Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Cat Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Cat poems. This is a select list of the best famous Cat poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Cat poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of cat poems.

Search for the best famous Cat poems, articles about Cat poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Cat poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also: Best Member Poems

Go Back

by Sylvia Plath | |

Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival.
New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness Shadows our safety.
We stand round blankly as walls.
I'm no more your mother Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow Effacement at the wind's hand.
All night your moth-breath Flickers among the flat pink roses.
I wake to listen: A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's.
The window square Whitens and swallows its dull stars.
And now you try Your handful of notes; The clear vowels rise like balloons.
(1961)


by William Henry Davies | |

The Moon

 The moon has a face like the clock in the hall; 
She shines on thieves on the garden wall, 
On streets and fields and harbour quays, 
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.
The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, The howling dog by the door of the house, The bat that lies in bed at noon, All love to be out by the light of the moon.
But all of the things that belong to the day Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way; And flowers and children close their eyes Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.


by Edwin Arlington Robinson | |

The Tree In Pamelas Garden

 Pamela was too gentle to deceive 
Her roses.
"Let the men stay where they are," She said, "and if Apollo's avatar Be one of them, I shall not have to grieve.
" And so she made all Tilbury Town believe She sighed a little more for the North Star Than over men, and only in so far As she was in a garden was like Eve.
Her neighbors—doing all that neighbors can To make romance of reticence meanwhile— Seeing that she had never loved a man, Wished Pamela had a cat, or a small bird, And only would have wondered at her smile Could they have seen that she had overheard.


by Edwin Arlington Robinson | |

New England

 Here where the wind is always north-north-east
And children learn to walk on frozen toes,
Wonder begets an envy of all those
Who boil elsewhere with such a lyric yeast
Of love that you will hear them at a feast
Where demons would appeal for some repose,
Still clamoring where the chalice overflows
And crying wildest who have drunk the least.
Passion is here a soilure of the wits, We're told, and Love a cross for them to bear; Joy shivers in the corner where she knits And Conscience always has the rocking-chair, Cheerful as when she tortured into fits The first cat that was ever killed by Care.


by Lucy Maud Montgomery | |

In Memory of Maggie

 A pussy-cat who was the household pet for seventeen years.
Naught but a little cat, you say; Yet we remember her, A creature loving, loyal, kind, With merry, mellow purr; The faithful friend of many years, Shall we not give her meed of tears? Sleek-suited in her velvet coat, White-breasted and bright-eyed, Feeling when she was praised and stroked A very human pride; A quiet nook was sure to please Where she might take her cushioned ease.
Little gray friend, we shall not feel Ashamed to grieve for you; Many we know of human-kind Are not so fond and true; Dear puss, in all the years to be We'll keep your memory loyally.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe | |

CAT-PIE.

 WHILE he is mark'd by vision clear

Who fathoms Nature's treasures,
The man may follow, void of fear,

Who her proportions measures.
Though for one mortal, it is true, These trades may both be fitted, Yet, that the things themselves are two Must always be admitted.
Once on a time there lived a cook Whose skill was past disputing, Who in his head a fancy took To try his luck at shooting.
So, gun in hand, he sought a spot Where stores of game were breeding, And there ere long a cat he shot That on young birds was feeding.
This cat he fancied was a hare, Forming a judgment hasty, So served it up for people's fare, Well-spiced and in a pasty.
Yet many a guest with wrath was fill'd (All who had noses tender): The cat that's by the sportsman kill'd No cook a hare can render.
1810.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe | |

GIPSY SONG.

 IN the drizzling mist, with the snow high-pil'd,
In the Winter night, in the forest wild,
I heard the wolves with their ravenous howl,
I heard the screaming note of the owl:

Wille wau wau wau!


Wille wo wo wo!

Wito 
hu!

I shot, one day, a cat in a ditch--
The dear black cat of Anna the witch;
Upon me, at night, seven were-wolves came down,
Seven women they were, from out of the town.
Wille wau wau wau! Wille wo wo wo! Wito hu! I knew them all; ay, I knew them straight; First, Anna, then Ursula, Eve, and Kate, And Barbara, Lizzy, and Bet as well; And forming a ring, they began to yell: Wille wau wau wau! Wille wo wo wo! Wito hu! Then call'd I their names with angry threat: "What wouldst thou, Anna? What wouldst thou, Bet?" At hearing my voice, themselves they shook, And howling and yelling, to flight they took.
Wille wau wau wau! Wille wo wo wo! Wito hu! 1772.


by A S J Tessimond | |

Quickstep

 Acknowledge the drum's whisper.
Yield to its velvet Nudge.
Cut a slow air- Curve.
Then dip (hip to hip): Sway, swing, pedantically Poise.
Now recover, Converting the coda To prelude of sway-swing- Recover.
Acknowledge The drum-crack's alacrity - Acrid exactitude - Catch it, then slacken, Then catch as cat catches Rat.
Trace your graph: Loop, ellipse.
Skirt an air-wall To bend it and break it - Thus - so - As the drum speaks!


by J R R Tolkien | |

Cat

 The fat cat on the mat
may seem to dream
of nice mice that suffice
for him, or cream;
but he free, maybe,
walks in thought
unbowed, proud, where loud
roared and fought
his kin, lean and slim,
or deep in den
in the East feasted on beasts
and tender men.
The giant lion with iron claw in paw, and huge ruthless tooth in gory jaw; the pard dark-starred, fleet upon feet, that oft soft from aloft leaps upon his meat where woods loom in gloom -- far now they be, fierce and free, and tamed is he; but fat cat on the mat kept as a pet he does not forget.


by Ellis Parker Butler | |

Womanly Qualms

 When I go rowing on the lake,
 I long to be a man;
I’ll give my Sunday frock to have
 A callous heart like Dan.
I love the ripple of the waves When gliding o’er the deep, But when I see the cruel ours, I close my eyes and weep; For there are cat-fish in our lake, And I am filled with dread, Lest Don should strike a pussy-fish Upon its tender head.
How would you like it if, some day An air-ship passing by, Should flap its cruel, thoughtless oars And knock you in the eye? My life would be one long regret If, for my pleasure vain, I caused a harmless little fish An hour of needless pain.
And if Dan’s heavy oars should cause One little fish to die, I’d never, never dare to look Smoked herring in the eye!


by James Lee Jobe | |

WHAT I DID IN THE MOONLIGHT

 I planted my grief
in freshly turned earth
A tree grows there now
You should see the size of it

I filled my wheel-barrow
with all my pointless regrets
I put them out by the curb
A truck will pick them up on Thursday

I spent some time following my cat
She led me all around our yard
stopping to rub her face in mint
I rubbed my face in mint, too

The moon shone on and on 
climbing higher above the park across the street
"Who can stay awake longer?" I asked her
as she began her long arc back down


by | |

The Death of the Hindu

Chin cupped
on the ancient bone of his
elbow
he spread five fingers
to the world:
and like a cat on zither strings
the hoarse voice of his fathers
issues from his forgotten children:
now he picks one tick
from the back of that suckling cow:
his failing fingers
find not the strength
to crush

Not a single eyelash twitters
pass him by
pass him

'Wake not a man asleep
And tell him he has
Nothing to eat.
'


by | |

Abc

 

Great A, little a,
  Bouncing B!
The cat's in the cupboard,
  And can't see me.


by | |

Dame Trot And Her Cat


Dame Trot and her cat
  Led a peaceable life,
When they were not troubled
  With other folks' strife.

When Dame had her dinner
  Pussy would wait,
And was sure to receive
  A nice piece from her plate.


by | |

Ding, Dong, Bell


Ding, dong, bell,
Pussy's in the well!
Who put her in?
Little Tommy Lin.

Who pulled her out?
Little Johnny Stout.
What a naughty boy was that,
To try to drown poor pussy-cat.
Who never did him any harm,
But killed the mice in his father's barn!


by | |

Going To St. Ives


As I was going to St.
Ives
I met a man with seven wives.
Every wife had seven sacks,
Every sack had seven cats,
Every cat had seven kits.
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were going to St.
Ives?


by | |

Pussy-Cat And Queen


"Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
    Where have you been?"
"I've been to London
    To look at the Queen.
"
"Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
    What did you there?"
"I frightened a little mouse
    Under the chair.
"


by | |

Pussy-Cat And The Dumplings


Pussy-cat ate the dumplings, the dumplings,
    Pussy-cat ate the dumplings.
Mamma stood by, and cried, "Oh, fie!
    Why did you eat the dumplings?"


by | |

Pussy-Cat By The Fire


Pussy-cat sits by the fire;
    How can she be fair?
In walks the little dog;
    Says: "Pussy, are you there?
How do you do, Mistress Pussy?
    Mistress Pussy, how d'ye do?"
"I thank you kindly, little dog,
    I fare as well as you!"


by | |

Pussy-Cat Mew


Pussy-cat Mew jumped over a coal,
And in her best petticoat burnt a great hole.
Poor Pussy's weeping, she'll have no more milk
Until her best petticoat's mended with silk.