Picasso’s Dog


Image source: http://kellywalkerstudios.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/picass1.png


Picasso’s Dog

You wandered in, made yourself

at home there

in an artist’s arms, and unaware

of his status or yours

you simply lived

as man’s best friend

un tres bon chien

unwittingly deconstructed on canvas.

I wonder if you saw yourself

in that single, ink-black stroke

a portrait, or an artist’s joke?

If you’d found him earlier in his career

perhaps there would be more to you than

one black line, continuous and thin

 “Garçon avec un chien”

must have made you howl

with jealousy.

Perhaps that’s why it’s rumored

you developed a taste for canvas and so

became le chien qui a mangé un Picasso?



Just having a little fun with a poetry prompt from TS Poetry, where they are talking dogs this month.






she holds them, cupped in dirty hands

raised up to the light

palmsful of blossoms, fuschia spilling over

and the scent of honey, of myrrh.

how can it be, she asks

that this treasure grew

from that tangle of thorns?

i put them in water, cut-glass winks in

filtered sun

touching velvet petals, fingers trembling

i remember other treasure

the roots of which twine in painful thorns

how beautiful, that which is born

in bitter, piercing weeds