Bennie Got His Bone



Bennie was found in an alley alone
Trying to guard an old chewed up bone
He growled at the world, as it closed in on him
He fought with the rope... but he didn't win
Hauled to the-pound and labeled 'aggressive'
Sentenced to death, for being 'possessive'.

Now thrown behind bars, in.his new concrete home
Behind a curtain, in the 'Bad Dog' zone
All he wanted was his old chewed-up bone
My heart went limp when I saw him alone.
A scarred-up Pit bull, with an ear-to-ear-grin
Being a Pit bull here,  is the ultimate sin

Reading his chart I could see right away
He was protecting the bone, they had taken away
He was found in an alley, Afraid and alone
Apparently Bennie didn't have a home.
And there was something about that ear-to-ear grin
He gave me a smile that welcomed me in.

And while other dogs got to dance and play, mingle with people
He was hidden away. And when his time came, all they would say is...
"He was found in an alley, just another stray...
He fit the description , so we followed the rule...
No room in this world for another Pit-bull"

Thursdays come as Wednesday goes
Just another number, and a dog no one knows
Sentenced to death, for protecting his bone. I wouldn't let Bennie die all alone.
I came Thursday morning, with a big meaty bone
And a sad little promise, to make my heart his new home.

And somewhere on the far side, of that bright, Rainbow Bridge
Bennie stands alone on the edge of a ridge
Strong and smiling...never alone
Where he's dancing and playing, with an old chewed-up bone...

I think Bennie loves, his new chewed-up bone.

About this poem

'Kill Shelters' are not very friendly toward Pit-bulls...at least where I live. They're often hidden from view and slated for death.

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Written on October 15, 2022

Submitted by lovingempath on October 16, 2022

Modified on April 14, 2023

1:33 min read
68

Quick analysis:

Scheme AAXBCC DAAABB EEADBB XXEXX FFAAD GGAA A
Closest metre Iambic hexameter
Characters 1,569
Words 306
Stanzas 7
Stanza Lengths 6, 6, 6, 5, 5, 4, 1

Robin Loving

Sometimes the words flow like a murder of crows. They've held my secrets for the past 65-years. And sometimes they repeat them back to me, and laugh. more…

All Robin Loving poems | Robin Loving Books

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