I love my cat.
She has 4 legs
and a tail
and nice ears
and a cute little nose.
She is gray with black stripes.
Her eyes are kinda green
I don't know what colour this is?
Her name is Bast.
This is the name of a very pretty cat goddess
who lives where the pyramids grew.
When my cat is happy she purrs.
So do I.
My cat is soft and warm.
My cat likes to eat food.
Right now I am feeding her special food for young cats.
She likes this better than the last stuff.
She eats all day long.
I do too.
If I become fat
or she becomes fat
I will cut down on our food.
My cat also likes to drink water.
So do I.
I got rid of her cat bowls.
Now she uses the same bowls I do.
I think this makes her feel extra special.
When my cat wants to play outside
she meows and scratches at the door.
This is how I know if she wants to play outside.
My cat poops in the neighbour's yard
so I don't have to clean her litter box too much.
I love my cat.
If I was a cat I would marry her.
We could have a honeymoon in the park.
I would dance around
and watch her climb trees.
At night my cat sleeps on top of me.
If she moves around too much
she wakes me up.
This makes me mad.
But she doesn't care.
She just looks at me.
And looks at me.
Then waits for me to fall back asleep
so she can sleep on top of me some more.
But I still love my cat.
Even if she makes me mad sometimes.
But only now and then.
She creates far more happiness than anger.
I suppose this is how it is for some married couples?
Cats are great.
I wish more people had a cat like mine
because then everyone else would be happy just like me.
One great big happy world
filled with peaceful thoughts instead of so much pain and war.
I hope she lives a long time.
When she dies I will get another cat
because they are so nice.
And when I die
I will meet all of my cats
up in heaven.
I love my cat.
And she loves me.
You walk through my thoughts
With the same sure-footed command
You walked through the house.
Your pitter-patter of feet
Pounds like a drum in my head.
No bowl in your special corner...
You thrive on the meat of my mind.
No wrinkles on my bed
Where your purring body slept...
Just my heart, crumpled
By the weight of your absence.
That flashed warmth like a smile
Now bring hot tears
To my eyes in remembrance.
My lap is empty and cold...
It cannot hold memories
Full and warm,
Alive with your image
And the comfort you were.
You walk through my thoughts...
And the pain of your footprints will pass.
© Sandra M. Haight 2014
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Animal Poem
Sponsor: Regina Riddle: Judged 9/30/2014
By Carolyn Devonshire
casting my line from a rock jetty
sad, high-pitch cry I hear
glance around, see no one
cast again but the cry echoes
as if reverberating in the rocks
fishing pole I lay down
now searching every crevice
suddenly a wee feline springs forth
mewing alone atop the stone
from where she emerged, I look down
a litter of six cradled by their mama
so thin the mother cat appears
no food nearby and tears fill my eyes
return to my cooler, retrieving three trout
place them in the cranny
mama cat meows softly
no thanks were needed
feeding frenzy begins for the kittens
mama cat remains still, but purrs
providing nourishment for her clan
more important than feeding herself
wish the brotherhood of man could learn from mama cat
cries of hunger go unheard
*Entry for Michael’s “Sounds of a Cry” contest
Based on a true experience
the rain fell
dogs and cats
was late in coming
rolled over in bed
until a red
long haired cat
on my head
and my face
then a stray
mangy yellow dog
decided to play
chased Fred away
and decided to stay
his body heat
and I rolled over in bed
until a cool fat black cat
outside to the riverbank
Frank the cool fat black cat
started to scat
at the top of his range
at the edge of my bed
to my head
then Yellow and Fred
with guitar and bass
and played backup
while I played the bed
to save face
it was all
until my neighbors
who didn’t like our chops
banged a different tune
on the wall
and called the cops
they broke down
and took away us four
along with our instruments
less the bed of course
into a paddy wagon
it was in a cell
with a cot
that we realized that we were hot
and started our prison band called
me two cats and a mangy dog
You are a cat so cuddle like there's no tomorrow.
Sleep like no one is watching.
Purr like you're the King.
Stare as if you rule the world!
PS: This poem is dedicated for my cat Mingtos.
Lurching yet graceful ,the old black cat sets off.
Slowly he circles the edges of the garden in joy.
In the car ,though still in a shut basket,
He always knew when we came to the turning of the road.
Was it the cherry trees in blossom,a scent
Or something we could never be aware of?
I would open his basket in the car.
He comes out and descends so carefully
Onto the pavement,then tries to bound up the path,
The long wooded back garden is his total joy.
He would sit watching tiny frogs in a deep pond in the sun.
No doubt he longed to catch one.
He once brought a robin indoors,
The bird was completely unharmed.
Must have been his gift to me
We released it later after its shock had worn off.
Now he can only hobble,
And soon, his thinness warns me, he'll be gone.
No cat has ever loved or will love like this cat,
A rescued, terrified animal.
His eyes say everything to me.
I look into their clear-jewelled greenness
I look into a deep,still glowing sea of light.
The last day,finally, all day,he's on my knee.
And he's gone,just before tea.
Now the garden seems empty.
Love leaves a gap.
Love leaves us bare
Love leaves us stripped.
Yet Love is eternal grace.
A mystery of faith.
At 85, the old lady inches slowly
towards her living room
holding firmly to her walker,
her mind is sharp-as sharp as it's ever
Her legs have become weak
she can no longer see clearly,
any visitors who ring at her door;
nor can she hear them.
Her friends have all passed
leaving her alone,
the last remaining
At 15, the cat sits quietly in
the days of chasing balls and
have long since passed.
Her body aches with arthritis
and her kidneys are failing.
Reaching her chair, the old lady
slowly lowers herself
careful not to fall.
She raises the footrest
and covers her legs with the quilt
she keeps nearby.
Seeing this silent signal
the old cat moves across the room
and, with great effort
jumps into her lap.
The two, having grown old together
settle into the familar comfort
that each has come to know.
A gentle pet on the head,
a grateful purr
they close their eyes.
Poetry drips from cat paws
Out of drowsy sonorous sleep
Through the green slit
Of a blinking eye
That alone shows a profound
Of environment, and world
Creeping up in its fawn colored grass
To pounce from nowhere.
This cat that I cannot surprise
Takes me like play rag
Toy or rat
In its dripping mouth
And I going limp
I have heard the dog moaning too
While she walks above the roof
Looking down with a subtle smile.
The dog curls on the mat
Ignoring the majestic movements
I cannot shake the claws.
Cougar slinking through crevices
Of boulders forgotten by flood
Puma leaping through the fluid light
At the edge of night
Tiger forever burning bright
Lion in the caterpillar stage
There is a story in every rage
Cats cuddly cute unwind
Into vivid sheets, poetry dripping
From their tender paws.
A cat up on a tree.
Watching a dog barking crazy-
At the tree...
The cat laughing
At the helplessness
On the ground.
The cat up on the tree.
A dog on the ground-
Unable to climb-
The cat a witness.
As the floods
Sweep away the dog.
The cat up on the tree.
As the dog is drown
In the water-then,
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A curious drop of orgone dusk; making way to peek amid the curtains...
Hush the breath rising in slivers of delight; a manifold cat crowing
With blood dripping from the vine; candlelight shadows and the clock chimes
Black rubies twined atop pentagon lines; vanilla incantations of silk desires
Parting red lips to stoke this fire; deep the moans bewitching cradle
Resting now the dawn which waits; within her arms love set ablaze...
Nightfalls curious drop of time; beyound the curtains in that sublime
Whereupon her bosom it does lie; casting spells while taking tithes
In this my heart she surely knows; outside the window a proxic cat crows
Aneath blood and blue rubies dripping from the vine; such silk incantations...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
...“My Beautiful Bride's” *
As the mourners had left,the holy showers ceased.
Still, the drops of agony fell on from the eaves of heart.
Then a forlorn crow fluttered its wet wings.
The waif cats always roamed in the yard,
But that dark night, a strange cat prowled to the portico.
Its eyes resembled the father’s, who was cremated hours back.
Moss of home clung on its eyes, but there was no tongue in the cat eyes.
Yet,the silent symbols were so strong.
At either side of the cat eyes, the father and the son stood helplessly.
Later, I heard the mobile barks, which chased the cat to a distant rural crematorium.
And that strange cat never returned.
But its mystery remains still with the urn.
Reflections of imperfections
have shown me a way
that I can move mountains
through my power of faith
even though I can't see him
I know he is real
through the power of prayer
and a Love that I feel
It's growing inside me
like a flower in bloom
shall I reveal my powers
or is it too soon
I am reading the signs
through my darkness I find
a reason for belief in
the light of mankind
that I know shall overcome
the greatest of odds
the Love I seek amazes me
especially through the flaws
because now I am inspired
through the hero's that bring
my throne through the darkness
on which I return on as your King.
The little boy in blue, with shirt of silk
Caused Mary Tuppet to spill her milk
When the cat came in to take a drink
There was a rat stuck in the sink
So the cat ate the rat that was stuck in the sink
When it came to drink the milk that was spilt
In the house the little pigs built
Mrs Hubbard dog chased the cat that ate the rat
That was stuck in the sink when the cat came to drink
the milk that was spilt in the house the little pigs built
Then the big bad wolf bit the dog that chased the cat
that ate the rat that was stuck in the sink when the cat came to drink
the milk that Mary Tuppet spilt in the house the little pigs built
Then a big brown bear chased the big bad wolf that bit the dog that chased
the cat that ate the rat that was stuck in the sink when the cat came to drink
the milk that Mary Tuppet spilt in the house that the little pigs built
I remember the day Trixie died,
Sinbad staring out upon her grave.
No crying, just day after day, homage.
I couldn’t stand seeing the pain,
Nothing I did, petting, holding,
Could bring him away from the grave.
So down to the pet store I drove
Hoping for a partner to please
And found a pair of cuddles, babies
Arms wrapped together in play
One black one orange which should it be?
Orange like Sinbad or black?
But how could I take one from another
Leave another hole, so black and orange
Babies two, drew Sinbad back over
To sleep the peaceful sleep of cuddles
Warmth from another, held like a mother
Or held like a father, Sinbad was mine
Once more we could live in happy cheer
Death deserted from our midst
When the wonder of youth appeared.
I Love the elderly
so full of history
I love my generation
who kept me a mystery
I love the children
who's future, now bright
for I have died for them
to capture the light
for i understand
pain more than ever
once I released it
the anger got better
as it went away from the people
and into my music
without a single
reason to prove it
without a reason
to let Love's light in
I didn't, it found me
and lesser I sin
God and my father
both let me know
it would all be okay
so very long ago
even tho the road
would be full of pricks
even back then I'd tell them
you can all suck my dick.
Oh "darn" where did that cat get to ?
Did you ever have that feeling.
That you keep seeing something.
Just like out of your vision of sight.
That cat will sleep anywhere.
He makes me so darn mad.
You know just like in that movie.
You know that movie "don't you"
The name seems to escape me.
I'll be so late if I don't get a move on.
I really must feed my Tom Cat first.
He is always disappearing somewhere.
I really must go,,, my tea party is waiting.
I do wonder if the twins will be guest hosts.
Maybe he's ran down that rabbit hole again.
He's always playing these sorts of games.
Here you are , I have found you at last.
Silly cat ~ he was hiding under my hat.
1 27 2012 fri,,, 11pm
Poetry Challenge #12 on Temple, on another site, one of the guys always did challenges, this one he put up a pic of Alice looking just behind a curtain. This was my take.
A single horn
From the center of its forehead
Beauty in its essence
Goldie, my peculiar but beloved cat,
has certain affectations --
she prefers, most times, her own society
and shuns her housemates.
But, sometimes, she cuddles
or will join the others
to laze around -- in the living room,
the dining room, a hallway, or
in the kitchen.
An inside cat who, early on,
suffered the indignity of
she asserts her independence
by darting into the front yard
when a door is opened --
and she pointedly ignores
any calls or pleas to come inside.
But when the door shuts
and no one is around, she is fearful,
immediately climbing up into the ash tree.
And there she stays
until I come to coax her down.
She may climb high up
and, finally, shakily manage
a descent to allow me to pick her up
and carry her back inside.
She never leaves the yard
but does enjoy ignoring me
when I am in a hurry.
She will dart about and run
from one side of the yard to the other.
For her, it's only an infrequent game.
And, as my treasured pet,
she certainly deserves to play
while testing the limit
of my affectionate, chagrined
As I sit just looking at the moon.
And I wonder are there others
like me way up there.
I admire the sparkling stars.
That give light to the night .
Sometimes I think I could
reach up and grab one.
Though I know not possible.
So here I sit and admire
this very pretty starry night.
After all, I'm just a cat.
Wed 3pm 7/ 10/ 2013
my desktop has a starry night & cat looking at the moon
Not long before I put down my dirt filled hoe
Into my yard she quietly crept
It’s as though she knew I needed her cheer
She was rust colored and sadly matted cat
Not the most attractive feline I’d ever seen
But she was lonely and hungry, and in need
Of course immediately my Mothering instinct beckoned
She followed me to where I poured some milk for her
Not ever having a cat I didn’t have cat food on hand-
So I opened a can of tuna to her delight
She lapped it up and looked up at me with a smile
The next day there she was waiting and the day after and so on
I had found a friend
So I went out and bought some cats food
She was now mine of at least I thought so
Who could have ever done such a thing?
Leaving her to the streets?
I bought her flea collar and bells to wear
Soon she would just sit on my lounge chair waiting for me
I had to bring her into the house she still looked so frail
One day while she was eating I noticed her choking on her food
It continued so I made an appointment to see the vet
It had to be done anyway after all she was to be mine
While we had our visit and the saddest moment of my life came
The doctor said she had throat cancer and it was advanced
Our friend Tabby didn’t but a few weeks to live
So my husband and I made the pain staking decision
To put her to sleep
Tears poured from every corner of my eyes
“No” was all I screamed inside she had brightened my life
How could someone have left her alone?
The Vet felt the previous owner knew about her condition
They left her to suffer knowing she was so sick
I felt we at least gave her 6 weeks of love and care before she left this place
I will never forget the love and championship this rusty feline gave me
Months later my family and I adopted another cat Tabby showed us-
The greatest love and companionship that animals give you unconditional
We now have two wonderful cats that were adopted
They bring so much to our lives
Cats all around
Playing with the yarn
So cute and pink
There was a bated hush over the arena
people watched the warriors fight the lion
it was a battle royal, much needed was stamina
they could not complete their task without it
Fearful of his power and strength
they fought mightily to overcome him
knowing if he got loose he would attack
ripping them from limb to bloody limb
The crowd gasped in hot excitement
secretly they wanted the lion to break free
they were there for blood, the more the better
just so long as it was not their own
The fight carried on some men mauled
as the lion tugged them close
bleeding they were carried off
more warriors took their place
Cheers go up as the mighty lion is overpowered
legs bound up he roars in frustration
the warriors stand round jeering
one grasps his spear and strikes deep
The lion gives a final defiant roar
as he lies blood pouring out
he starts to shake with shock
as his heart pumps to a stop
The smell of battle sweat and blood
hang heavily in the air intoxicating
the cheers fade to a silent respect
the honor that is paid to a worthy foe
contest Ancient Egypt
Two majestic lords of the African Savannah,
Strike without cautions warning, or roar's announcement.
Nomads, prides outcasts, existing on the fringes edge of
Instinct's primal predators, golden phantoms, shadows
Haunted silhouettes passing in the night, casting eerie images
Against canvas tents, and fire lights burning embers.
On heightened senses of enticement, these living
Killers, smell their preys fear, thus so crossing the line,
Cutting deeply into man flesh, leaving bloody paw prints
Behind them, and giving birth to their own legend.
Translucent specters, blending mirages melting,
Within the tall grasslands scrub brush, as if creatures
Of illusion, brushed by the hot Massai winds.
Caddish yellow-green eyes, pierce through humanities
Nightmare realm, for in reality's harsh view, it cannot
Be real, these ghosts in the darkness.
Carnivorous hunters patrol, the devils backbone,
Known as Tsavo, skeletal bone collectors,
Relishing in their trophies prize, beware their talons
Man-eaters, rulers of this lost garden of Eden,
In the lions den, the bones of the dead scream in silence.
In this blood sports arena, these kings dominate over
The kingdom of men, dominion’s red cloak, is
Soaked in crimson's red, dripping freshly downwards
Towards hells cavern.
Mankind's greed, does drive this army of the walking dead,
Stalked by these feline demons, of the nights abyss.
Progresses iron horse must reach the African interior and
If poundage cost be in flesh and bone let it be so, paid.
Rushing waters forge, laid by steel rails bridge builder,
The holy architect whom carries, the long rifle of justice,
Assumes responsibility's heavy shovel, of the living dead's
Man vs. beast, teeth vs. bullets gunpowder, in the rising
Suns twilight, one shots sounding ends the fight, and alone
Lord remains to grieve for his fallen brethren.
In rages vengeance, the last warrior declares angers wrath,
And he is so slain by hail's gun blast.
But in Tsavo, the people still watch, for in legend, ghosts
Never truly die, yet remain hidden unto the hunger returns,
Beware, these ghosts in the darkness.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
if i was an iPhone or maybe even an iPod
you would turn the speakers up just to hear me speak
and we'd talk
if i wasn't just a dog
i would be with you all the time
and we'd even go for long long walks at night
if i could be something else that could be seen
then maybe you would see me
if i was a TV
maybe you would pay more attention to me
or even if I was just the remote control
i would be the one you always want to hold
if i was your Xbox or even just a video game
then you would sit with me instead
and we could play games together everyday day
if i was your brand new car
together we could drive under the stars
and as long as i can ride with u
i dont care how far we go or what we do
if i was your best friend
i think of all the time we'd spend
but im just a stupid dog
i'm cant even tag or post on your wall
but you were the one that picked me up
you picked me out of all the other pups
and for that i wouldnt change you at all
i will come every time my name is called
Motionless the big cat waits
deep in the scrub shadows
sun starting to set, night draws in
fading light makes her invisible
Only the odd flick of an ear
gives her positition away
suddenly she tenses and coils
a spurt of speed and its done
She and her cubs will eat tonight
softly the mother leopard calls
with a few rustles of undergrowth
they tumble into the moonlight
Furry balls of fun without a care
they belly up to the deer carcass
a few more weeks learning the ropes
then a solitary life awaits them all
Of the four she now has with her
maybe one will make it through
struggling with the strife of living
whilst fighting to rear her own cubs
For now they are safe and well tended
with a soft cry she takes them back
to her well hidden clifftop cave
they are all safe for yet another day
The sun shone brightly at last
On this breezy spring day
A black cat stalked a yellow bird in play,
As he stepped lightly across the fields of grass
Covered with dew , Alarmed , the bird flew
Leaving the cat with nothing to do
The sun shone brightly
on this breezy spring day
As the mouse appeared suddenly
through the field of grass
And once again the cat turned to play
Set me adrift
Turn me right around,
That's where I'm going.
That's where I'm found.
Snakes to eat.
As all this retreats.
Spines in the river;
Sharp, hungry teeth.
Pass through the darkness
A clearing now nears.
Towering waterfall, loftiest trees
A Jaguar now glimpsed, into Jungle is seen.
Turn me right around
As rain clouds appear.
The Waterfall. Darkness. Too few sounds.
The others now listened, but I
Near the Jaguar was found.
Slinking, quiet, bodies
So much power in those muscles
Don’t get caught in the dark with one
Phantom Journal Entry 1
Wednesday 8:03 A.M.
I found Jesus at a bus stop this morning. He recommended that I comb my hair. I told him if I had any nails I would hand them over. Monty found a shoe full of vomit by a dumpster. Someone had an interesting night. This apartment smells like stale french fries. Frank is still sleeping on the counter next to Mr. Coffee. There is a stray cat clawing at the windowpane. The town is gradually waking up. The park across the street is filled with shirkers. My mind is still living in last night’s conversation. But I don’t remember it very well. Shit, I’m going to be late for
Phantom Journal Entry 2
Wednesday 11:13 P.M.
Work sucked. I think the bartender is an alcoholic. She hides a flask in her bra. It fell out when we were in the stall together. Frank is sprawled across the kitchen floor. Monty steps over him to grab a beer. The stray cat is now sleeping on the windowpane. Nothing ever changes from morning to night. Except Monty is drinking coffee and not beer.
Phantom Journal Entry 3
Good Friday 9:47 P.M.
The ocean left the brine. The girls here are all made of smoke, and their dreams are living in my beer. The worms are drunk on the stove. Frank passed out hugging the toilet. Monty takes a piss right next to his face. Some girl just asked me what I was writing. I told her that I was rewriting the Bible. She seemed confused. Her hair wasn’t combed either. The guy at the bus stop would be ashamed. I can’t remember his name though. The television can’t stop spewing poorly scripted ‘reality’ shows. This Friday isn’t very Good.
Phantom Journal Entry 4
Monday 3:12 A.M.
My eyes are broken garage doors off the tracks. I’ve drank too much Red Bull. She keeps waking up and asking me for water. Apparently her mouth is in a drought. A dead soldier lays between her breasts. Frank keeps drooling on the carpet. My favorite ash tray is tipped over next to Mr. Coffee. This desk keeps hiding words from me. Monty wonders how much a plane ticket to Hell costs. He never sleeps.
Phantom Journal Entry 5
Thursday 12:31 A.M.
It smells of raw fish and bleach in here. My palms are sore. Monty told me to stab myself with pencils to make sure I could still bleed. So I did. That girl ordered me a pizza. But I forgot it under the couch. The medicine chest is nearly empty. When Frank wakes up he is taking a trip to 5th Street to get more. I wonder if they sell bandages there? Will Mr. Coffee brew marijuana for us? My brain is starting to throw up.
Phantom Journal Entry 6
Thursday 12:38 A.M.
This desk keeps mocking me. I offered it to the guy at the bus stop, but he said he didn’t want anymore wood. The dishes are now a chemistry project. But Mr. Coffee is always clean. I can’t get this girl to stop showing me her tattoos. I miss the bartender at work. She got fired tomorrow. So I bought her a new bra. The medicine chest is empty now. Frank is never awake when I write.
Phantom Journal Entry 7
Thursday 4:30 P.M.
I finally got the garage doors fixed. I guess they weren’t closed enough. There is a ghost that keeps haunting the hallway in my dreams. She is pretty hot. Except she keeps tilting the pictures on the wall.
The thirsty girl still won’t leave. Neither will the cat. We may have found the cure for cancer in our dishes. But probably not. Frank is talking in his sleep about stepping on rats. Monty is listening to Beethoven while he attempts to write poetry. He is an awful writer.
Phantom Journal Entry 8
Monday 1:49 A.M.
The guy at the bus stop asked me if I wanted to drink his blood. I told him I wasn’t thirsty. The water was running from the shower. Frank was dreaming in the tub. Monty ate chicken wings with the tattooed girl. I can’t remember her name. I think that cat is hungry too. Mr. Coffee wants to go to sleep. There is broken glass sticking out of my feet. The sky is bleeding white. My mind begins to masturbate.
Phantom Journal Entry 9
Sunday 3:33 A.M.
The brine is looking for the ocean. The girls here are all made of smoke, and their realities are dead on the floor. This desk is growing a face. The medicine chest is full. Monty picks up a filthy habit from the black lake. I haven’t seen Frank for a few days. He must be under the couch. I robbed the guy at the bus stop. Turns out he didn’t really save much. The thirsty tattooed girl shattered Mr. Coffee last night. I will miss him dearly. Now my shot glass is spawning worms.
Phantom Journal Entry 10
Tuesday and I don’t know what time it is
It’s been 369 days since I last wrote an entry. I’ve simply had nothing to say. Monty is living in the streets somewhere. I think of him every time I buy a loaf of bread. I wonder if he found out how much tickets cost? That cat finally starved a few weeks ago. I married that thirsty tattooed girl. I still don’t remember her name though. Frank went to sleep in someone elses apartment. Never did talk to him much. The worms are all marching in a line. Someone stole my medicine chest. I think it was Monty. The guy at the bus stop was thrown into an asylum. But somehow vanished one day. The garage doors are now closed on a regular basis. That ghost finally straightened out the tilted pictures. I think I’ve been combing my hair a lot better lately. I am still a phantom to society. But that’s okay. Nobody knows my name.
Deep breath to shake it
Cold chill slivers down fast
Beating against cage of heart
Cage of body
Cage of soul
Legs begging to run
Heart aching to be free
Truth to self
aching to be seen
Sweet scent of dry savannah plains
Sharp smell of thorny veins
The aroma of Africa surrounds
Scents sights sounds
In these home is found
Snarling at every motion made
Scared but defiant
Blinded by fear and rage
Paws long for endless journeys
On paths walked centuries ago
For elegance in element
A space all her own
Where earth still bleeds red on horizon
Morning and night
Continuing the endless fight
Fight for borderless freedom
The pale yellow green eyes
Dismays the truth inside
But tell the story
Of wild soul
Story to unfold
One was a child
so sweet and mild
Voice of a bell
to ward off hell
One was a bell
with a crystal chime
To comfort the cat
and make the earth shine
Two was a cat
With a mysterious past
A dark view of the world
And a horrible wrath
Two was a mind
as dark as night
To protect the doll
That could not see the light
Three was a doll
With a broken soul
A shattered heart
With eyes a black hole
Three was a rose
Of pure white
Covered in thorns
As black as night
Black cat whistl’n
black cat air
Black cat whistl’n
black cat air
White cat chokin’
black cat air
No more token black cat
fear is everywhere
Pin the donkey on a tale
in the story line
Pin the donkey on a tale
in the story line
Life is good
when lies align
Every Jackass has its time
in the story line
Wasatch front elders
mainline archaic attitudes
spooning oligarchical proclivities into
an exponentially increasing number of
novices unfamiliar with causal perception
- thought as choice - independent belief as decision
perpetuated by beating chests
powered by corporate suits masquerading
as persons fan the flames of incontinent dreams
incapable of sustaining perpetual motion by standing
on the backs of the masses begging to have cake and eat it
They’ll be back
They’ll be back
White cat chokin’
black cat air
no more token black cat
fear is everywhere
Every Jackass has its time
pull the tail ! pull the tail !
Every Jackass has its time
pull the tail ! pull the tail !
Bump on log
post a blog
be a Jackass, pull the tail !
pull it ! wag the dog
Curious, a drop of orgone dusk
Making way to peek amid that
These curtains; hush this breath
Rising in slivers their, delight..
A manifold cat crowing with
Blood dripping from the vine
Candlelight shadows and the clock
Chimes black rubies twined atop
Pentagon lines vanilla incantations
Silk desires, parting perfect red lips
Stoking this fire; deep the moans
Bewitching cradles resting now
The dawn which waits within
Her velvet charms; love, set ablaze...
Nightfalls curious drop of time
Beyound the curtains in that sublime
Whereupon her bosom she does lie
Casting spells while taking tithes
In this my heart they surely know
Outside their window, a proxics cat
Does crow; aneath blood as blue rubies
Dripping from vines; such, silk incantations.
I am writing this poem about you!
It’s not an easy thing to do
because I don’t know you.
But I know there are billions
of people on this planet.
Some will die while I write this and
while you read it others will be born.
Most have two arms,
two legs, and two eyes
one heart, one brain,
one mouth to speak with.
We are all the same.
People are people but
we don’t think alike.
Some of us love each other,
others hate everyone;
most do both unequally –
we choose what we think,
and we think differently.
You are the perfect subject for a poem.
You are the same as everyone
and like no other before you;
unique to yourself, exclusive to none.
You elude the common
and illude the extraordinary.
You are a homophone for the human race.
Are we not all homophones of each other?
A complacence to complaisance,
and effect to an affect, a tear to a tear,
the sole of a soul.
A homophone like you may be too
large a subject for one poem,
too complicated, too complex.
So, I will write about my cat instead,
a car ran over him yesterday
he is dead; and I have, in my fridge,
a half can of cat food in a plastic bag
useless and taking up space
and there is no homophone for that.
Twas every day upon the arbor
that a certain early bird eagerly sang.
Every day, as sun appeared, his audible
voice awakened bluebells…allowing this
opera house a song and sight of spring.
Always dreaming of Spring, along with
its serenading offspring; for ears to enjoy,
craving eyes to appreciate… feastings offered
with a daily entertainment value of sight and sound.
It was every day aside this arbor
Mother excitedly sat. Alongside her.
in silent anxiousness, sat always her angry cat,
awaiting the early bird…a lush angora.
All rights reserved @ Debra Squyres 2013
Written for: Consonant /Vowel sequence contest
[Nopalero = one who deals with/sells edible prickly pear cactus leafs/pads]
Aiiiii, Jimmy --
what shall we say, now that you've gone,
worst fear realized: your body discovered,
days later, in your filthy Mexican rooms,
amid the soiled papers littering the floors
reeking of cat urine and layer upon layer
of dried and fresher feces.
These feral cats were your most faithful companions.
You thought yourself their benefactor
and, perhaps, their savior.
We were told that, after your demise,
when the door opened, all 21 fled,
never to return. You left us,
unbathed, smelly, shunned,
just weeks before your birthday,
having almost (but not quite) suffered
through 80 years, the last 30 spent
in bordertown Mexico. You, daily, crossed
the bridge to claim your mail -- which (for a fee)
promised to guarantee that you would be a winner
of lotteries, sweepstakes, miraculous windfalls.
You subsisted on senior coffees at McD's,
on your pitiful government assistance,
since you were unwilling to abandon your
You blamed your life on abuse by brothers
(all dead long before you)
and you could not understand
why richer acquaintances --
virtually everyone --
were unwilling to share with you
In the plazas, you were a familiar sight,
selling whatever you could:
you were "el viejo gringo," "el Jimmy," "el nopalero,"
and other less generous
(but, perhaps, appropriate)
You knew animals, had some expertise with birds.
Your chief preoccupation was yourself,
and your main complaint was that you
never got your just deserts.
But no one deserves to end
as you did --
unclaimed, a foreign body,
interred in Mexico
in an unmarked pauper's grave,
a "fosa commun." You only wanted
to be loved. RIP my friend;
I did not mean to be unkind.
James Milford Pierson, 27 February 1934 - 2 February 2014.
My pet friends are Pebbles and Betty,
They are my doggy and cat.
I like to be with them always,
'Cause my negative vibes are vanish.
My Pebbles is our guard everyday.
My Betty is our clown in everyday.
Both of them are my ally,
And part of our family.
Silent, hidden lurking
In the quiet, empty spaces
Floating, ancient Insect;
Turning droplet hazy. . .
Moving, breathing knowing
Another feline faces---
Hunger, further paw marks
Corners there to brace me.
Climb up to a tree.
Jump, tear, and tether.
Hold-fast, breathing, eating.
Reaping other meanings. . .
Stepping; other traces.
Spiders, monkeys, murky. . .
Sniffing, darkness, pausing.
Toying other feelings
Elusive, resting purring.
Other paw marks near me.
A short little laugh.
A roll on the floor,
Nearly in tears I realize I am not alone in the room.
An eye brow rises at my odd conniption.
I merely point breathlessly at the corner.
Once more the cat has gotten its head caught in a plastic cup.
A warm little creature crawls upon my lap
Looking up through the sobs
She does understand, this little creature
More than anyone possibly can
Finding comfort in the warmth of my distress,
She curls up, her ears perked, her face slightly buried
A fast beating heart…pumping the blood I no longer wish for
Her comfort offers infinite suns of solace
Her eyes define empathy, peace and goodness
She is a cat
A small baby, seeking warmth
Who gives all of herself to be close to me
To be near…no matter how far the shackles of despair repel me
She is a cat
So simple, and yet everything in this moment
The aggressive cuteness, the brutal comfort
The claw that tears the very grime
And the curiosity that simply erases time
She is my cat
And all my own
When even time herself offers darkness
My current companion is my cat,
Right now half dozing peacefully beside me.
She isn’t really mine,
For a cat belongs to no one.
My cat is the perfect hedonist
Unlike my dog who thinks it’s all about me.
Still, I marvel at her controlled power and grace,
The way she goes from sleeping
To ready to spring and pounce in an instant,
My tiger in a ten-pound package.
She captivates me by being sometimes aloof,
Sometimes affectionate when it suits her purpose.
What is behind those wily, intelligent,
Inscrutable green eyes?
I don’t think I truly want to know what she’d say.
I might find what she really thinks of me!
But we accept each other
And we have an understanding.
We are friends if I accept her friendship on her terms.
I feed and care for her
And in return she allows me to admire her.
Big blundering beast
Poor fish have no chance whatsoever
Neither does the slowest runner in your group
(this poem has nine stanzas, which means KATS have 9
lives - there's proof right there! J/K Enjoy this silly, kute
For some weird reason,
Those kute kreatures make my night
The best one ever!
Klever, little kats
I weep happy tears…buddy!
They are KUTE KREATURES
Listenin’ to musik…
Demi Lovato’s awesome
Lonesome without kat…
Without my kute kat
By my side, I’m torn apart
My lonely day’s gone!
Kats make my night fun!
Midnight has dawned upon me
Without my buddies,
I’d be an unhappy guy
Music + kats = great!
Hey krazy kitty!
Come to me! Cheer me up, man!
Kats are krazy kool!
My kompanion’s kewl!
My black kat, Spy, reminds me
Of a sly panther
All of my kitties
Make me beam all day and night
Where’s my furry friend?
It was an early September storm,
Jackson the Pug, didn't have a thing to do
so he found an old comic book
about a Super Hero who wore a cape,
He climbed up into his favorite easy chair
and began to read,
or should I say,
look more so at the pictures.
it didn't take long however,
before Jackson began to get sleepy
he took a deep breath, and sighed
and fell into a comfortable sleep
Then he began to dream!
He dreamed of being on a roof top,
and he heard,a terrible noise from the alley below
he poked his head over the ledge and saw
A huge Rottweiler, had a Mother Cat and her kittens cornered.
Jackson, without thought, sprang into Action
down the fire escape he ran, his red cape
aloft, trailing him, with a circle with the
Big letters SP in the center of it
The last landing, had a roll down ladder,
but Jackson leaped the last fifteen feet,
Super Pug, Canine Super Hero took flight
In a flash, he landed between the Rottweiler and
the Cat family.
he quickly turned, and glared at the Rottweiler
and said" Large Canine Evil doer, I am Super Pug
you will leave these citizens alone, and leave,
or your fate shall rest in my Paws"
With this the Rottweiler began to howl,
" Little flea, it is you who will leave or,
I will eat you as an appetizer " another howl
as he began to inch towards Jackson.
"You were warned" snarled Jackson, "Now meet your fate"
Thwap! Pop! Smack! Howl! Smack! Thud!
Jackson moved like lightening, his cape a blur,
the dust settled, the Rottweiler was down and out
" Oh Super Pug" said the Mother Cat,
You're my Hero, and licked his face.
just then, Jackson woke up from his little nap,
with a blanket, just like his cape covering him!
With Janice Pug, his wife, licking his face!
When I left he was in his lounging chair
TV way too loud
The glow of discontent on his face
Made me want to cry
The only peace now in his life
Never left his side
He sat there scratching Baxter
Life just passed him by
In his day he was the man every man wanted to be
He had the looks, he had the job
The wife, the kids, all three
Then came the day he lost it all
His family went away
Left behind his loyal cat
Baxter was his name
Through all times, most were bad
His cat stayed by his side
A comfort to his troubled soul
In life it was all he had
It has been said
Man’s best friend
Has always been a dog
But in this case it was a cat
Whose love surpassed them all
I went to visit my friend today
To see how he was doing
Knocked on the door several times
The TV was still blaring
Turned the knob and opened the door
I thought that he was sleep
But somewhere between the days he died
In peace now he is sleeping
In his lap still sat the cat
Who had been his one companion
He knew his master had left this earth
His eyes revealed his sadness
I could not help but start to cry
When I thought of how it ended
Sitting at home with the TV on
All alone while scratching Baxter
Cat – Ugly - Pretty - Ugly
Ugly cat invades us in savage fashion to steal our dinner
We’ll have none of that and kicked it out in the beginning
But it keeps returning though, meowing, growling, and you know
We now have an ugly cat or it has us
Mean, vicious, suffers from malnutrition
Looks at us like we’re delicious
It only eats raw meat
Did I mention it’s malicious?
Looks like cat’s been run over by a bus
Super fussy fur ball of fluff and nasty stuff
Ugly kitty has no place in our existence
Lazy thing makes friends with mice
It hates the smell of cheese and us
And takes pride in being not so nice
Cat has no clue of truth and beauty
We don’t know just what to do
Can’t figure out its longitude and “attitude”
Kitty sits and wishes it was cuter
Good luck with that
It climbs on shelves, destroying things
Concentrates on plates and dishes
Climbing walls, tearing curtains
Leaves mirrors for last to break
To see how pretty he must be
Most small creatures are sweet and cuddly
Not the case with this feline Mr. Ugly
Can’t get close or even figure out its sex
With scratching claws, biting attacks, and flaws
A feline fatality in the making for us all
The monstrosity lost its meow with us somehow
Only howls and growls without a cause
Allies won’t even take it back
It comes from a questionable lineage
Probably won’t reach old age
Deplete of social graces and education
Lacking looks will send it to an early grave
I would like to shoot it but fear it might shoot back
We’re superficial like that
And what type of person shoots the kitty cat?
I mean, in the back
A cat wandering the
streets of the asphalt homeland
sees an alleyway next
to an apartment building
The cat walks towards it
in the heat of a summer
The alleyway is dark and
Youngsters walk there to retrieve
balls they have thrown
The alleyway leads to
a small courtyard
Where older citizens sit
about younger days
Evening draws on
Our feline friend
sleeps in the shadowed alleyway
Another night falls on the city
Lights go off in
the old apartment building
While this cat
heads off to dreamland
We are sick to think we have done something big.
We are in a daze and nothing more.
The cats that came were deformed.
They legs were made to dance.
The rigmarole was a silent scream.
They were as colorful as butterflies.
They walked around with scary eyes.
The fat men that brought them were sloppy pigs.
They were sick to think they had done something big.
Immense the ravage these pigs were.
They were friends to the deformed felines.
They stomachs were made to prey human.
The raze caused confusion.
They were to form the great divided.
They walked around with scary eyes.
They would feast on the rodents that thrive in the ground.
They were to be taught this or they would be wiped out.
On a deadly morn, the cats woke.
By noon, the pigs honked.
The people of the City did their work.
This would be the day guns smoked.
The Cats lives were lived in dilapidation.
The Pigs lives were in slop.
The Wild Boars would try to convert.
The pigs were pigs ate by the humans.
The battle started.
The humans killed more.
The wild boars receded.
The deformed felines were destroyed.
~Inspired by the expressive art of poetry via storytelling, fantasy, fairy tales, tall tales, etc.~
Adopt a snow Leopard the TV ad said
Just £5 a month
So I signed up straight away
I forgot all about it
until there was a knock on the door one day
I opened the door and just saw two delivery men
And there before my door
was a large crate
that wasn't there before
There was a label
saying ''this is Fred
handle carefully or you
Well I scratched my head
then the penny dropped
as I heard a mighty roar
Never had a cat as a pet before.
I opened the crate carefully
and much to my surprise
With a huge snow leopard with massive sharp teeth
and wild angry eyes
I didn't know what to do
but I needed new underpants
and I was petrified.
''Here kitty'' I said I guess it wasn'twell fed
by the way it bit my leg ouch!
I was as angry as a thunderstorm
and shouted very loud
and Fred got back in the cage
at the back and coward.
Soon I realized Fred was just a scaredy cat
and not a fearsome monster at all
He loved having his belly stroked
and playing with a ball.
We'd go everywhere together
and in the stores we'd always get straight to the front of the cue
We'd run through through fields of lavender
and taste the morning dew.
Then one morning I got a letter
''We want Fred back he's so rare
we want to put him in a zoo''
I thought not bloomin likely
but what could I do?
To be continued.
On a serious note, Snow Leopards are very rare, so are mountain Gorillas, only 180 left. They are trapped and killed for trophies and fur. They were here long before is. they need our help. The World wildlife fund and other such charities rely on donations.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Dec.
As the kids sat around undecided and blaize…
A summer project was needed ever so badly today…
My crew wavered and together finally exclaimed…
They wanted a video and to make it spectacular this time…
Anything less than U Tube quality would be a crime…
So the kids ask for a poem about their favorite fare,
They wanted it full of a large quantity of action and flair.
And the topic they wanted, that warmed their hearts…
Were the antics of Dandylion the cat of our house.
So cat chasing and spying became a spectacular game…
As they watched the kitty pounce upon his little rag mouse.
Then he slid and he jumped as he ran through the house.
He attacked the dogs tails as he snuck up behind…
And he climbed to the window to count birds passing by…
Then he tried to jump on the counter as I made everyone’s lunch.
He had to eat first… there was no other way, than first…
Then later I put the baby down for a nap…
And surprise, surprise!
I found the Kitty next to baby with 4 paws to the sky.
The video, music, and poetry would eventually come to be…
With the older kids stringing it together for me.
It was finally good for a lot of laughs…
As the kids all got copies for dear Mom and Dad…
But now let me instruct and suggest as all videos must:
Though many a one was happily surprised and beset…
No Animals were hurt in the making of “Nap Time for Kitty”...
Of that, you can bet...
My tom cat Ponch can be a gentleman
In many more ways than one
He’s a lean, handsome, riotous
Unassuming and street smart
His word is his bond you can be sure
He speaks his mind on time
He has no patience for pretense
He purrs and purrs until I stir
So cajoling he can be
My tom cat Ponch can be a wild child
With a gift for verse and prose
He lights my furnace and melts my heart
He serenades with poetic words
He’s romantic and full of passion
And though not rich, yet I still will keep
His heart as good as gold
‘Cause he purrs and purrs until I stir
So obliging I want to be
Glassy, green eyes
Narrowing in on me,
The gaze: raw, piercing.
Back to sleep,
Curling into a soft, impenetrable mound
Atop the couch.
I relax, following his lead.
All is well: after all, he's Just a cat,
Possessing no strange powers.
Yet, red eyes in the dark stir in me:
Some magic is going on here,
He, the keeper of the secret,
Can never disclose.
The joyful cat with three colors
He woke me up before I went to school
He couldn’t sit still always playful
Stayed for six months, which was so wonderful
The smartest cat with three colors
Always did potty on the toilet
I got him from my auntie, they both passed
To ever had him was one of our bless
The cutest cat with three colors
On Sunday, crashed by my own neighbor
We cried for a week and still remember
Named Tymmy, no other cat better
Purring in perfect perfection.
Curled up in contended contentment
he lies - half asleep, half awake -
ears attuned to tin opening...
coiled, curled, like a spring ... prepared.
Once playful and kittenish
he has aged into feline maturity.
Moving with stealth and pouncing,
surprising his prey with pliable precision,
then proudly presenting the prone prize to me.
This cat has character -
a constant companion since 'kitten-hood'.
Turning from tabby tearaway to
majestic malkin, marvellous mouser...
ears twitching as he sleeps ....
rousing to rustles - reacting with ready reaction ...
poised for action, or soporific on sofa...
preening at intervals, then asleep again -
dreaming of midnight prowling,
tom cat howling, rat and mousing.
He is my therapy: stroking his purring form;
conversing, cat-calling, cuddling, cajoling
him to come home .... he is a comfort -
a faithful feline friend, now middle-aged -
like me - and both curled up in contented contentment.
What's on your mind cat?
What are you thinking every time you are looking afar,
every time you wiggle your tail and every time you look straight to my eyes?
What's on your mind cat?
What are you dreaming every time you sleep from morning till afternoon,
every time you sleep on my lap
and every time you sneak into my room to sleep beside me on the bed?
What's on your mind cat?
What are you saying every time you meow with round eyes,
every time you meow with a demanding tone
and every time you purr and glide your head through my legs and hands.
What's on your mind cat?
What do you feel every time I cuddle you,
every time I carry you in my arms and every time I hug you tight?
What's on your mind cat?
What do you hear every time I call your name,
call you kitty or call you my baby?
Do you even hear me or you just pretending you don't because you don't care at all?
What's on your mind cat?
Sometimes you are warm but mostly you are cold towards me.
Sometimes you are like a sweet baby but mostly you're an independent adult.
My affection for you only works for a few minutes and eventually loses its effect.
I may not know what's on your mind cat. It must be a secret.
A secret that blossom into beauty that makes everyone unable to resist chasing you.
Cats are like women they might be complicated beings but they were also made to be adored and loved.
By: Doris Jamoner
I want to find my cat.
Oh how I want
to find that cat.
Come on, cat,
come and find a mouse
and play in the house.
I miss that cat of mine.
Oh my little cat,
when you come back,
you will be welcomed
by a big purple sign.
**The Tiger Cat**
There he is again crossing the broken sidewalk as I take another morning
There he is with his four paws dashing across the way chasing mice and birds.
He is the king of his jungle you could say.
No other cat would debate it.
He is the king of his yard and claims it in a noble way.
A tiger cat he is! Dashing and prancing is his game.
A tiger cat he is! Moving across the lawn like Mohammad Ali.
Birds don’t stand a chance against his moves.
Neither does the common field mouse.
Just wait til that house across the way is sold and a new cat sets foot on his
Just wait til a new cat competes for his glory.
It will be the end of this tiger cat’s story!
Oh well, until that day arrives he will maintain his title…
As the coolest cat in town and the king of his own jungle!
Written by Gwendolen Rix
A telepathic throat
gargles stories and
spits fables’ fish into a watery abyss.
The surface shimmer draws us in
to fall, dream, dive, swim
as the storyteller spins us.
We balk at the tales of winged-hearts.
Love doesn't exist.
We swear by this as God disappears,
erases slowly while we wake up in season.
Love drops to the ground
with winter all around.
Snow covers and closes our eyes.
Pronounces what has died.
In the lens the pupil frames
a frozen image of my flame.
Could it possibly survive?
Rise up and be alive?
The same old story persists
where we make the same old wish.
Devils, misfits, do-gooders, cherubs and chumps,
wonder if God is make-believe, a dream or a magician's trick.
We cross our fingers and chant the scriptures
until The Almighty is real or a lie we can live with.
To be, to be, is miracle enough for me.
My cat chews on this paper—naps on every draft of this poem.
I worship her.
A beagle pup curled up on a carpet of green grass
Peering at the noonday sky
Contemplating the actions of a fast moving cat
Along the old rickety fence
Effortlessly tippy-toeing like a cat with ten lives
He wonders what it’d be like to spend one day
Just one day
As a dog with a cat jumpsuit on
I wonder what fun it would be to pounce from behind a
pile of leaves at a fast moving ant
Or what it would be like to jump from the hood of a car
Pretending to be as agile as a flying squirrel
Or what about licking my paws after eating from a can of cat food?
Oh what a joy to be a cat!
Then with a bit of hesitation the dog grew sad
He thought of all the wonderful attributes he already had
His master, his bed, his own special treats
“What was I thinking? “ said the dog
I’ve got it made in the shade here with my own family
I don’t want to be a cat after all
He quickly put an end to that thinking
And continued on with his almost perfect life
Never again would he go there with his thoughts
Of wondering what it would be like living a real cat’s life!
Kitty In A Soup
Our town has its usual vertical ups and downs and horizontals
One day a gray kitten still finding its way
Discovered a long cylindrical corridor
A seeming hallway or in its tiny mind
Another place to play and hide
This narrow hallway however ran up and down
Not side to side in the usual horizontal way
Gravity took hold of the situation
And pulled the kitten down the drainage pipe
Stuck in the dark hole, the cat began to cry for help
It went from mew to MEW!
Soon giant men arrived in the loud trucks
Two thin long sticks like chopsticks were employed
The extrication was a delicate operation
Kitty was pulled out exactly like a tiny shrimp
From a deep dish soup in the oriental restaurant
Mew was all it knew to thank the men in rubbery red suits
Who sirened down the street after the rescue
My friend's spirit is like my cat, she
sleeps all day, but not under my bed
like some fur lined creatures. She prowls
the house watching TV in the black of
night and only stops for another bite to eat.
She feeds on frozen dinners not like my
Queenie who dines on fresh chicken and
turkey to keep her gorgeous tabby coat
Being in AA she drinks only water but
still rolls around on the floor, and snacks
throughout the day. She is an indoor lady
and doesn't want to traipse the streets,
probably due to early childhood trauma.
There is no argument... she is the Queen
of the house.
July 22, 2014
Don't make a sound,
Until you do.
Eyes kind and innocent.
Soft and pristine,
Unaware of the worlds hate.
A gentle song to sleep.
Why are you so lovely.
The cat waits by the door
with begging eyes and wagging tail.
He waits for them to open the door
and let him in.
This is the sixth home he's visited today
but yet his hopes never dim.
He meows loudly in hopes that someone
would let him in.
And again, another kick
again, another rejection foot has come.
He falls off each step, but gets back up
and keeps on searching.
That foolish cat came to my house.
His matted fur and mangled body disgusted me.
But because I liked his audacity,
his spontaneity, his rambunctiousness
I let him in
I let him in and I doctored him.
I wondered people rejected this cat....
He was so peaceful, so enjoyable,
But then one day
I came home to a pile of feces on my bedroom floor.
I thought nothing of it.
I cleaned it up.
The next day I came home,
he had torn the carpet in my guest bedroom.
No reason to fret, though.
No one ever stayed for a visit.
The next day I came home,
my living room was a mess.
Slashed pillows and billowing cotton
Foul urine and watery regurgitation
Broken China and torn wallpaper
I couldn't take it any longer.
Now I know why people rejected this cat.
And like all the others
I gave him the rejection foot.
I kicked love out.
With high ambitions.
Giant tigers and regal lions
are emulated comically
By this chubby domestic.
The never ending battle
Of the red dot.
Warfare with the feather.
Abushing houseplants with zeal.
Ackward leaps that fall short.
Oh, the irony of the cat,
To whom the livingroom is the Serengeti.
And yet are not the big cats immitating the small?
Even Lions may purr,
And Tigers sleep the day away.
Large teeth and claws
But dreams of peace and litterboxes.
That every cat,
large and small,
may learn to purr in contentment of their own situation.
Felines are awesome
Why do you have to torture me so?
Fluffy cat walks by
Why do you catch my eye? Whyy!?
Because...it's precious? :)
Felines are funny!
Why do they entertain me
With their cuteness? Aww...
Cats are my childhood memory.
Cats are adorbz.
Cats are unique.
Cats are fuzzy and furry!
Cats are extraordinary...
Felines are PLAYFUL!
Felines are like kids...they want to have fun and
Get your attention when they want you to!
Felines are weird...but they are my treasure of light!
Felines are priceless and smart, not dumb, dad!!
Felines are craaazy, but lovable all the same
Their independence amazes me...they purr with gleeeee!
My dependence towards them are eternity
What do you like about cats?
Answer in the comment box below!
Red dot of light
Glides across the room
Must capture this intruder
She crouches down
Ready to attack
As the dot moves closer
Pouncing into action
She slides on the floor
But the dot eludes her again
Determination in her eyes
She attacks once more
With a fury of paw swipes
The dot disappears
She frantically glances around
But it is gone…
Defeated, she wanders to her food dish
a thousand times I call your name
throughout the day
like I always would
you'd come frolicking around the corner
always making your way
a thousand times I swear I feel you
brush up against my legs
like you always would
a thousand times more
I forget your gone
because you should be here
but I know it's an oasis
one where your lungs are restored,
your breaths aren't shallow
and you're eating all of the tuna in the world
a thousand times I swear I wake up
you next to me
on the other pillow
I can't help but sleep against the wall
afraid I'll roll over on you
and then I wake up,
and the reality takes toll
a thousand times I've prayed for your soul
but in the end,
The skies were Cerelean blue.
It was a fine day that the war
finally did end. The honorable
queen was cooling off sitting
in one of her favorite spots:
the bathroom sink.
You see this Queen was a fine
Tabby cat from a long line of
Tabby strays. Yet, being a stray
was no hinderence to her for her
ideals and scrupple were beyond
reproach: Sleep during the day on
whoevers lap you can find and
bother no one. To remain in her
queendom she must lick the ears
of the Goddess when she arrives
home each night. These were the
simple principals she lived by.
You see with open eyes,
Though I try to close them for you,
How can I feel disdained,
When your words I smile at them,
Like a cat caught in the act,
I feel Im sneaky and Im sly,
And when the lights flash on,
Im either innocent or high,
Maybe I should own up,
That I'm bittersweet and slightly kind,
But I like the bad cat rep,
So much better than mine.
Im flirty and dismissing,
With the flick of a tail,
And Id rather write a story,
Than have the truth to tell.
Make it interesting,
Filled with riddles and flash,
Like the fact that I have a heart,
But Its missing in act-
Unable to finish my sentence,
I must be loosing my brain,
Or like a playful kitty just distracted by the game.
Don't get wrapped up,
And caught in my paws,
Or your heart will get slashed.
And you'll feel my pretty claws,
Like a toy mouse you'll sit,
And I'll play like a cat,
I may be nice,
But I'm stickin to my act ;)
How unlike a cat is this
slender dash of ink upon the page,
this pinch of print, this little line
of punctuation, adding
its mere millimetres of meaning,
black against white,
significant in its separation
of segments of the sentence,
imbuing words around it with a dab
of consequence or moment.
How like a printed dash
is my black cat,
stretched and stark against the sun-white concrete
of the distant yard baking below,
separating nothing but atoms of air,
significant only in herself –
a piece of furry punctuation
that tells us solely that it is,
and needs no function to perform.
By itself, it is of itself,
answerable to no one and to nothing –
except the rain, which has just arrived,
suddenly, in slapping, ponderous lumps,
to soak the stone page and darken it,
and drive her dash to drier quarters.
There’s an obscure legend: that a snow-white cat climbed the cross to gently lick the wounds in Yeshua’s feet and climbing higher, the bruised, bleeding flesh of his left hand, then took up his vigil on Yeshua’s shoulder with his flank facing Yeshua's left cheek, and in his agony, the last thing Yeshua heard was the comforting, purring murmur of his mourner before he yielded up his spirit, surrendering his head to the warm, furry bosom of the greatest kindness he’d ever known.
Darkness crossed the land and the cat had disappeared, where, no one knew, though no one noticed him waiting atop the stone before the tomb when Yeshua came forth to greet that morning, and the first living One to touch him wasn’t Doubting Thomas but a purring, pure-white cat rubbing against Yeshua’s leg…
… the legend also says that his name was Iannos (John The Beloved).
Cat Crimes and Misdemeanors
Five cats came into town in a 57 Chevy
To rob Bank of America with AK-47s
They blew in through the doors with a meow
No one would pet them
Patrons cringed in fear and fell
This was no ordinary crime
All five were charged with trespassing among other things
And that was just the beginning
Detectives figured out quite quickly
Cats don’t drive old cars, especially kitties
Who have no licenses or opposable thumbs
So they could not pull the triggers
Old widow, Mrs. Peabody, the driver of the Chevy
Took her kittens with her for the drive
A deposit, the only thing on her mind
Thank God it was not a capital or high crime
But she and the cats were fined
Charged with misdemeanors
As for the AK-47s
They were toys strapped to their sides for fun
Cats only meow. They don’t shoot guns
They don't commit crimes
That is, not at this time
When the ether settles
and fortune bellows
and eastern stars make haste
Says one cat to the other's jazz
let not the crystal trade your
For growing roads like trees
a constellation mayn't foretell
Like ore, a mineral deposit found,
such plaster curves
and muscles drive.
The cat with jazz then
made aware, did leave his iron
And south by east
the stars they ride.
A cat found a nice escape
lounging outside by a tree;
A squirrel above catches sight
and thus starts an acorn fight;
The cat is smacked in the head
not too dizzy for revenge;
Little feet run up the tree
right into a kitty frenzy.
The cats get fat
on the blood of the poor
They live in ease
while their people are treated like fleas
brushed away to die!
Power to the people, overthrow the order,
all the power to the proletariat!
Hollow words through the mind
hollowed by a bullet in the skull
sent to prison for a view
Anger and Hate for the Communist!
Power to me, I am the order,
follow me or you betray the proletariat!
Hollow words through the mind
hollowed by a bullet in the skull
Sent to the labor camp, educated in pain
life made undone by a Communist!
Long the revolution that can never stop
regardless of how many dead of the proletariat!
Another cat gets fat
on the blood of the poor
They live in ease
while their people are treated like fleas
sent away to die!
For the moment I merely watched him
Running back and forth in his home
I am patient you see
I am full of time plenty
I am the sly one in the darkness and I am hungry
So I waited, all day I waited,
All night I waited, I waited, waited, waited
And in the morning he came out of his house
I waited no more
I struck like a black bolt of lightning streaking down from the heavens
As if Death itself had ripped across space to sever everything with its scythe
I screamed down from heaven and struck
Only to find him leaping up and over me
To tumble in the air and land behind me
I landed in a crouch...
Peering around over my shoulder I gleamed at him
He for his sake I saw glaring back at me balefully with eyes and one hand beckoning me
Spun around and lashed out with my whip as I did
He ducked it,
With the speed of sound my fist struck him
He blocked it
Out came my foot, and then the other
He evaded the first, and caught the second
I rolled and struck him across his face with the first
Again I landed on my feet
He staggered back and with a back flip he was ready once more...
He wiped his nose with one hand
Bade me come at him again with the other
A sly half grin on his lips
I charged this impudent fool
Changed direction, spun around
Out came my whip
Out came my foot
And he leaped over my whip
Flipped between my foot
And struck me twice with his own
light kicks to the face meant to shock me more than hurt me
We parted and circled each other
Looking for openings in the other's defenses
And there because I am patient I found it
A chink in his armour of skill and technique
He was mine
Again I rushed him in one smooth fluid motion
Twin kicks, the whip, my fists, and head butt, knees and elbows
In blinding fury, speed and in the space between thought it was over...
He retreated blocking the kicks,
Ducking the whip,
Avoiding the fists left then right
Catching the head butt in his hands
Countering the knees with his knees
The elbows with his elbows
He did the impossible
Rolling backwards he slammed my head into the wall,
Sliding from beneath my crumpling body with his feet
To stand ready inches from my limping body
I remember thinking then as my eyes closed to the world
"That's one damn tough hamster," I get out of the Kitty Clinic in two days
I want a rematch
I found another cat
Don’t be jealous now
I love it so
Because it looks like you
Like you were
When you first came home.
I don’t know if it’s a he or a she
But it’s a playful little thing
It has a grey mummy
Who takes care of it
Who bites it when they play
And licks the dirt
Out of its fur
It is trustful
It comes under my armpit
When I write in bed
Or crawls on anyone’s lap
When it’s cold outside
It never sleeps alone
Never seeks its own space
Never wants to cuddle alone
With no one close to it
Maybe it learnt to trust
Unlike you do
Because it has the kind of mother
That you never had.
You grew up independent
Looking after your own back
Coming to the house
Only when hungry
Or when you wanted
to sleep in peace
Maybe they took you
away from your family
Why you never even play
With your twin sister
You’re suspicious of your own mother
Every time she passes by
And your father
That cat blacker than the night
You’re always fighting him
I hear you most nights
Then I see blood on you nose
In the morning
Or a patch of fur missing
And claw scars in their place
If you were human
Yours would be called
A dysfunctional family
I hope I have treated you well
All the days you’ve been my pet
I hope you had a little taste
Of what your mother
Didn’t give you
I miss you plenty
When I come back- if I come back
Will you remember me?
Will you remember I left?
And feel I neglected you
I am only human,
More than that
I never stick around
And move around I must
Sometimes I come back
This time I may not
I hope they take care of you
Give you food
To be stronger against your daddy
I hope they hive you space
To be the independent cat you are
I will remain with memories
When I meet other cats
Like the kitten I have now
Cats with White with black patches
Over their eyes
Who look a lot like you
Or better still
I‘ll just look at your photo
The one I put on facebook
And when I miss you real bad
I only have to look.
His royal bloodline
can be traced
to the temples and
pyramids of Egypt
but no longer
He sits nobly now,
on this humble
throne of pine
Waiting for his
master to groom
his mane and
serve his dinner
There once lived a cat named Doll she drink alcohol.
Everyday she'd drink and drink until her breath became rank and stank.
Not A drop did she pour down the sink.
Then one night she got so drunk she stumbled out the door and wasn't seen no more.
Then three days later her body was found in a big lake where she lay drown.
The news was heard all around cat city.
"Such a pretty cat" they'ed say "Oh what a pity"
Why did such a thing happen to this kitty?
A autopsy was done to see why she died, she drown of course but it's what they found inside.
They said that she was high after sniffing catnip all day, then she got drunk and went out to play.
How sadden they all were to hear such a thing.
The funeral is now over and she now lies in her grave six feet under.
DEAD CATS AND DEAD MOUSES!
-Dharga Nagar Safa
Cat catches rat-
I learned then!
My child learns now!
Have three names
a formal name
a secret name
demand a fuss when they’re wet
sit on your lap when you are just about to leave
sleeping in front of a fire make me feel warmer
but they have no soul said
so denied thereby cannot enter heaven
but promising not to scratch the carpet
still winding purring around St.Peter’s ankles and mine at the gates
I don’t want to go into a heaven without cats
The turkey is in the oven and the sink is steaming clean
the cat is on the bed while the dog is in just another room
there are two guests in the house with another on the way
and the phone is ringing nearly every fifteen minutes
One brother is playing with the dog while the other guest is reading
Mother is on the phone and I am sitting at my desk praying quietly
The squirrels are running through the wet leaves from tree to tree
while the cat is snoozing and the strays are absent for the day
The turkey has over three hours to bake and one pie has been cut
The other items are being made one by one while the table is set the
lights are up on the house waiting to be turned on and the only birds
are a clock
It's Thanksgiving and giving is good even when it happens to be
gratitude- Happy Thanksgiving to all "and to all a good" season!
I was going to write you a poem
but my cat lay in the road.
I scraped up his remains with a shovel
paced them in a plastic bag,
dropped it into a dumpster.
I was going to write you a poem
but in my fridge is a half can of cat food,
with a cellophane lid,
useless and taking up space.
It was a Sunday lunchtime
When my son's voice I heard
Mum may I please keep him
In surprise at him I stared
He held a tiny kitten
It's head against his chest
Mottled brown, grey and white
His fur, in alarm, a crest
My son with eyes of sepia brown
Pleaded his cause to me
"I've found him in the garden
above our sycamore tree"
"He must belong to someone",
so saying I stroked it's fur
"Try number forty one"
"I did, but no-ones there"
The kitten surveyed my kitchen
With eyes of wedgwood blue
He struggled to be put down
Then gave a plaintive mew
"He probably wants milk"
So my son into action flew
He commandeered the milk bottle
Then the fridge for tomorrow's stew
The kitten circled expectantly
Shadowing every movement made
Then as if a connoisseur of food
He surveyed the spread we laid
Anticipating his instinctive relish
We exchanged looks of glee
After casually sniffing it, with nose aloft
He skipped out to the sycamore tree.
Small furry, stripy, cuddly puss makes
Lots of noise as the early dawn breaks
And so the reluctant household wakes.
“Get out of bed now,
Come down and feed us for all our sakes,
We’re on our last miaow.”
The household can but do as it’s told,
This tabby cat is exceedingly bold.
So from my bed and into the cold
I creep to provide
The feline breakfasts as I was told,
With some milk beside.
This tabby cat is plump and quite cute,
Bossy and nurse-like, a real old boot,
Her every whim always bears fruit,
She bustles about.
She’s Hattie Jacques in a tabby suit,
Matronly with clout.
Her fur is sleek, her voice is sublime
What will she be like given more time?
Her bossy manner isn’t a crime.
Sometimes she holds back.
Her friend, an alpha cat in his prime
Is leader of the pack.
Whoever you are..I love you.
Good luck. Nothing more.
I saw you were perfect so I loved you.
Then I saw you were not perfect.
So I looked again then I saw it wasn't you.
It was me! I'm seeing in a mirror.
So being a Cat I'm PERRRRRRRRRfect!
So love me more?
Revered, worshipped and idolised
For many a century past,
This model of faultless divinity
Continues to capture our hearts.
Clandestine, profound and bewitching
Epitome of pride and decorum,
A splendid work of nature’s fine art
Enlightens our lives with its aura.
Enchanting eyes reflective in light
During stealthy nocturnal ramblings,
Carnivorous stalker of boundless endurance,
A feline vampire of unfortunate prey.
This diminutive tiger of domestic dwelling,
Switches from aloof predator to loyal
Ally at the crossing of the threshold,
Expressing contentment with a deep vibrating purr.
of old age
but I can't comprehend
why you left so fast
parted your bony corpse
that precise fur
gleaming fall coat
the black and orange-
a contrast so unique
why does age creep up-
eliminating your organs
toying with your mind
into accepting the fate-
and though each death withholds happiness
smiles are forgotten
we use the muscles to avoid tears-
those that are supposedly helpful to endure
my friend my pet, my sidekick
waking me up throughout the nights with a purr
4 am tortured me
but now I lye awake at 4
awaiting your purring- your presence
How do you move on when they become a part of you-
an pure unconditional love
I’ve a wish
To spend my musings on little things simple things
Little thoughts each in its place
Little items about my room perfectly fixed
(woods may be full of paper bits of discard
the footprints of children abundant
and their leavings)
(a trash bin tastelessly placed blocks view of a great old tree)
(the room’s a mess only as one fears an intruder
phone need not be lifted doorbell unanswered sweet music)
There are cats in the room
Breathing pulse on a terrible complex geometry
warping table tops and bottoms legs and arms
interrupting lines and joints
(how a cat will perpetually lick itself clean self companion
with filthy tongue)
A fat black Persian’s asleep (without eyes) by the patio door
Then a snow white cat in folds a rumpled pink blanket undulating on the floor
A seal point
With restless perfect beauty
With razor sharp flanks as though clipped each day by elfin barber
After petting she’s twitching around growling
Astrut in leaps and bounds
The intrusion is precious but devastating
Day after day there is a poet watching himself compose
mind standing off looking at some stale image of mind
neither hot nor cold but blowing
And I return and return
Sit down my hour to write each day
Watching the white cat on her pink blanket
How the light does play
This in answer to Carolyn Devonshire's challenge. I also just read a very fine poem about
being obsessed with a room, by Andrea Dietrich. Thanks Carolyn for your faith in me. BIG
Dewey, harshly stuffed
down the library return box;
hungry, frostbitten, frightened,
and hopelessly alone,
accepted his rescue
with purpose and grace.
He, the adopted one,
exercised his self-appointed duty
of greeting every patron
of the small-town library
for nineteen years.
His “live in the moment”
magic touched the world
and won my heart.
Fiddle de dee and me nor comprehend..it's price! it's weight! Then again..
I'm going forlorn so gift this quick, Tucker the Mouse, let's read between!
The day came at the subway and pretending saved none from need of money.
Mother! How could you've known?..
Father, I suppose each to their own!
Fiddle de dee and please understand..it's life! it's paid! Then again..
I'm slowing for more so gift this quick, Tucker the Mouse!
Play your games, find your solitary ways that they may release such prayers unto cats.
Cricket In Times Square, the
Jonathan Michael Conlon
A cat is a singer
Always on key.
A cat is a tourist,
With the world to see.
A cat is a guard;
A protector of the night.
Sometimes, a teddy bear,
To make the dark alright.
A cat is a sailor!
(Though her ship never nears the sea!)
A cat is a conversationalist
The ideal companion for tea.
A cat is a doctor,
For every sickness, an aid.
Often an illusionist
Into thin air she will fade.
A cat is royalty
Her every need must be met!
A cat is a protector
(Of her rules that must be kept!)
A cat is a critic.
The food is never right!
A cat is a boxer;
She can put up a fight!
A cat is a lover, a tyrant, a clown.
You don’t need to vote her president,
She’s always leader of her town!
A cat is a pain.
A pain in the you-know-where!
“After all I’ve done for her!” You think.
“After all that love and care?”
But a cat is also God’s gift:
A miracle from above!
So when the sky falls on you
She will be there to share her love!
A cat is an actress;
She always steals the show!
A cat is a know-it-all,
She’s learnt everything there is to know!
A cat is a dramatist.
The star of every act.
But a cat is,
Of all things,
The cat took its paws off my tongue
I broke my silence
I broke, the yolk is the anger in the white
Do cats have favorite food
I hope the cat returns
O I hope it comes tonight
For I am black and invisible in the night
But my voice, my voice
This poem shall be heard that I write
With the point of a thousand stars
With the white milk of a thousand galaxies
Milk of surrogate mothers
Milk of white England, Europeans and Americans
My voice will drink this milk and sing
And sing the bitterness I taste
I will spit
The way you spit on my race
The way you spit in my face
Because you thought your light was so bright
I would not see
My own misery
Was rooted in your false kindness to me
Was rooted in this hatred
Of a color
From the beginning of the world
When God stepped out
And changed it with the coming of the light
Tonight I write
Longer than the month of days
The love of liberation
The bridge to the better days
My poem is not revenge
I am searching for catharsis here
Something to make truth
Vomits up itself
And foul the feathered air
Around the corner
The old black cat he's taken a nap.
At the house around the corner.
Getting ready to play his game this very night.
For he'll hide out of sight around the corner of the house
Ready to scare you in to a fright.
He'll hide out of the light in the dark of night.
Then jump, at you with a scary meow.
Then off he runs around to the next corner to hide once more.
You hear the dog bark to warn you but out the cat comes like a bolt of lighting
To scare you as you round the corner to yell Trick or treat.
The old cat he plays this game this Halloween night at the house around the corner.
The kids they all enjoy see the old black cat have his fun.
So the go around the corner just to see him there.
I know a place where many people would like to visit but cant. I know a place where a lot
of people don’t know I go. I go to this place when no one can get a hold of me. This place
is full of music, it got vivid bright colors. The music plays all the time. I have a
husband with no face and kids with no faces. But lately those faces are blurry. Getting
clearer, at least for the husband it does. The colors though, bright and beautiful, show
all the meaning in this place I go to. The blue so blue that its bluer than the ocean.
Bluer than my eyes and yours as well. The house is built just to my liking. The cat walks
by and looks up at me and meows. The dog barks in the back ground, the fish makes bubbles,
and the kids giggle in the other room. I’m in the kitchen cleaning and making dinner while
I hear the TV on in the living room and he’s playing a game while talking to the giggling
kids. I walk in there to see the colors on the screen of the computer as beautiful the
ones I see. The red of the shirt he is wear and the blonde of his hair. The giggle that
pierces my thoughts and I turn to see the little girl all full of joy. The couch ruby red
just like the ruby I wear around the neck. The diamond on my finger is shinier that I've
ever seen. The earrings in my ears dangle around my neck. Then the cry of the little boy
needing his diaper changed laying on the dark emerald green blanket with the yellow
giraffe on it. In walks the sandiest of brown and white dogs with so much energy that her
face looks like its almost smiling. The cat comes in from the other door and rubs
affectionately on the little girl whose laugh punctured my thoughts just moments before. I
look back at the little boy on the couch whose cries now have punctured these thoughts. I
turn and walk over to him. I pick him up and say why you crying my little man. His tears
fade and a smile comes to his face. In this place I'm finally me and I'm finally happy
again. This is my place and no one can take it from me.
and it came to pass
that the cat stopped chasing foxes
on moonlit tin roofs
for it had dawned upon him
that it was not in the order of things.
and so he prowls in cool shadows,
stalking imaginary butterflies.
for now the cat is content
(12 may 79)
I remember when you came to me,
a slinky sleek bundle of fur and muscle,
dashing, daring, purring, and pouncing,
testing the limits and the patience of all,
playing in the morning, playing at night,
sliding on the carpet,
never sleeping, never stopping,
You burned so brightly in my life,
lighting our world with toys and tests,
talking and jumping,
clawing and pouncing,
nurturing your elder, nurturing me,
comforting and consoling,
kissing away tears and trials,
soothing and slinky.
You grew and grew,
first up, then out, so round,
laser pointers -- who cares,
contentment in a jolly round ball,
with your big belly inviting the pet,
the rub, the snuggle, the cuddle,
my pillow, my gentle living big and warm,
Toy mice as babies, carried through the house,
surprises in my shoe, was that a joke,
laughing at me or laughing with me,
slipping on your gifts,
midnight tripping on the dark floor lump,
not malicious, laughing with me I decide,
with delightful sparkle eyes,
Years pass and you burn less brightly,
sixteen candles and nine lives gutter,
the weight falls away, the attention span,
bones and skin, but always love,
always pur, happy to be,
my friend, my buddy,
my cat named dog.
Your flame fades,
and I miss you already, Pooch.
A babys crawl picks up lint and grime
she sits and inspects her hands
picks away the mitten yarn and rubs
her hands on her legs
The wary cat just close behind
has toys to offer share
This cat is baby's mothers cat
and more than a little aware
that mother will give extra time and treats
to baby's cat
as log as wary cat remains
no cat in the hat
Sitting there all lazy the little furry pussy cat
purrs with happiness.
Her coat is a collage of black, white and browns
all a ball of fur.
She has just had her tuna
so it’s now lazy time all night long.
So, you had a bad day
Things are looking grey
Pelts of rain hitting on
Your kitchen window pane.
The cat has caught a mouse.
She could be getting lice.
You microwave your dinner
That was frozen, very nice.
Your girlfriend's got the flu,
Say's she's not so close to you.
Flick on the TV
And wait until she's through.
Order out your dinner.
Invite inside some friends.
The cat there yawns and stretches
While palaver never ends.
The time has moved along.
You're tired once again.
Things are looking grey. . .
In the Temple of the Same.
Back from the zombie
Who can I become
Kat speaks to me in
“Get off your butt,
My heart has been
twisted and rung
Like perhaps a
Void of its essence.
And how am I to go
A volumnless and
broken thing -
Waiting till I hope
Even no guarantees
Zombie Apocalypse II
I coax and coo in
I use when I want,
When I want things
to be better.
Who am I to have an
How that could
Guss and I are
Together like one
In a large firm
Where sleep is the
And I am afraid of
I cannot see and
do not know.
It is a test,
And I need you to
make it through
The illusion of yes
And your soft,
Pressed against my
stomach and back
Is all I know right
And that is not even
I have a Kitten
His name is Alex
He has a mustache
He is black and white
And small and skinny
He gets his baths
Once every two months
He does not like them
I do understand that
He is a little demon
Always getting into trouble
Strewing yarn everywhere
Cute and silly
Simple and loving
We call him Al
My little kitten
Whose name is Alex.
A skunk wanted to be treated
Just like all the other cats
He brainstormed and finally thought
Of a way to get him as liked
He would have to change his appearance
To make himself look like a cat
The only problem with this idea
Was how to go about this transformation
He finally determined that he would fly
To go up to the sky and reach thin air
Hoping that this occurrence would work
Where being near space would scare
All of the stripes right off his coat
And shrink down his tail
Thus making him a cat for once
He took off into the upper atmosphere
Riding on a rocket, waiting for that moment
When the transformation will occur
The rocket reached the top
Then it started to go quickly down
He noticed nothing happened
To his beautiful illustrious coat
Now the rocket was traveling down fast
He forgot about this drawback
Of the horrendous failed trip
Just before the rocket and the skunk
Hit the bottom of the Earth
The Skunk was so frightened
That his entire coat turned white
Somehow, miraculously, the skunk
And the rocket stopped right at
Seven inches before hitting ground
The skunk got off and walked proudly
Towards the cat lover’s house
Then the master came out of the dwelling
And the woman saw the skunk
And screamed, just then the skunk
Instinctually sprayed the house
For once a skunk always a skunk
He does only what he knows how
Small boxes, tall boxes,
flat boxes, fat boxes,
boxes of any shape or size,
they're obsessed with boxes.
They climb inside plastic bags,
in suitcases when we're packing,
into drawers if left open,
in closets and behind doors.
But mainly, in boxes.
We don't dare leave a box
sitting around, unattended;
they hop right in as if to say
"OK, this is mine."
What is it, with cats?
They're such box freaks.
It would have been appropriate to tell
The good news to a peacock
But I told the turkey instead
"I am getting a little brother"
The turtle doves seemed glad for me
Cooing like turtles I thought at the time
The cat seemed disinterested
Purring solitary in the windowsill
The dog suddenly looked at me
Pushing the ball to my feet
“Jumping steroids,” I thought, looking at the Jack
My friend came over and I told him
"Mother is bringing home our baby”
Belinda now present seemed glad for me
She brought a blanket for him
"I needled it with my own hands," she bragged
Cooing like the doves I knew she was a sweet girl
Turtle face and wise my friend warned me
"She is out to get you, she only wants to get cute with you
Little babies you see?”
"Jealously makes you ugly," I screamed at him
And chased him out of the yard
That afternoon mother returned home without a baby
She cried like a peacock and I inquired back like a turkey
The doves got so distraught by the news
That they pushed their harvest of life out of the nest
The cat smiled and the dog fell asleep on the carpet
My friend wanted to collect me
Shooting birds but I said, "not now buddy"
Belinda looked at me and she was so cute with an idea I entertained
"Let us make a baby for Mother "
a rough, loud place
there is an ALDI bag,
i am curious,
i hop the fence, i pick up the bag,
i'm a little scared,
the bag is now untied
a little black and white kitten
runs out into my arms,i cry, and take her home,
we call her Sally,
she is now safe,
and in a loving home
she is my cat , and i love her
she is my cat , Sally
--Before meeting with her father & sisters, Cordelia is dealt a card depicting Woodwose by
Mor-Ríoghain, in the guise of a gypsy hag.
As my sister's once-beautiful gray cat looks at me
She wasted now by a thyroid condition
I wonder what she sees in me today.
I think it would be nice to have a cat
Too bad I'm so allergic
Worse case of it we ever seen
They said at Walter Reed
And they'd given me just half a dose
On the arm during the allergy test
As I had warned '˜em.
I wouldn't want a house cat
A cat should be out-of-doors
In a barn killing mice and vermin
Stalking song-birds and eliminating
The timid humor of the chipmunk
A tiny lion.
The sweetest thing I ever saw
Was a particoloured tabby
Crouched on a lawn
A tiny lion for sure
A beautiful hunting stalking machine.
She had a bell around her neck
And it was funny
This middle class hausfrau attempt
To deprive Tabby not of her powers
But of her reward.
They belled you, my tiny lion
So they could claim your rewards.
But you are courageous, nimble,
And you fear no pain.
With your jackrabbit hind legs
And your fierce forepaws
You manipulated the
Constraining leather collar,
Yanked and pulled and pushed
Yourself away from the executioner's yoke;
Impossible but that's your genius
To do what can't be done.
And when it was over
Your neck scratched and bleeding
Drying blood stiffening the matted fur
Your coat no longer lustrous due to the
Enormity of your labour
You lay in the grass on your side
One eye glancing a peal-less heaven at an oblique angle
Over the tops of trees dancing together in a flying grove
Their purpose forgotten by the once-born.
They thought they could defeat you
And you vowed after surviving your small Shoah
The black cat leaps across the road
It's worst enemy snapping at it's heels
Wounded cat pulls itself across the white line
Too late, hind legs dragging lifelessly behind
Half filled with life and the will to survive
Half dead and broken
Struggling to survive, his blood spills as does human
Life leaks out
The body lies in ICU
The life still beating through her
The life, machines provide
Thoughts are gone
As good as dead
The life is pumped in
Serial killer caught in the act
The priest grasps hold on the gun
The killer is dead
Long black robes rustle in the wind
Praying over the body
The priest's cross breaks from his neck
Lands on the bloodied dirt
Gods work with Satans sword
The Child is saved
Sitting cross legged on an upturned bucket
Back sagging against stubborn rough barked old maple
Edges of soles twisting socked feet from worn shoes
Plastic circled reinforcing cutting patterns into buttocks
The shade combined with sudden breeze refreshes
As it cools the sweat wet faded tie dyed tee shirt
Holding the wet cold bottle dripping onto a bare knee
He squints toward the ever present cat pretending to ignore him
These are the long hot days of late Summer
The grass is high and green in places flat and brown in others
Cloth has worn and torn from the backyard golf course poles
Putting is easier on the dried moss greens
Soon the vegetable garden will wither and dry
To reveal at least a dozen lost balls
The surrounding swamp is less forgiving
The ice cold water slides to cool his innards
The cat stretches to lick dusty fur
The pool sirens tauntingly beckon
I am writing this poem for you, but
I don’t know you.
I don’t know what you hate or
love, -white, red, black, blue
up, down, sideways –I just don’t know!
So, I will pick a broad subject
People, yes -maybe even you! You, you, you!
I will write this poem for you and about you!
“You,” you are a person? Right!
There are billions of people on this planet,
tall ones, short, old, young,
fat ones, skinny ones,
some in good health some ill.
Some will die while I write this and
while you read it some will be born.
We are all the same, people are people but
we don’t think alike, look alike, or talk alike.
Some of us love each other, others hate everyone;
most do both unequally –we choose what we think,
and we think differently.
You are smart, you can read
(many can’t,) and you are reading my poem
that is interesting to me.
It shows you have great taste.
You are perfect, smart, good taste, interesting
and I bet you are even sexy.
I bet “You” are too large a subject
for one poem, too complicated, too complex,
so, I will write about my cat instead,
a car ran him over yesterday
he is dead; and I have
a half can of cat food in a plastic bag
in my fridge,
useless and taking-up space.
Off to Kaduna my mind flies,
Off to Zaria my soul first alighted,
Gently ! Gently !! Gently !!!
Echoes the man behind the wheel.
He trudges on day-dreaming
Concerned not about our hues over cries
His pace was like that of a snoring bush pig.
We yawned , jawed but move up
Our faces full of displeasure
The Lagos lady banker took him up
As Alhaja and Alfas added flavour
Can he ever gear up even without bump?
Nothing changes his old leopard nature
I tried spice it up when I woke up
But to the face of him I met no favour
As he shrug off, and belt up
He returned to his snail-crawling seizure.
At the abysmal of his mind
He must be feigning fulfillment
Cat-walking at a speedometer of a tortoise
Fast like an archaic “Loko” train.
To the driver whose forehead reads . . .
And whose lips echoes endlessly
“Its better to be late than to be a late”
For a Life is duplicated not
Nothing is as sweet as cat walking
Snail-pacing in all sojourns.
Alayande Stephen. T
21st ,July, 2006.
En-route my way to an NCP meeting in
Kaduna, the luxurious Marcopolo boarded
Merely cat walked all thorough.
Red silk drapes,
frame this window
dominates this space
Snow falling outside,
softened in white,
part of the big freeze
I am in my room
lined with books,
break up the gloom
Crackle of wood,
lighting up the room so
I'm glad you came......
In to my room
This high ceiling,
All this gold leaf,
Tapestries of rich green and gold
keep out this cold
where you sat,
the fireside cat
These old paintings
broodingly look down
with measured frown
In my room,
a map of the world
In my room............
my life unfurled
In my room,
away from doom and gloom
All out side,........white
All inside .........quiet
In my room,
tall silver candlesticks shine,
with steady flame
on wood so
I'm glad you came
Soft scent of pine,
as we drink the red wine,
from crystal so fine,
In my room,
illuminating the gloom
soft and white
as a matter of fact.
I am not a poet.
I promise you that.
So then you ask, why are you here,
Where rhyming and rhythming people are near?
And then I will answer, to your nosing mouth.
That poetry's art, that's what I'm about.
I like craftily putting big words together,
and making bad emotions seem better.
Enjoyment is mine, when I see I have written,
something where my ambition is hidden.
Well crap, I really just wanted to say that.
I'm gonna go buff my cat.
And burn my hat.
And hit my shiny cat into my flaming hat...with a bat.
I bet that cat is fat.
He did bad things with rats.
I hid his ashes under the mat.
Then I pulled down my pants and shat....on the mat...on my shiny cat in the
A red bird lands to rest
Upon a tree branch.
The red bird chirps
For his sibling,
The cat takes notice, quietly
It watches his prey,
The cat figure it had his
Slowly the cat takes aim
And leaps for the red bird.
The red bird takes flight to
To join his sibling.
The cats loses,
But the red bird lives to chirp
Chirp another day..
The cat meow while his stomach
The cat watches for another
Chance to feed his hungry
So, the cat meows hoping
For a meal,
To cure his empty stomach..
Eyes shone bright,
And the furs were dull,
They had alert ears,
And jumping paws,
The litter was playful,
They rallied around their mother,
As she protected her brood,
They were after all still half or less cats,
They had no courage to venture,
So they pawed an ant or a fly,
In more of play than to fit their bill,
They fed or were fed,
I could not observe,
Neighbourhood kids had tied neck tethers,
In play and kept them so,
This was years back when I was home,
Years later when I did return,
I had forgotten the cat family,
Till I saw the tether around the neck of a full cat,
She was all by herself ,
And in the trade pretty active at that,
I thought by myself,
It was not only me as a human who had led life,
But the cat had had a full life too,
She was brought to adulthood,
And trained to fend for herself,
In fact she was probably,
Looking to have family of her own now,
Voila all societies do survive,
Ours as well as theirs.