[Jim Ramsey]

Version 3 responding to most of Richard's newest nits and now with edits to last lines responding to Sam's crit, and now once more by using Sam's suggested last line instead of the previous "this feat atop the morning bucket list."

A Matter of Some Consequence

She doesn’t care that it’s dark mid-winter.
I check to gauge how warm I need to dress,
—a hat and gloves plus scarf, two coats, no less,
and bags for messes left in lands of hinter.

She tries to stretch her territory widely,
but we’re not hunter-gathering, we’re shitting.
One more bush to sniff, man, we’re not quitting.
“But just one more,” implore I—never snidely.

This rescue's tale: Was dumped on a country road,
has thirty shotgun pellets beneath her skin—
a scrounging stranger greeted not as kin,
her limp and fear of thunder so bestowed.

And then we cross the street to Babel’s hydrant.
She finds there ancient voices, smells, and codes
of DNA dispersed, goes detective mode,
and whines and snuffles odes to wild ways silent.

She strains at leash’s end, and though we’ve been
here everyday this year, she keeps her focus.
It’s right here, bro, my lifelong goal, the locus
of dreams! The bag I hold is eco-green;

I wear it like a mitten pulled past wrist,
then lift her gift to stars and cold. It’s steaming hot,
and reeks with love in ways her past cannot
—this tribute from the morning's bucket list.

[end]

[previous last stanza that was replaced responding to Sam's crit]

I wear it like a mitten pulled past wrist,
then lift her gift to stars and cold. It’s steaming hot,
and reeks of trust and love her pains do not
—befitting gods, this offering held up high in fist.

suggestionNewest edit: S2and S3 switched
Version 2 with original S1 deleted, my dog's limp added to S2 and a couple other changes based on Richard's suggestions and my own revision

A Matter of Some Consequence

She doesn’t care that it’s dark mid-winter.
I check my phone in heed of need of dress
—a hat and gloves plus scarf, two coats, no less,
and bags for messes left in lands of hinter.

She tries to stretch her territory widely,
but we’re not hunter-gathering, we’re shitting.
One more bush to sniff, man, we’re not quitting.
“But just one more,” reply I, begging mildly.

This rescue's tale: Was dumped on a country road,
has thirty shotgun pellets beneath her skin—
a scrounging stranger greeted not as kin,
her limp and fear of thunder then bestowed.

And then we cross the street to Babel’s hydrant.
She finds there ancient voices, smells, and codes
of DNA dispersed, goes detective mode,
and whines and snuffles odes to wild ways silent.

She strains at leash’s end, and though we’ve been
here everyday this year, she keeps her focus.
It’s right here, bro, my lifelong goal, the locus
of dreams! The bag I hold is eco-green;

I pull it past my hand and down the wrist,
then lift her gift to stars and cold. It’s steaming hot,
and reeks of trust and love her pain cannot
—befitting gods, this offering held up high in fist.

Version 1

A Matter of Some Consequence

The rescue dog consults her trusty clock
and wakes me up to greet the layered frost
and brightness of the morning star among the loft
of stars that chalk the sky: Hey, man, it’s time to walk!

She doesn’t care that it’s dark mid-winter.
I check my phone in heed of need of dress
—a hat and gloves plus scarf, two coats, no less,
and bags for messes left in lands of hinter.

She’s had it rough. Was dumped on a country road,
has thirty shotgun pellets beneath her skin—
this scrounging stranger greeted not as kin
had trembling fear of thunder then bestowed.

She tries to stretch her territory widely,
but we’re not hunter-gathering, we’re shitting.
One more bush to sniff, man, we’re not quitting.
“But just one more,” reply I, begging mildly.

And then we cross the street to Babel’s hydrant.
She finds there ancient voices, smells, and codes
of DNA dispersed, goes detective mode,
and whines and snuffles odes to wildness silenced.

She strains at leash’s end, and though we’ve been
here everyday this year, she keeps her focus.
It’s right here, bro, my lifelong goal, the locus
of dreams! The bag I hold is eco-green;

I pull it past my hand and down the wrist,
then lift her gift to stars and cold. It’s steaming hot,
and reeks of trust and love her tale cannot
—befitting gods, this offering held up high in fist.

[Richard G]

Hi Jim,
lots of fun (dark mid-winter/lands of hinter, fantastic with its almost echo of Rossetti) though I think it ran away from you in places (heed of need of dress!)

S1 seems a little flat, do you really need it? Similarly S3 isn't making much of a contribution to the narrative. (Reads a bit like a plea for sympathy where none is needed.) If you did decide to cut these, perhaps then look at starting the 'Babel's hydrant' verse with She (She pulls me cross the street to ... ?)

I struggle with S4/L4, and S5 hydrant/silenced gives one pause, as does S6 leash's end.
S7, got lost on her tale cannot.


RG.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Jim—

I like how you balance the mock-heroic humor with real pathos for the rescue dog who has suffered so much. I’m surprised that a dog taking a dump turned out to be worthy of poetic treatment.

I second Richard’s advice to trim S1.

Fun to read!

Glenn

[Jim Ramsey]

Hi Richard,

Thanks for the input. Looks like this won't get much traction on the sphere. I achieved a certain infamy for dog poems, at least for my dog poems, here in the past.

Originally Posted by Richard G

Hi Jim,
lots of fun (dark mid-winter/lands of hinter, fantastic with its almost echo of Rossetti) though I think it ran away from you in places (heed of need of dress!)

I am ashamed I haven't Googled Rossetti yet but I will. Seems like lately I am letting everything run away from me in places, goes with aging I think...

S1 seems a little flat, do you really need it? Similarly S3 isn't making much of a contribution to the narrative. (Reads a bit like a plea for sympathy where none is needed.) If you did decide to cut these, perhaps then look at starting the 'Babel's hydrant' verse with She (She pulls me cross the street to ... ?)

Glenn agreed on S1's lack of punch and it's gone. As to S3, I feel I need a couple particulars of her story. The "rescue" adjective is getting attached to any animal given up by its original family these days. My experience is that dogs will always miss those they loved, but can adapt to new surroundings and new love fairly easily. The physical abuse is another matter. This one also had untreated heart worm and scars from fights including a split in her tongue. She has thirty seven shotgun pellets embedded in her as confirmed by X-rays.

I struggle with S4/L4, and S5 hydrant/silenced gives one pause, as does S6 leash's end.

S7, got lost on her tale cannot.

I've made a couple changes based on this input, though I am not figuring out where leash's end causes a problem...


RG.

Thanks again,

Jim

[Jim Ramsey]

Hi Glenn,

Thanks for the feedback. I'm glad you are accepting of my subject as being worthy of poetic treatment. I have cut S1 with some reservations but agree with you and Richard it can go. I can see that for the most part it is me playing indulgently with rhyme and words. As with all would-be poets, I try to get that part of life that affects me most strongly into my poems. For five years I have been getting up usually between four and five AM to take her outside. (I do not have a fence) She is old and leaks, but is so dutifully house trained that I do not want to ignore her whines and barks so heed her signal when it's time to go. She spent years in a crowded loving foster home as various adoptions did not work out, but had easy access to a fenced yard. She did not get to go on many walks. To some extent I enjoy the dark quiet of the neighborhood, the solitude of looking at the unlit houses, seeing the morning star so brightly shining, but on the other hand, that moment of her relieving herself brings me relief too, and not just because I can get back to the house. I get a lot of satisfaction from giving her attention of any kind. S1 had that meaning for me, but was not showing it to readers.

Jim

Originally Posted by Glenn Wright

Hi, Jim—

I like how you balance the mock-heroic humor with real pathos for the rescue dog who has suffered so much. I’m surprised that a dog taking a dump turned out to be worthy of poetic treatment.

I second Richard’s advice to trim S1.

Fun to read!

Glenn

[Richard G]

Hi Jim.

I achieved a certain infamy
Gotta admire a man that blows his own trumpet.

I am ashamed I haven't Googled Rossetti yet but I will.
It's "In the bleak mid-winter"

As to S3, I feel I need a couple particulars of her story.
Then perhaps have it follow the "But just one more" verse as it's currently interrupting the set-up?

She has thirty seven shotgun pellets embedded in her as confirmed by X-rays.
But what does it have to do with the dog, the narrator, and the baggies?

in heed of need of dress - alternatively, before the chore of dress ?

“But just one more,” reply I, begging mildly. - a little tortured, no?

hydrant/silent - better, though still noticeably weaker than the other A rhymes.
I like the codes/mode/odes but struggle to see what that last one has to do with detective mode.

Objection to leash's end withdrawn.

Still no wiser on (new) S6/L3


RG.

[Jim Ramsey]

Hi Richard,

I apologize for getting back late to you. Thanks for the feedback

As to S3, I feel I need a couple particulars of her story.
Then perhaps have it follow the "But just one more" verse as it's currently interrupting the set-up?

I will switch stanzas 2 and 3 and mull the change a while

She has thirty seven shotgun pellets embedded in her as confirmed by X-rays.
But what does it have to do with the dog, the narrator, and the baggies?

Maybe it just creates a sob story and depends on sentiment, but it's the reason I write poems about this particular dog and not the many others I've had through life. Hmmmm....

in heed of need of dress - alternatively, before the chore of dress ?

“But just one more,” reply I, begging mildly. - a little tortured, no?


I agree the syntax and word choices are a little tortured. Glenn aptly described my tone as mock-heroic and I mean it to come across comically. Picking up dog poop is not the usual way one pays homage to heaven. I'll think longer about changes. Like I said in my last comment, I'm not getting much feedback

hydrant/silent - better, though still noticeably weaker than the other A rhymes.
I like the codes/mode/odes but struggle to see what that last one has to do with detective mode.

I have two dogs currently. This one goes from spot to spot, assessing, marking quickly, but shows more interest in some of the messages left behind by other dogs than in others. My other dog wants to dwell, to savor, to create an image in her mind of the brute she missed in meeting. All dogs are fascinated upon seeing other dogs or in coming across their signs and want to investigate.

Objection to leash's end withdrawn.

Still no wiser on (new) S6/L3

Well, I originally wrote the line as "speaks" and then changed it to "reeks." My intent is to convey that her "tale", her "pain" are behind her and that the N's love for her can now be proclaimed to the heavens to demonstrate that her new situation in life has supplanted her old one as her life story.


Thanks again,
Jim

[Richard G]

Hi Jim,

S3/L4-S4/L1 - repetition of 'then'.

I mean it to come across comically.
I don't think it does in this particular instance.

She always tries to stretch her territory
...
"Just one more," I yawn. The same old story.
(widely/tiredly)

"I pull it past my hand and down the wrist,"
The first part of this made me think you were removing it (having put it on.)

My intent is to convey that her "tale", her "pain" are behind her
Then might 'cannot' be changed to 'forgot'?

RG.

[Jim Ramsey]

Hi Richard,

I've posted a new version in response to your latest crits. I didn't necessarily incorporate them exactly as you made them but certainly tried to capture their spirit. Thanks again.

Jim

[R. S. Gwynn]

I like the poem but wonder mainly about the last line; it's a foot longer and has that telegraphic "in fist." For me, it messes up the overall ease of the poem's execution.