Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Your father didn’t
Like Mr Fudgee

Getting into your
Bed snuggling up

Next to you putting
His nose into your

Ear and he would chase
Mr Fudgee out

Of your room and tell
You off in his deep

Baritone voice for
Allowing him in

Saying don’t let young
Mr Fudgee in

To your bed Alice
It won’t do and off

He'd go in temper
Huffing and puffing

But once he was out
Of earshot and off

Downstairs you would let
Mr Fudgee back

Into your room once
More and he’d get in

The bed and you’d hug
Him and kiss him and

Feel his warmth near you
And against you and

He'd look at you with
His big brown eyes and

You’d stare back at him
And know deep down that

You didn’t ever
Want to be without

Mr Fudgee and
Remembered clearly

How yesterday while
You sat in the big

Old chair in the hall
Mr Fudgee came

And sat on your lap
And began kissing

Your arm and face and
Eyelids and Father

Took him off by the
Scruff of his neck and

Saying remember
Your place in this house

Mr Fudgee don’t
Sit on Alice’s

Little lap and lick
And nuzzle your nose

Into her neck and
Off Mr Fudgee

Went looking back all
Sad and forlorn and

You gave him a small
Wave and blew him a

Kiss from your small palm
Which flew far beyond

Father’s reach and touched
Mr Fudgee’s nose

Invisibly as
None but you and your

Dog Mr Fudgee
Could know feel or see.

What a wonderful way to capture the unconditional love between child and dog. I really enjoyed this. Thank you.

i have been reading your poems,
about children but not just maybe
poetry to me is always about childhoods
one way or the other, Rimbaud said "I am another"
the ones that exist on the art of great painters
I recall reading about a painting that used perspective
that a famous French philosopher used to
show some development in the mind of artists
there was a child in the painting along with other objects
about childhoods of man, so strange to contemplate now
and the ones that get stolen away, if i could find
that innocence it would have to invoke
a childhood of poets, and there would be
perhaps not so from the child's point of view
yet it would come through the words anyway, like
playing peek a boo.

to write poetry like this, Loving Mr Fudgee
the poet is playing with delicate things
and one off color line could kick the whole
thing into another realm, not easy to
keep that delicate balance, methinks.

oh then there are the sexy poems

oh and that reminds me of a story
about the word fudgee


A man is a god in ruins. When men are innocent, life shall be longer, and shall pass into the immortal, as gently as we awake from dreams.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

oh and that reminds me of a story
about the word fudgee
revolutionrabbit hilarious response.

dadio, Mr Fudgee gave me a Rockwellee feel. Thanks for sharing it.
(that's what she said)

Sweet. Loving and lovely. You must be in a Christmas mood. This is a lighthearted poem about a tender and touching topic. Thank you for brightening up my little corner of the world with these words.

Thank you all for reading & comments.

This one touched a response chord. I have been reading your poetry posts and enjoying -- including Mr. Fudgee. I like cats more than dogs 'cause dogs insist on Frenchkissing.

The Duke of Wellington

His pedigree said "Duke"
but that was not sufficiently royal for me.
From the beginning his wee poodle self
became that special Duke,
you know, the Waterloo guy.
So everyone called him "Willy"
the "W-E" compbination
being beyond the Spanish language.

Oh, will -- uh, I mean, Oh, well.

He slept with me and Mistinget the cat
and with their furry selves I was toasty warm in winter
and warmer (ever so much warmer)
in summer.
I could not, however, forgive him
for catching me off guard
with a doggy french kiss
just when I had my mouth open speaking.

Alice, being young and innocent,
could ignore and adore doggy kisses.
I prefer a cat kneading my neck relentlessly --
but I still remember the Duke.
On occasion.

Sue L.

Thank you, Sue.