~ meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world ~    [Author's Home Page!]
  320926   Poems Read   


[Poetry PoetryPoem] [Poetry Search] [Contact Us] [FREE Site] [Home] [Poets] [Login]


The Hoping

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Night Train

Nameless



wandering the rolling hills ...(written for his model)

All The Changing....

HOME

Lonesome Love

two out of three people

A Start Again...(I Green-Dreamed Again Last Night)

The Little Bird Said

cat speech

Funny, Not Funny

All You Have To Do Is Breathe....

Different

A Dog Should Have His Tail...

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Checking Out

Devious

Hope Is Sometimes The Best Of All You've Got (definition poem)

Last Night

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Crows...writing exercise in honor of April /National Poetry month

Words

Only The Choice To Be

When People Go

The Day You Left (Words From A Half-Remembered Dream)

Wake Wake Wake

It Is In The Rain

Dream Goblins Of The Night

Wake And Remember

More Poetry >>

Git Along....

Who do they think we are
and what have they done thus far
except make us dogs,
not allowing that a dog has his day or even afternoon?
Sometimes we're barely keeping ahead
the lines that wait for bread
are getting longer
as their wallets fatten
and they smile
but always behind a well-placed hand.
Ain't life grand
and the very rich say they can only make it better
but they neglect to describe
the drought conditions or bad weather
and that their main concern is
for themselves.
They'd keep a pet better than ourselves.


I can hear their too familiar refrain
driving us below them, not noticing our strain
as we plod our final miles:


"Whoopee tie yie yo, git along little doggies
its your misfortune and none of my own.
Whoopee tie yie yo, git along little doggies..." **

We don't care how you fare, we will own your home.
(snickery snickery snick)

They like whooping and yelling and driving us doggies...
and unless we wake up, we'll keep plodding along..
we'll have little left to call our "own."


With brains are made of money; for us they'd go a huntin'.
Their hearts pump warm blood, but are fed by cold stone.


** refers to a poem about cow-punchers or cowboys driving
doggies which refers to cattle. There is also a deliberate
double-entendre and intentional irony, for those noticing.


Copyright August 13, 2012 All Rights Reserved By Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo from her Tilt-a-World





Vote for this poem

Git Along....


Comments

 

Email Poem


©2000 - 2019 ------- Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors

Sign Guestbook Read Guestbook

   Tell someone about this Poem.    blank

[ Control Panel ]
Last 100 Poems

Search over
400,000 poems!