny, or cuddly perhaps,
Breeding us to nestle in fat ladies' ample laps.
They trained us to go sniffing, they trained us to pull sleds,
They sometimes squashed our great big brains inside much smaller heads!
They tell us that they love us, but I never see the proof!
We have become automatons with a humble doggy 'Woof!'
They tie leather straps around our necks and drag us round on leads,
And they carry little plastic bags to attend to our basic needs!
Now, above, see the ultimate foolishness! Indignity? Oh yes!
This dog is a noble creature but no-one would ever guess.
There's not much wolf left in him; look at those mournful eyes!
No doubt he'll be dragged off to a show and win the 'Comical' Prize.
But does the wild still stir in him when the full moon comes around?
Does he remember wolfish ways, poor humiliated hound?




Icarus has fallen.
His lifeless body lies on the rocks below.
He flew too near the sun.
But still his feathers
Drift down through the sky.
They may be lifted up
By a passing breeze.
They may dance awhile
In the blue.
But, eventually,
They, too, will fall,
As Icarus fell.
They will drift
Gently round his body
As he lies.
He will be as one
With his wings
Once more.

A Prose version of the story from the Internet.
" Icarus felt himself sustained, like a halcyon bird in the hollow of a wave, like a child uplifted by his mother, he forgot everything in the world but joy. He longed for one draft of flight to quench the thirst of his captivity: he stretched out his arms to the sky and made toward the highest heavens.Alas for him! Warmer and warmer grew the air. Those arms, that had seemed to uphold him, relaxed. His wings wavered, dropped. He fluttered his young hands vainly-he was falling-and in that terror he remembered. The heat of the sun had melted the wax from his wings; the feathers were falling, one by one, like snowflakes; and there was none to help."


Coffeedoff said...

I love the coloured dog. Poor thing.

Sharon Wagner said...

Fat ladies ample laps. Hilarious!