Writing Prompt

Every morning after I wake up I walk around the city and look for breakfast. A lot of these buildings have these big green boxes outside with lots of smells and things to play with but most importantly they have food! If I’m early enough I can play with all the things and eat all the food before the big loud truck comes and takes it all away. My favorite place to eat from the big green box is a pl...

I back into the corner as they surround me, snarling at them, snapping my teeth and growling I do everything I can think of to get them to leave me alone.

I’m backed into the corner of a street only a tall wall one side of me and a bin I attempt to hide behind to no avail, I don’t know what they want with me, I whimper as I place my swollen paw back on to the ground as I hop sideways shielding my...

The dog barks at the wrong tree,

urinates and stakes his claim,

on the wall of the grumbling bus stop,

he

laughs it off as the humans walk

and talk, and shake their heads

and he

shakes his tail, shakes it and pants

he pants in the hot sun

with a dry tongue

lights up another wood tipped Black and Mild,

and hears the dirty man preaching

about Gentiles being alikened

to dogs eating the crumbs

th...

Wander the streets

Knowing not where you’re going,

How long you’ll be gone,

Or where you might end up,

But that you will keep going forward.

——————

This was going to be a whole poem but I quite like this and I think I made a pretty good quote :) a metaphor for life...

I can’t move anything. Right before I got to where I am now every move I had made halted in this clear tar. I can’t wiggle my toes, my eye and the side of my face is glued down and shut; but at least I am not alone. Someone got here right before I did. She was laying flat on their stomach with her arms pinned down by this goo. She was a lizard, just like me.

I didn’t know for sure what was go...

Beaten. Bones. Cold. Cut. Deprived. Depressed.

I felt all the pain in my minuscule life.

Who ever said everyone has a purpose was surely wrong, for what purpose did a poor stray dog like me have?

I cried at the sight of my broken body in comparison to the bright, bold, golden dogs who walked with their owners.

What was it like being loved? Cared for?

Again my stomach growls and I drag my bone...

Stepping in the same mud I ate

Made me feel

Not think

I wasn’t deserving of what

The other 95 percent of me

Lived as

The covers just aren’t fitting right

The feet I wished I had will never measure

To the flowery duvet I imagine when I lay

Squandering my life in somber, solid halls

Walls closing in when sky falls

Draped in black than blue

Bruises to my conscience

And consequence of be...

A thousand eyes scan the space looking for it

Sweet nourishment lands on hard surface

Tasting with many feet

Seeks

Finds

Absorbs

A wind from above

Something smashes

It sees no more...

She sees me from across the street. I know her type - rich, uppity, blind to a stray like me. My coat is even grungier today than usual; she’ll look me up and down with disdain and scurry away from me like I’m some vermin to avoid. Sometimes I am, I guess.

Like now, with my muzzle in a trash can that has been knocked over. She’s coming this way, I see from the side, probably to scold me, call the...

They call me Ham, sometimes they call me Big Ham, sometimes they call me Cutie Patootie with lots of neck scratching. That last one is my favorite. Long and rumbling, I answer these new names with purrs of I like you. I thread thank you so much around and around their ankles. I even rub their chair legs with my throat to say I want to stay here. And I do want to stay here. I want out of the big dr...