Author: Jeff Shapiro

I can always manage a wag of my tail…
It is the positive alternative to sadness…
People can say hurtful things…
But seldom when my tail is swishing.

There are two worlds here…
Sometimes a wag of a tail is the link between them…
It seems the one thing that unplugs all the turmoil…
I have no clue, why.

I often think of the world’s greatest lie…
That our lives are controlled by fate…
I can wag my tail whenever I like…
And poof! My circumstances change.

This should not be a stranger to you…
You know what a difference soft words, a smile, a gentle wag makes…
It is like giving others a glimpse into a store front window…
Do not worry, there is always something beautiful inside.

A wag or a smile makes everything look precious…
I call it the third and best way…
Numbers one and two are much too serious…
Number three is fun and playful.

I love you,

Annie

If I could author a book…
It would have a touch of something else…
The main character would be floating in a lake filled with flowering lilies…
Always filling their cup from a waterfall.

People would wonder, “How did a pup learn to write like that?”
As they look at the book from all sides…
Thumbing the pages from front to back…
Mesmerized by the passion and grit.

The story would spill out in all the directions…
The only world I know…
I think I would make myself an action hero…
With 8 pack abs.

I would make humans less judgmental…
Because everyone seems to know how others should live…
I am not sure if that is what our Creator intended…
So, I will fix it with a pen stroke.

I would remind the reader that they are in perfect hands…
That they should try everyday to find a new friend…
That they should worry less and play more…
You know, kind of like the poems I send you everyday.

Hey, I can write a book!

I love you,

Annie

It may look like an unsolvable knot…
Something you cannot undo by yourself…
Thinking, “I’ll let the smart people figure it out…”
Yet only you can understand the language of your soul.

I can understand this language…
For me, it is doused with color…
A remarkably simple set of verses…
The simple things being the most extraordinary.

I always follow the same rule…
I watch how an infant communicates with his/herself…
It may sound like an incoherent gypsy prayer…
But if a young child says something, it exists.

How do I know this is the way, I feel it…
I look forward to the unexpected…
Crazy, crazy, so irrational…
Who ever told you that God was rational?

So, let’s put on matching costumes…
Stop running away from the truth that scares us…
Together, let’s find the spirituality within ourselves…
And listen to our souls.

I love you,

Annie

There is only so far I can go up my everyday mountain…
So, I’m going on a pilgrimage…
They say that a pilgrimage is praying with your feet…
For me, it is the possibility that a dream can come true.

I am going to find who put me here…
Chew on thousands of years of ancestry…
I brought a little extra oil for my squeaky bones…
And some extra biscuits for the way back home.

My eyes are fixed straight ahead…
Into the shape-shifting patterns of glow…
I feel more alive than the rest of the world…
Like a Christmas day puppy.

There is a new road everyday…
As I lean closer and closer to the mother of it all…
Walking toward that still, beautiful face…
This is it! There She is, waiting in the here and now.

Come, join the gentle chorus…
Lay down your phone, turn off the television…
I have brought you some extra oil for your squeaky bones…
And some extra biscuits for your way back home.

I love you,

Annie

You don’t need to become someone else to be happy…
Or be an actor traveling from theater to theater…
Or put a smiley, yellow sticker on your forehead…
Or dwell on the past, thinking it was so much better than now.

What if where you are now is the best?
That yours is a star filled, speckled sky…

How do I know?

Your friendly eyes tell me all of this…
When you smile, it is like the sun dancing on the water.

Change happens backstage…
The time of day when you can reflect and rest…
Breathing that awesome spirt into your lungs…
And pushing away all those unwanted feelings.

I’m sensing that you are thinking, “You are kidding, right…”
I’m not the kind for meditation, poems, and such…
I rely on the feelings in my gut, my natural instincts…
I answer, yes, but there is also another level.

Come, let’s explore a new place in your world…
Pull sorrow from every ruck and tuck…
Stay in the center of who you are…
The world needs the real you.

I love you,

Annie

My sniffs are impartial to man or beast…
Each walk I find the most unusual scents…
Ah…the pee from the pup with the raven hair…
If I knew all those hidden ingredients, I would bottle it and make a fortune.

I will always know your smell…
Whether pleasant or stinky, perfumed, or sweaty…
You really have only one smell deep within you…
And it is locked within my registry forever and ever.

Sniffs are what guide my carefree wandering…
They most often tell a tale…
Ah… a foresniff of a coming banquet…
I think it is some kind of invitation.

I’m always sniffing for that magical potion…
The one that will lengthen my legs…
My nose drooping to ground like a crepe…
Finding many things, but my legs are still the same.

I’m sorry you can’t sniff like me…
It might cure what ails you…
Yet, you have other senses I do not have…
You have awareness that can always move you in the direction of the sun.

I love you,

Annie

I often feel sorry for humans…
A magical, confused contradiction…
Awakening before your dreams end…
Yet, a mysterious energy binds your lives together.

The life of a pup is quite different…
Two days are never the same…
We are explorers, adventurers, eaters of mysterious things…
Often spending hours focusing on nothing and thinking “hmmm, should I eat, pee, or poo?”

Come, I can teach you the ways of a pup…
Just bring an open heart and a journal…
Be aware, that at any point, anything might happen…
The day will guide us into comprehension.

First, you need to start reading thinner books…
Filled with pictures of costumes, magic, and laughter…
Then close your eyes to preserve the imagery…
And see that everything in this world overlaps.

Can’t you see it?

When you travel, in spite of culture, religion and color, there is a sameness…
Love of family, friends; feelings of warmth toward a newborn babe…
There are no words to describe the magnificent beauty…
Just realize you are woven into it all.

I love you,

Annie

There is a junction on every path…
It forms a decision…
Do I continue to condemn myself with guilt?
Or do I contemplate my own beauty?

Who is better to know this than you?
You have been there so many times…
Knowing so deep in your heart…
That, you are the author and can choose how this book ends.

Each junction is like putting the brakes on time and saying, “Now!”
It is time to dwell on the page you are reading…
Turn off the defense mechanisms…
And be a hero.

I can see it all in the depths of your eyes…
A life that you haven’t yet met…
Sunshine or rain is right around the corner…
You decide which it will be.

I love you,

Annie

I want to become a farm-dog at a one-horse farm…
It would have to have a herd of cows (do cows come in herds?)
I would never lose one as I moved them from pasture to pasture…
An old farmer taught me a trick…
Count all the legs and divide by four.

It is all about being a member of the “never say no” club…
At home with myself…
Yep, hook me up to the hitch and watch me pull…
Right through that fine layer of stinky dust.

On the farm everything is so much clearer…
I can see the warm pink sunset turning into a deeper, darker crimson…
Watch its sparkling flames…
Until the light is turned off and the sky becomes a midnight blue.

Sometimes I get tired of the hustle and bustle of the city…
It is like trying to untie a donut…
The knot has no beginning or end…
Full of con-pups who are always taking advantage of little pups like me.

Don’t you think I would make a good farm dog?
Or do you think it would be like the Pope deciding to become a Mormon?
I do think I could make a home among the butterfly filled branches…
When I finish milking the cows, of course.

I love you!

Annie

My butlers are my pets…
Their names are Jeff and Mary…
I have been training them all my life…
They can do many tricks…
And I don’t even have to give them a biscuit.

They are my actors…
Each day I write them a new play…
I always give it a unique spin…
To see if I can make them glow.

I am always trying to improve my techniques…
I take notes in my speckled notebook…
Transfixed in the adventure of it all…
Wondering how it feels to be my pets.

I hope I am a good master…

It is incredibly humbling to me…
To have such treasures in my little box…
Thinking, “How in the world could I have gotten this lucky?”
It is like having my own barrel of stinky cheese.

I know you now have many questions…
I am sure you have your master too…
I would recommend that you do everything they say…
Or they might turn you loose and get another (I’ve been tempted many times!)

I love you,

Annie