A Collection of Poems by Billy Cosby, Guest Poet!

Animals are the focus of much of my life, and through my love of animals I’ve created many friendships. When I was 12 or 13 I became friends with a fellow equestrian named Anndy, and our friendship took off. Had it not been for our mutual love of all things furry, especially the variety with four legs and a tail (whether it is a dog, horse or cat), I doubt we’d be friends today. Our love of animals has been a part of our lives we’ve shared with each other, and it has been one constant that no matter how much we each grow and change, we will always have. Having grown up in the same town, Anndy and I make it a point to see each other and catch up when we visit our families for the holidays.

A few years ago, things changed, it wasn’t just Anndy anymore, but now she introduced her boyfriend Billy into the mix. At first, I was hesitant to accept Billy, after all, he knew nothing of being a 14 year old girl driving a moped, gossiping about boys, and picking up every stray we found. However, I soon realized he too was an animal lover, and quite a cool fellow (animals aside). A couple of years past, and I was able to spend a little bit more time with Billy, each visit getting to know him better. I was not at all surprised when I got the phone call that Billy would be moving in with Anndy, nor was I surprised when I got the phone call that Billy had proposed, and I was thrilled when they included me in their beautiful wedding at the National Steeplechase Museum. I knew this was a match made in heaven when their wedding website noted their dogs as flower girls, bios and all! Anndy and Billy now reside in Lexington, Kentucky with their beloved dogs Crunch and Barlee.

I am now pleased to say that Billy has become one of my friends, and we’ve been able to share three loves: Anndy (obviously, in very different ways), dogs, and the English language. As a teacher, Billy spends a great amount of time discussing poetry with his students. His class loves when he shares his own dog themed poems with them. I was thrilled when Billy contacted me to see if I’d like to share some of his poetry with my readers. Billy has a beautiful way of molding the English language into poetic music, and reading these poems makes me feel like I am in the room with the dogs he so vividly captures through words.

So without further ado, I present a collection of puppy themed poetry written by Billy Cosby.

She hears me.

She hears me

put my shorts

on.

On,

she cavorts

in a flee.

She lies down

at my socks

feet.

Fleet,

not like rocks,

streak of brown.

Barlee wags,

thinking jog,

soon.

Tune,

a rock blog,

leaving nags.

At the door,

leash in hand:

clip!

Rip,

my last stand,

she straight tore.

Her feet roar,

lion canned,

forth.

North,

pulls my hand,

so fast, “Foooooorrre!”

When the shorts

go on up,

tied.

Tried,

true this pup,

revved blood quarts.

Do Not Bring that Stick in Here

Do not bring that stick in here.

Do not share the wild.

I don’t sell the wind.

Our home is too soft.

Do not bring that stick in here.

Do not stretch our comfort;

our easy-going, snap-button wonder.

Our home is not ready.

Do not bring that stick in here.

Do not invite her in.

The Oriole will be the next to R.S.V.P.

Our home is not a cage.

Do not bring that stick in here.

Do not store kindling.

I won’t risk friction.

Our home is frisky enough.

Do not bring that stick in here.

Do not wave it like a wand.

We will not turn into cats.

Our home is for dogs…

…eh, and I guess sticks, too.

Barlee Marks

#1

Year of the Barlee:

marked by exclamatory,

pawed, parallel marks.

A summer season

of sunburnt, three-pronged marks

and beach balls popping.

Antiseptic fall;

displaced leaves and displaced skin

fall in a clawed fall.

A winter of youth,

Barlee still young, still wreckless,

young claws contact cells.

Ailing spring and flesh;

marks here and marked tulips spread

a landscape of scars.

Year of the Barlee:

marked by young marks; innocent

but somehow guilty.

The Dog Poet Laureate

You are the dog poet laureate:

designated per life,

diligently peeling language.

peeing, leg-lifting.

You are the dog poet laureate:

developing Pekinese landscapes,

devouring Poodles’ leaps.

You are the dog poet laureate:

deaf, paralyzed laps =

diary painfully laden.

You are the dog poet laureate.

Dalmation pairs lollygagging.

Dachsund princesses lazily…

You are the dog poet laureate:

daffodils pressed lastingly,

dahlias perfumed: lagoon.

You are the dog poet laureate:

danger-privy Labradors,

deserting privateer Leonbergers.

You are the dog poet laureate:

delectable pastel litter,

dancing, perpetual lifeguards.

You are the dog poet laureate:

dredging pawed labyrinths,

doggedly pursuing leashes.