Dash Poem by Andrew Nawroski


First a world all mine
Eating odours
With astronomers eyes
I could touch horizons
My paws where giant
That crowned my head
Striding puppy legionary
Across forbidden fruits

7 Days 7 nights.

My belly stung
Hung like sacked bricks
From ribs of dried wood
On grating claws
And cracked paws
I searched for earlier delights
In places you only visit
When dead

For to long
Nothing but stanched cud
And chewed granite
Lifting me up
On dark hills
Seeing human speech
I sensed what it meant
So nice you appear.


Trying to show people
Where I had been
All to far
No one could see me
Wanting to say
I no what you mean
When you speak
I just whimpered

Weeping silently
Trotting close
To speeding metal
Wildly Entranced
On coloured hum’s
Drawn to the other side
Needing to walk through
All speeding breeze

12 days 13th night

Night became
Lighter than day
When pain took hold
And sleep lasted
For nothing
The cud tasted better at night
I would just swallow
Then be off
Over hill and dale
As sky grew lighter
The hum would drive me down
To the road
Running on cracked blisters
Seeing the coloured hums
Demented and wretched


I came to a new place
Where all coloured hums collected
Near a big building
I sniffed its walls
And dashed through moving doors
Running through towering racks of food
I wagged my tail
At shouting people
And ran amongst isles
Stopping to wet
Like God making rain

People shouted louder
I was grabbed
From behind
Around my neck
And taken
To a small room
Unable to be still
Needing to be amongst rotten cud

They took me away
In a coloured metal hum
I became conditioned
And forgot how they spoke
All memories erased
Of metal colours
And giant nights
But maybe soon
Ill be off again
With giants paws.

Written after rescue of a stray spaniel trying to eat food out of my basket in Spa mini mart at Caerleon Wales UK.

Sandra Dodd 15 January 2010

Amazing where inspiration comes from. Some times from something someone says, or the glance of an ear in a rear view mirror, or like your surprising moment. I guess part of poetry is aying attention when you are not writing.

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James Mclain 10 January 2010

I enjoyed it...muchly...iip

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Andrew Nawroski

Andrew Nawroski

Belper Derbyshire
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