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by Scott Sjostrand

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by Melvin Brinkley

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by Daniel Adjei

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by Richard Wangard

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by John Muza

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by Kwame Toshambe

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LUCKY THE DOG AND ME

By Vivian Hath, Army

Writing Type: Poem

Lucky was just a brown dog
Of no certain pedigree,
No one owned a dog
That was more faithful than Lucky was to me.
We roamed the hil1s and woodlands together
Through the inclement weather and deep snow;
Lucky was always ready
When I told him to the woodlands we would go.
I know he would have been satisfied
To live in the woodlands and in some giant ho1low tree,
And lay on the cold, cold ground
Just to be close to n1e.
Lucky and I understood each other~
He had almost human sense.
I know he never saw me as hip-hop or master,
Always his daring prince.
Lucky was a master at trailing a rabbit -
He could set a wild quail;
He always let me know when wild game was close
By the fast motion at the end of his tail.
I shot a fast-flying duck;
His momentum carried him a little further beyond
The duck fell into the ice cold water
About 30 feet out into the pond.
l said, ""Go get him, boy.""
He obeyed my command,
Jumped in that ice cold water
And swam with him - back to land.
Lucky was dripping wet with ice cold water,
He was wet as he could be;
And I vowed no man had money enough to buy
This dog from me.
Lucky and I happened in the 1800s
When with hard work and a little pay,
A man with a large family
Was fortunate to make 7 5 cents a day.
The older boys of such a family
They loved the woodland, too,
They learned how to trap and hunt wild game
That helped out immensely with the family menu.
Hot biscuits, fried rabbit, brown gravy
Were special treats;
Old timers depended largely on wild game
For their source for meat.
Lucky and I hunted rabbit for the market;
We bagged four or five each evening after school.
I'd dress them out neatly
And hang them up to freeze and cool.
Early Saturday morning, I'd take my rabbits into town,
Up and down the streets,
I didn't get much money for them,
Just $4.25 a piece.
This business of hunting rabbits for the 1narket
Was my pot of gold,
But it all ended abruptly
When n1y dog had grown too old.
I knew I was going to lose him, as he was growing
more weak by the day;
I often went in the work shed to cheer hills up,
and on his bed he lay.
I said, ""Let's go get him, boy.""
He struggled to raise his weakly head;
He kissed my hand and laid back down
And soon my dog was dead.
It had been 80-plus years since I lost my dog
Many changes have taken place since then.
All my youth is gone;
The days are long and my body is full of pain.
I woke one morning early
And fate had been unkind,
I knew something was radically wrong
The doctor said I was blind.
Man, I can't live forever
But for my friends close and across the sea,
I want to be remembered as a good friend and neighbor,
Just as my dog thought of me.

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by Frank Mattson

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by Melvin Brinkley

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by Tony Craidon

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by John Bradley

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by Richard Wangard

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by Richard Wangard

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