(For Rescue Dogs Everywhere)
Imprisoned, detained, incarcerated, Why?
I have done no wrong, harmed no-one, yet here
I spend my days, behind these bars.
This bare concrete floor beneath my feet
is cold and hard and grey,
as grey as the days I spend here in my cell.
I’m exercised and fed ok.
My keepers smile and do their best, but still,
it’s not like home.
And I still don’t know what I’ve done to deserve
my sentence in this place.
My best friend fell asleep one day, that much I remember,
I tried but couldn’t wake him, not knowing what to do,
until someone found us there together.
Things happened very quickly, before I knew it,
here I was.
Locked up, behind these awful bars.
Stared at everyday by those who seem to
come and go so freely.
Why, I ask again, what have I done?
No-one listens to my cries,
and every day’s the same.
Monotony, seeming endless hours.
From all around my fellow inmates
let up the self same cry,
a cry for freedom, a cry of sheer despair.
People come and talk from time to time,
but do they care?
Why won’t someone show the love I once knew?
I need to be away from here,
to feel carpets beneath my feet,
feel the warmth of a welcoming fire,
to run free upon the hills.
If only just one person would see me,
perhaps then they’d let me out.
If someone would offer to give me a home.
Here’s another one coming, time to start wagging my tail!
Brian L Porter
For more details of Brian "Harry" Porter''s publications please see his website - http://harry-porter.webs.com/
For entertaining and amusing tails of his rescue dogs from the point of view of his dog, Tilly please visit her blog at http://tillyrescuedog.blogspot.com/
(The Meaning of Rescue)
Now that I am home, bathed, settled and fed,
All nicely tucked up in my warm new bed
I’d like to open my baggage lest I forget,
There is so much to carry – so much to regret.
Hmm… Yes there it is, right on the top,
Let’s unpack the Loneliness, Heartache and Loss,
And there by my leash hides Fear and Shame.
As I look on these things I tried so hard to leave
I still have to unpack my baggage called Pain.
I loved them, the others, the ones who left me,
But that wasn’t good enough –
For they didn’t want me.
Will you add to my baggage?
Will you help me unpack?
Or will you look at my things –
And take me right back?
Do you have the time to help me unpack
To put away my baggage,
To never repack?
I pray that you do – I’m so tired you see,
But I do come with baggage –
Will you still want me?
By Evelyn Colbath