Shadow Commemoration Day Twenty One

There will be no new blog post on M. Sakran’s blog of and about poetry and poetry related things tomorrow April 29, 2016.

April 30, 2016 is Shadow’s birthday.  He would have been eight years old.  Since there will be no new blog post on the 29th, and there normally would not have been a new one on the 30th, and, it seems better to commemorate Shadow’s birthday early rather than late, his birthday will be commemorated in this post.

Happy Birthday Shadow.

The small little lion,
lived for seven years,
eleven months,
one week,
and two days.

and occasionally scampering.

At first sight,
he was just a little puff,
cute and small,
and so much like a toy bear.

How could anyone,
have given him away?

Two thousand,
nine hundred,
of happiness,
and play,
and fun,
and life.
Just two thousand, nine hundred days.

He’s gotten presents,
over the days,
corned beef (his favorite),
raw hide,
chew toys,
and treats.
This year,
his best friend,
will get them.

This year,
already a special day,
there will be moments,
and pauses,
and maybe a walk,
where he used to go.
Looking around,
thinking of memories,
wondering why,
he doesn’t come,
when the trash is taken out.

Happy birthday little lion.
Know there are thoughts of you,
and you are loved.

Happy birthday Shadow.

Shadow Commemoration Day Twenty

There’s a difficulty in the imagination,
no …
something happy,
this is a commemoration

a bright face,
floppy ears,
a black tongue,
a lion’s mane of fur,
a list that could go,
for pages and pages

almost eight years,
only forty days,
only words,
and pictures,

it will never fill.

Shadow Commemoration Day Nineteen

There are moments that pass,
instances of simplicity,
where small thoughts,
and little glimpses,
of the past appear.

In a way,
they are felt,
they are seen in an instant,
but not quickly,
like looking over,
a whole landscape.

There by the slate,
there by the steel,
there by the wood,
the life is missing,
yet somehow is felt.

A thought occurs,
as time flows,
these feelings stop.

Shadow Commemoration Day Eighteen

So far in this commemoration, there have been a blending of tones.  Some of the posts have had a sad tone and some have been a little brighter.  In some ways, it has been a balance.  When thinking of Shadow, there is a mixture of sadness that he is gone, and happiness at the dog he was.

In terms of poetry, as posts on this blog generally relate to, this idea of balancing emotions can be applied to writing poems.

There are many instances in life where emotions are blended, the death of a pet like Shadow being a very good example.  These moments are sad, but at times, when thinking back, there can be moments of happiness.  Other instances in life have a different blend of emotions.  This general idea of blending emotions can be applied to poetry.

Here is a poem about Shadow.  It blends the emotions of sadness and happiness and also blends the forms of blank verse (for the sad part) and rhyming iambic tetrameter (for the happier part).

A shadow is upon an empty home,
where once a Shadow dwelt with joy and life,
at times when once his life it could be felt,
right now a shadow can’t be held at all.

Yet there in thoughts a light does shine,
when in the mind his joy is felt,
the shadow moves behind the line,
and in the heart the pain does melt.

Shadow Commemoration Day Fifteen


Above is an artwork of Shadow.  It was made using charcoal followed by alteration with a computer.  Charcoal seemed an appropriate medium, and the blue hue seemed fitting.  Like other artworks on this blog, this one can inspire poetry.


As a note, this is the 500th blog post on this blog.  Also, April 24th, 2016, will be the two year anniversary of this blog.  Each of these events would have normally have had a post for them, however, at this time, they will not.

Shadow Commemoration Day Thirteen

One of the strangest things, is switching from the plural to the singular.  To go from ‘dogs’ to saying ‘dog’.  To go from saying, ‘Shadow and Unter’ to felling that stutter in the speech and saying ‘Unter’ alone.  There’s that moment before the walk, where instead of putting a harness on one dog and then on another, there is only one.  There’s that moment, walking down the street, where there’s only one leash.  There’s walking outside, with only one treat.  There’s filling only one dog bowl with food.  There’s more like this.  One of the strangest things, is switching from the plural to the singular.

two white flower blooms,
up high in a dogwood tree,
winds blow one away


P.S.  As a note, M. Sakran has recently had a poem published by Forge JournalForge Journal can be found here: Forge Journal.  The poem can found here: poem.

Shadow Commemoration Day Twelve

As the rain falls,
and waters rise,
there’s thoughts of Shadow,
poor Shadow,
in the ground,
with the water around him.

In the ground.

He needs help,
he needs comfort,
he need something,
the thought is hard,
these words are hard,
but there is poor Shadow,

There’s sadness,
in these words,
there’s a sense,
that can’t be expressed,
there’s a fog,
between what this is like,
and what it may seem.

Poor Shadow.

Shadow Commemoration Day Eleven

There’s something about trying to summarize a life.  It’s like trying to take everything about a life and put it in a box.  Some place, that could be opened, and looked inside, and everything about the life could be seen.

That’s what it’s like now, as Shadow’s life is commemorated.  Things he had, like his collar and hedgehog toy, were put in a box.  Photographs were gathered, and are in an album.  Memories about him were written.  It’s almost as if, that if this wasn’t done, something about him might be forgotten or the memory might change.  It’s like trying to hold on.  There’s fear the image will dissolve.  Here’s a poem about this:

Right now,
you can be imagined,
your nose,
against the window screen,
your running,
in the grass,
your little excited hop,
and that cute play bow.

All of this,
is in a bottle,
and it’s trying to be poured,
into another,
with none of it spilling,
and none of it,
being left behind.

What if something was left?
What was that something like?
What was the sound,
the smell,
the feel?

How did you dig around the plant?
How did you kick your feet?
Will everything be remembered?
Will everything be documented?
Is this even the way?

Right now,
one bottle,
is being poured,
into another.

it will work out.

Shadow Commemoration Day Eight

Shadow with his best friend

Today is one week since Shadow died.  Rather than have something sad or something that tries, but most likely fails, to be profound, here instead is something happy.

Above is a picture of Shadow with his best friend.  Both dogs seem to be distracted by a held treat.  Shadow looks as if he is ready to jump toward it.  Both dogs are very cute.

In terms of poetry, maybe this photograph can inspire people to write poems about friendship.