(Why I'm Still Breathing)
When the cow was dry, she was compliant.
When she calved, she turned vicious
and no fence could hold her,
but she gave milk in abundance,
and Dad refused to sell her.
She chased Mother 'round and 'round the barn
until Mom panicked, climbed the corner logs,
and perched under the roof,
clinging like a cicada shell on a weed-pod.
Beasty pawed and bellowed until Dad came home.
"I could gain on her on the corners,"
Mother said, "because I could turn faster,
but she gained on me on the straightaway."
Plug-ugly tore through the fence,
into the garden, where Mom and I worked.
"Run, Cona Faye, run," my mother shouted.
How did she know? The cow passed Mother
and thundered straight for me. I ran.
At the fence, snorts filled my ears. Hot breath
steamed my back. I saw myself stomped,
pulverized into the dirt. I turned, screaming
at full volume, and flailed my arms
like a windmill in a strong wind.
That old red cow locked her front legs
and skidded like a freight train on full brake.
I seized the moment, and scaled that rail fence.
Copyright © Cona Adams
In a land far away was a family with two boys
The oldest loved sports the youngest only toys.
You should be like your big brother the father would always say
It’s time for you to toughen up and leave this childish play.
Yes Quinton was a fighter, loved games of every sort,
But nothing did he want to do more than play a sport.
Daniel he was meek and mild a softie like his mother
He hated when his dad would say, “Be more like your brother.”
Hurt and down he took a walk up on a rocky hill
Throwing stones hard at the water, he let his anger spill.
Why doesn’t my dad love me? Into the air he cried,
Kicking rocks with fists curled, tight against his side.
Meanwhile on an island far across the sea
A leader spoke to the animals, almost like a plea.
Legends say a leader from mainland shall appear
A strong and faithful warrior, a boy that has no fear.
How shall we find this man child? Asked the animals out loud,
We’ve never seen a human said a yearling really proud.
The Albatross said strong and brave, I will bring him here
I know he isn’t very far, I feel his presence near.
The bird flew out across the sea searching high and low
Wondering where he’d find him, the boy they needed so.
There; high up on a hill side a warrior stood so tall,
He knew it was the chosen one, for he could hear him call.
Now in a flash he swooped down, grabbed Daniel real fast
The albatross was thinking, I’ve found the boy at last.
Daniel he was screaming as he dangled by one leg
Flying over water yelling let me go I beg.
As they neared the island, the animals all gathered round
Watching as the big white bird, let their hero down.
Welcome said a racoon, we’ve waited here so long
Today we’ll have a party, let’s fill the woods with song.
They sat all night telling horrible tales of an enemy they feared
And all felt a little safer now that Daniel had appeared.
I’m not the hero you think I am, there’s been a bad mistake
And a little bunny looked at him, you must be for my sake.
Daniel fell in love that night with all his new friends here
None of them made him feel bad, they made him feel so dear.
For their sakes I must beat this foe, an enemy, a disgrace
Making sure he never comes back to this peaceful place.
For days they planned together, what everyone would do
And when the varmint showed up they stood up to him too.
Instead of running and hiding, they stood together tight
The badger lost the battle and ran home fast that night.
The wise old owl thanked Daniel for ridding the beast at last
Conquering their worst enemy, who now is in the past.
On wings of love the hero left his friends on the islands strand
When Daniel went back home that day, he had become a man.
The moral of my story? With a little love and trust,
Everyone can be a hero, we are more than clay and dust.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Carol Eastman’s Contest:
Fable to the Rescue
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans
Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...
Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out to be confusing here,
but I just need to write this, release something, in some way
Although I must admit, this is not exactly what I had in mind to write for this day,
hopefully I can write something more decent later...
I have been wanting to write something for my brother since yesterday,
since February 26 is his 10th year death anniversary.
The words remained stuck in my heart, 'til I fell asleep.
Visited him again today, heard mass for him,
ate a Chinese dinner with my parents and sister, went home.
I now needed dessert. Got a piece of Ferrero Rocher, but just one wouldn't do.
So I got a piece of Almond Roca this time and ate it while walking.
All this time, I have managed to keep my tears away
but maybe somehow, someway, if tears want to fall, they will find a way?
I walk to that area again as I ate that piece of chocolate-
when what do you know, what do you know??
I stepped on a lizard. Again
Yes. Almost exactly the Same area, tail falls off, and the lizard skitters away.
But. I did not slip this time. But, yes, I still screamed, scaring everybody again.
I. Could. Not. Simply. Believe. IT.
One month and 25 days after, I step on a lizard. Again.
Today, of all days. As if I needed more reason to be sadder.
This time around, I had the sense to try to find that lizard.
I had to know if it lived, if it was okay.
I pushed away the nearby cabinet.
And there it was.
Rather, and there they were.
The lizard that I stepped on now
and the petrified remains of the lizard that I stepped on on new year's day...
the other one didn't live after all :(
I know it was that lizard, same area, no tail, who else could it be?
Survival mechanism, no match for my killer foot.
By this time, I am crying, sobbing.
Seriously, the tears just start falling, and my heart so heavy.
And I know it's from the combination of so many things.
The day itself, what I had just done, just things running through me.
What broke my heart, was to see that lizard.
I was wearing rubber shoes this time, last time I was wearing slippers.
And its guts had spilled from its sides.
I couldn't help but keep on saying, "Oh, oh, oh lizard, I am so sorry"
I touched it feebly, and it was literally gaping its mouth.
I don't think I can ever forget that?
Such a small creature, gasping, with its insides out,
its skin on its legs and body scraped.
And it was all my fault.
My sister was there with me, trying to help in her own way.
But yes, there's nothing you can really do...I didn't want to stress it even more,
and let death finish what I did.
There's so much I can glean from this, and I want to ramble on, so badly
but I will try to stop myself from rambling too much.
I put the two lizards, along with a note, the dates when I stepped on them
(ok, killed them), and placed them carefully in a chocolate truffle box.
I buried them and still feel so sorry.
In some ways, this is can be so funny, and just freaky & crazy (what's new, this is me?)
What were the odds??? Same place, same thing happening.
And I can't help but roll my eyes at myself as well, just finding it so hard to fathom
how I stepped on not just one but Two lizards in just two months.
I bet that the lizards are all afraid of me now,
saying how I am a lizard killer. A serial lizard killer.
MO: stepping on them while screaming, maybe my screams also killed them off?
I actually took photos of both lizards, I am not sure why though.
Oh dear God, help me, I am acting like one, even documenting them.
I tell you, as I watched that lizard die, I couldn't help but just also
think of St. Jude (for the impossible) and St. Francis of Assisi (for animals).
I know he was dying, but somehow, yes, prayers still comfort me.
I just feel so guilty, with this happening.
I still can't help but cry for those lizards, death by me, for no reason at all,
no purpose served.
I know it's all a part of life...
but it still doesn't change the fact how death can change us
and of how I am responsible for two lizard deaths.
I know they were just small animals, but Still. They were living creatures.
Death can change us in small ways, some in big ways, negatively or positively.
It all boils down to death transforming us one way or another...
I won't expound on it anymore, this is too long,
but one of the ways I can think of comparing it to, is that of a chemical change,
maybe of the spirit, the soul? Not merely a physical change.
And we can never be the same.
Copyright © binibining P.iNk
A most unfortunate event
has occurred at our house.
It's embarrassing to admit,
We have a resident mouse.
The elusive little devil
has avoided every trap.
Though set in various places,
we've yet to hear a snap.
We have a playful tomcat
who loves his toy mouse,
carries it clutched in his teeth
to flip, toss and pounce.
Unfortunately, he performs
the same with a live one.
I'm urging, "Get it, kill it,"
he's too busy having fun.
Again and again he turns
it loose, enjoying the chase.
The mouse runs for his life,
hopeful of winning the race.
The crafty little victim
eludes the slothful brute,
scuttles down a heat vent,
leaves Tom to other pursuits.
Whereupon he saunters around,
searching for his toy mouse.
We're left with a useless cat
and a mouse in the house.
Copyright © Cona Adams
I'm sitting cross legged on the side of the road
while Dad holds my shoulders, in trying to console me,
but tears, uncontrolled, keep tumbling down.
Most stunning, right now, is the fear, I've not known
Never before, .....had I felt so alone.
Reality has settled, like darkness around me
A first-time encounter with death and it's toll
Though, how many times, I have played out the role?
It was always the same.....
Just a game to be played
The drama? Just kid's-stuff.....who knew what it meant?
Bang, Bang you're dead!...
Point a finger .... he's dead
A stab, rubber swords, ... at my eight year old heart ?
While slowly, with drama, I played out the part
Death scenes, just play. I would take my last breath
Then, I was back on my knees, and up in a flash
Ready again, to reverse all the rules......
Death wasn't real........and never so cruel
Tonight, driving home
a deer out of nowhere,
A thump, and a jar, a flash in the light
And in the dash of a moment, ....a crumpling crash
Make-believe shatters, with the lights of our car
Dad reaching his hand, to check I'm alright
Then opens the door out into the night
Reluctantly I follow his somber silhouette
And met by a moment I'll never forget
The air is bitter cold, and takes all my breath
I want to turn my eyes away, but now it's too late
I've seen lifeless eyes stare back, in the lights
I'm hypnotized by silence, and the shattering sight
as still and cold, as real as if stones,
Two lifeless eyes, stare into the night
I feel such a change in the stars and the sky
I felt something die, in a child's heart tonight
For Trashed #2 Contest: Sponsor: Broken Wings
Copyright © Carrie Richards
(A Fable in a Poetry Form)
Once there was a lively bee
Flying on the lake so free
He stop on a certain flower
That seems to grow each and every hour
He went near and nearer to it
Smeeling every petals so sweet
He turned to it 'round and around
And oh! Then found butterfly on the ground
It lies there as if no life
Under the heat of the sunlight
He flies to it 'round and around
And what's this? the butterfly make no sound.
The bee wondered what to do
He think everything he could do
He tried to wake the butterfly
At last it moved slowly and tried to fly
"I can't fly"said the butterfly
"My wings are so tired and weak."
"I could help you fly" said the bee to butterfly
"And help you a place and comfort to seek."
But the bee is to small to fly
He couln't carry the butterfly
At last he think a good idea
That'll help them both went above to fly
The bee flew and went to his place
And called every companions at pace
He came back with the other bees
Carried the sleeping butterfly at peace
When the butterfly was awake
She remembered every moments in lake
She called out for a feast
Invited each and every bees as a guest
Then the lake went colorful
All the flowers bloom from gloom
Then the bees are full of laughter
They and the butterfly unite forever.
Moral Lesson: It doesn't matter what you are and who you are and what's the difference between you and the other person. As long as you help one another, you will live happily forever after.
Copyright © Angelo Faunillo
Things seems to be very clear,
When actually felt it is unclear,
What really seems to be clear,
May never ever be clear for ever.
Your help for others,
May be to be appreciated,
Or taken as what is called,
to be uncounted.
My question is clear,
Why the help for others,
Is sometime never appreciated,
However it is always delivered.
In response to ethics,
lingers in my mind the answer,
To help others is not to be recognised,
But it is to be called someone,
Who can be respected.
To all, continue to help,
Not to to be appreciated by others,
But to be respected by yourself.
Copyright © Balbir Singh
I passed a squirrel
on a two-lane back road
that a car had run over
Some rule was broken...
Its front legs scratched and scraped
at the pavement but it was stuck
like glue, flat on the asphalt
Its head was bobbing
up and down, side to side
(Surely there was no pain?)
Damn it ALL, you little...
Slammed on the brakes
skidded to the side of the road
made an illegal 3 point turn
Returning to the scene of the crime,
I crushed the head of God’s creation
turning it into fresh buzzard food
turning it back home to its Creator
This creature did not have it coming
This creature did not deserve it
This creature was as good or better
than me or any other human being
God's child minded its business
God's child never hurt anyone
God's child of Nature's symphony
might have done the same for me
God's child had no clue
it was crossing a road
or even what a road was
but I did…
Copyright © Tim Ryerson
The dog looks pleasant, desperate for praise
It shivers in the cold, tied to a chair
It cannot go far.
It's owner, holding a cigarette, pours some crumbs from a used bag
A treat for the dog.
The crumbs go unnoticed, for the dog looks up at the passers-by
desperate for praise and attention.
Copyright © Kristopher Curran
Pussy cats love to be loved
To feel the warmth of your body
To feel the stroking of your warm hand
If there is such a thing as kitty heaven
It's when they feel your love
Could just as easily be a stranger from the street
As long as they can provide Miss Kitty
With the love she is so desperately looking for
Kind of like us humans, aren't they
We most definitely love to be loved
To feel the warmth of another body
We also call it heaven
Except the bit about a stranger from the street
Now let me think about that a little more
Perhaps I'm a wee bit more selective
And then again, maybe not
Pussy cats love to be loved
And so does this dude!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Copyright © Jack Ellison
Ana Cecilia Callejas
Rodrigo Perez Gavilan
The Bad King
“Lexer” was a lion who was the King of the entire animal kingdom, during his reign all the animals lived in complete harmony, they were all happy and graceful, and Lexer takes care of them and protects them. One day “Lexer” and his wife had an adorable baby lion that was named “Dylan” as he grew up Lexer teached him a lot of things since he was going to be the heir of the animal kingdom. Dylan also made a lot of friends but his best friend was Jim. Dylan and Jim spend almost all the days together, as the time passed Jim started to hang out with the Rhinos, which were the bad ones of the kingdom. Jim turned into a bad lion and started to incite Dylan to make bad things and he became also a bad lion. One day lexer got very sick and a few days later he passed away so Dylan became the king. All the animals were very sad because they loved Lexer he has been so far the best ruler of the animal kingdom. Time passed and Dylan forgot all the good things his father taught him and started to become a bad lion and a bad king. Influenced by Jim and the Rhinos that were friends with Jim Dylan started to do bad things. He put animals to fight between each other just for their amusement and had some of the animals as slaves just to be his servants, he also ordered other animals to kill so he can eat and have feasts, and this caused a lot of panic in the entire animal kingdom. Dylan mother tried to make him reconsider and change, to do all the good things his father taught him for him to be a good king but Dylan just became worse. All this caused that the animals lost his confidence towards the king and started to live just with the ones of their own kind and also began to fight with all the other animals to survive. This caused that the world became a bad place and since that moment the harmony did not existed anymore and the animals had to take care on their own.
Moral of the fable: if you are a good person and you have good values don’t let anyone to influence you and change the way you are.
Copyright © Ana Callejas
Hear it chugging and tasle
The sun has gone down
Twilight, is still not dark
Small steps ... chugging and tasle
The dog is standing still
Sniffing and listening
Sounds comes closer
A small ball comes out of the bushes
My favorite toy, the dog thinking
Sticking her nose up ..... but ...
The ball is full of sticking spines
it makes a hissing sound
Hedgehog will not play with the dog
A-L Andresen :) - This is my dog "Maya" :))
(5th in the contest)
Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen
I fly in the sky
I swim in the sea
I sleep in the night
And in the trees I live
The forest once was my home
That I always cherished
For me and every one
Who lived on this beautiful heaven?
Coming into the flame of fire
Together with my family
Helps me to remember and tell to all
That has caused the dead of all?
Came five days ago
Three to four men
With something in there mind known as the plan
To destroy what was known as our home
Came few men
After few days
To destroy us all together with the forest
To clear the land
They lighted the fire
They parked some big bulldozers
To clear the trees and removes the stones
After everything is burnt by the flames of the fire
Together with my family
Praying to the god as one
To forgive our sin
And tell the reason for this everything
Nothing I heard from up
But something from down
As few men said
For the development, let happen this destruction
Copyright © Balbir Singh
He stood and aimlessly watched the parade of patrons and volunteers that wandered daily past his kennel. All so familiar, so ordinary. Just like every other day he mused. Nothing new. Nothing special.
Moving to the small crumpled blanket near the back of his cage, he turned several times and finally curled up, head on his paws, positioned so that he could watch the activity around him. But in reality, he was bored. It had been a long time since he had met each morning with anticipation. Too many days. Too much disappointment. He would leave all that barking and racing to the front of their cage to the younger pups who hadn’t figured out yet that the cute ones went first. It didn’t really make any difference what you did to attract attention if you weren’t young or cute, or both.
Too much time had gone by to participate in the charade. In reality, Walter had seen a lot of people that he would rather not spend a lot of time with. You know the type. Kind of hyper, bouncing from stray to stray, looking for a perfect dog. Kids poking their fingers through the kennel screen or banging on it. Some even making barking sounds. He didn’t need any of that and was glad when they were gone.
Walter was very picky. Set in his ways after so many years. He had had it good for a long time. An only dog in a household of two people that let him be himself. No tricks. No stunts. Just long naps and daily walks. A yard to himself to reflect on what was for dinner. He had been fond of his doggy bed in their bedroom. Each night he would help his owner walk through the house turning off the lights and checking the doors before they climbed the stairs together. And there was always one last good night pat before settling down.
But those days were gone now. First one had become ill and went to the hospital and never came back. The other one changed overnight, spending long days, sitting mostly. The walks became less frequent. Walter did what he could. He could see it in their eyes that they were hurting from their loss. He would make a point of laying his head in their lap, trying to let them know that he missed them too. At times like this, he instinctively knew that although it remained unsaid, they only had each other.
He remembers well the day that his owner snapped a leash on him and said, “well Walter, I’m afraid we have to say goodbye. I have to go to a place where they won’t let me keep you, so I am going to have to let you go.” Walter could see the tears in his eyes. He knew it would do him no good to whine or resist. It was obvious there were no alternatives. And besides, it would just make it harder on his owner. But he was going to miss him. It was not going to be easy to adjust.
But adjust he did. He had been here a long time now and had seen countless pups and dogs trot past his cage with light hearts and new owners, heading off with new found hopes and expectations. But it soon became obvious that there weren’t a lot of people that wanted an old yellow hound. Everyone wanted the young ones. So here he lay, dozing a bit, but still keeping an eye on those walking by, many giving him but a glance before moving on.
He heard them before the saw them. ”Honey” the voice said. ”That looks like Walter, old Mr. Whitney’s dog.” Walters ears perked up a little. ”Do I know them” he thought. ”They seem to know me”. I’d better go take a closer look” and with that, he stood and slowly ambled toward his kennel gate, giving a cautious wag of his tail.
“It is him” the man said. ”Walter, how you doing boy? Do you remember me?”
And upon closer inspection, Walter did remember him. He used to live right across the street. He would see him in his yard and if Walter were to ramble over, he usually had a dog treat in his pocket. With the recognition, Walter gave a little stronger wag and moved toward the fingers extended through the fencing. It was good to see an old friend.
“What do you say hon” the man said. ”How would you feel about bringing Walter home with us?”
Walter looked at the woman and saw her nod in agreement. ”You wait here and I’ll go find a volunteer.”
The man bent down and said “What do you think Walter? Would you like to go home with us?”
Actually, Walter decided, he could think of nothing he would like more. A chance to go back to the old neighborhood with people he already knew. What was there not to like.
Soon the woman returned and the gate opened. A leash was snapped on Walter and together they proceeded past the rows of dogs and puppies, all vying for their attention. Walter couldn't help but stand a little straighter, stepping a little more lightly, showing off. ”This is what going home looks like guys.” he thought. ”Good luck and goodbye”.
As they neared the car the man said “I can’t believe we found you Walter. There is someone I am going to take you to see. I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when you walk in his room>”
Walter, of course, knew exactly who he was talking about. And he couldn't wait to see the expression on his face either.
Copyright © Bob Quigley
There was scent of a fire in the call of the wind
from a few blocks away, I could smell it today...
someone burning a pile, in this first day of fall
Leaves and debris, with smoke on the bend
It darkened the sky of the September light
with fragments of char, as dark as the night
It drifted our way, and into the breeze,
and it lifted the ash
that caught in the fray, bits fluttering down
then, onto our lawn, with fringes of gray
A scrap from the classifieds, of newspaper ads
A fragment, not burned, with a portion so sad
just a singe on the edge, on the fringe of my day
A scrap now was pending........and I dreaded the end
I read someone's query, and my worries were tossed
to the smoke-singed sureness, of a pet that had been lost
For those moments we had owned her, she was lost and alone
Hungry and howling, on that cold autumn day
It was a star-crossed encounter, a dachshund we had found
We would feed her, and bed her, had asked all around
and a with a few passing days.....she had found a new home.
Here in our hearts, becoming our own
A name we had chosen, she came when we called
but today ...now I know, she is not ours, at all...
The wind off the river, pushing paper and leaves
fragments of yesterday fluttering our way.........
Spinning on down, every twist, every turn
changing the moment......without being heard
Small bitter pieces are coming our way
changing small fragments, and the heart of today.
Copyright © Carrie Richards
"All animals are equal. But some animals are more equal than others."
A dozen of chickens and a number of horses, a cat and a raven, a few cows and other hoofed ones—all of which are perfectly silent. Poor wolfie. He can't even find a voice to growl. "Your Honor, if I may request for a short recess," I whisper, humiliatingly like a dying dragon. But my timid voice is drowned by a sly-looking pig's pouring of whisky into Dis Honor's gilded cup.
"Have you no respect or have you no eyes?" Squealing, he deafeningly squeals. He reminds me of that scaled wyvern whose head now sits in my living room. It roared deafeningly loud but breathed no fire. "His Honor is having his brief period of refreshment at the moment!"
With eyes too dry to cry and throat too hoarse to howl, the defendant meekly weeps. But only I hear it; the jury listens to only the silence, loud as a baby serpent's inaudible hiss, of two semi-digested pigs in his gut.
Who on earth build houses with flimsy hays or sticks nowadays anyway? And was it my client's fault that the third genius Doctor Porkchop got killed when some stray earthquake crushed his oh-so-unshakable fort built brick by bloody brick? Just whose brilliant proposal is it again to have Napoleon presiding the trial of the so-called Big Bad Wolf? If only he was a dragon—a pig-dragon at least— I would fain put the beauty that is my sword into good use right now.
Countless charges of premeditated murder, culpable animalicide, et cetera. Of course, do sentence us all to another life. I turn to look at the audience right behind me: a mare, a goat, a donkey. A soft motherly neigh followed by an intelligent baa, then by an astute silence.
"Please, Your Honor," Ridiculous. This stupid courtesy reminds me of tiptoeing past a mother Couatl guarding her eggs. "Shall we resume—"
Slams of gavel.
"Objection! Objection! Objection!" Dis Honor oinks vehemently, his mouth reeking of poorly brewed whisky—and I thought Tiamat's droppings were bad. The way he repeats the slamming of his gavel with every disgustingly pronounced objection gives me a headache as if it was my head he keeps hammering on. For the first time, being hit by the Basilisk's tail doesn't sound so bad at all. "Here you call me 'Your Honor Napoleon' in full," Oh, believe me, the honor is fully mine.
Copyright © Adam Adhistian
I stepped on a lizard on new year's day,
then I slipped and I screamed
and hit my shoulder on the fridge,
toppling the chair,
scaring people at home.
Ahhh, klutzy me on the first day of the year
it is funny, when I imagine
myself sprawled on the floor.
In all honesty,
it was the thought of
killing the lizard that horrified me,
the act of hurting it
feeling that squish,
bruising that flesh,
breaking the itty itty bones
how in the world can I step
on a lizard?!
imagine my sort of relief
to see the broken off tail
on the floor
thank God for survival mechanisms
the tail was still twitching,
another shorter piece fell off,
and yet I still wonder...
Is that lizard alive?
Did it actually make it?
Is it still hurting?
When will it heal?
Is it traumatized?
Was it pregnant?
I don't know why,
but that last question popped to mind
when I saw the shorter piece,
I even thought it was an egg...
I hope it's ok,
will be ok. I really do.
Sorry lizard, I truly am.
Copyright © binibining P.iNk
She curled her tail around her toes,
Covering whiskers, chin and nose.
An ear twitch here, another there;
She claimed as hers the easy chair.
Tormentor of both mole and mouse,
She spent the summer out of house.
Plundered, pillaged, night and day,
No mercy for dim witted prey.
Summer passed and then the fall,
As bitter cold left wintery pall.
The feline wanted none of that;
Once more she posed as family cat.
She lay about each day and night:
Purred when stroked and feigned delight.
Her bowl, her chair and toilet place,
Were all she claimed as sovereign space.
The season wore on long and cold.
Outside most life seemed put on hold.
The feline lay there still as dead,
Entombed within her winter bed.
Come now the spring with days of fair;
The old cat stretched within her chair.
A well placed nose near open sill;
She felt the much diminished chill.
Then rushed to door that still was closed.
Cries from her pleading throat arose.
Weaving through her mistress legs;
"Let me out," brash feline begged.
As chipmunk fed in hemlock crotch,
Unfettered cat dashed off the porch.
With one quick scramble up the tree;
A winter cat she ceased to be.
Do we not marvel at her grace,
Ere all those months confined in place?
The cat resumes with guileless ease,
Her summer reign of fields and trees.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre
Another boring, Protestant Traditional, Sunday Family Dinner 1:00 pm sharp
This week it’s at Uncle David’s house in Alford, Mass. I haven’t meant Him
Actually the only Family I met so far “Momma“, Poppa, and Big Sister Brenda
YOU probably thought I was going to say “Momma, Poppa, and Baby Bear
Went for a walk in the forest“. Sorry I’m reading Goldilocks while I’m trying to Write
Brenda ( B B ) , and I use to wonder why they had to be called Momma and Poppa ?!!
Pizza for dinner, on a Saturday night ,Baths, pajamas, robes, and slippers out to the car
Alright kids, It’s a 3 hour drive to Uncle Dave’s Let’s play “Grandma’s Suitcase”
The subject Grandma is infatuated with is her : LOVE of Animals
Harry you start, Grandma went on a vacation , in her suitcase she put an alligator
Brenda, “Grandma went on a vacation, in her suitcase she puts a female Baboon
“Poppa, it’s your turn, “Grandma went a vacation, in her Suitcase she put a Catamount
I challenge You Poppa, Mount is Mountain ,not Animal I brought my dictionary, Read;
The definition of catamount; a mountain lion, Cougar A feline animal born in nature
Harry your out of the game; “Momma” Your turn “ Grandma put in her suitcase The Devil”
Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire
Christy, Christafur Cat.
Was a southern cat.
His ancestors came from the south of Spain.
His Great, Great, Grandfather was a
venturesome Cat who came across the Seven Seas.
Not Long after that he met another southern
Cat This one from the heart of Georgia.
As the years came and went History was
recorded by some other Cats.
To which Christy, Christafur, Cat asks.
Why is that? How do you know that?
Can you prove that? Is that a fact?
My dear Christy, Christafur, Cat I
really don’t know. You are such a Loveable
Cat. That is that. YOU CAT!
John H. Hardison..
Copyright © John Hardison
I see through your naked soul,
like laser beam across spring waters.
thunder-strike my liverless matter,
with sight of thor-like spirit.
I grace the grassy Himalayas,
like emperor in a royal dynasty
And master of my canines,
for I am the Tibetan Mastif.
Copyright © tutuola michael
Sick of the monsters
that track my steps,
given the chance I'd
lay them to rest.
they trail my every
Gotta lose 'em
before the moon
Grab my carving set
and begin to think
attention- I get the
their frail skin,
I find the image of
blood in and on my
Cross-eyed and close
to the cliffs edge.
The moonlight sheds
time on the
and i drop my knife.
For they are me, I
was them, and soon
we will be together
Looking back it was
a full moon's end.
Copyright © Kris Lund
Cats and dogs are notorious for not getting along
You've heard the term, “fighting like cats and dogs”
Well our gorgeous female golden retriever, Annie
And our tomcat Curtis are the best of friends
While Zoe, our sweet wee female cat
Is constantly being harassed by these other two guys
I can understand Annie having a problem with Zoe
Both being high strung female types
With Curtis, it seems like a male dominance thingy
Zoe is the SWEETEST!
ALL she wants is to loved
She rolls over waiting for me to rub her belly
Or scratch behind her ears
What an absolutely adorable loyal friend!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison
pooh with the only tools of honey and smarts;
mickey with his best friend Donald,
oh! what a party to start.
the three wanted to celebrate the clubhouse opening;
so they started to cheer,
and started the music.
oh! what a good time they had!
everybody was glad;
but pooh became sad,
maybe, because it was the end.
but, later we found out,
he just ran out of honey.
so mickey said,"be happy don't pout."
Copyright © Donn Ronquillo
I am a big admirer of all large cats, one of my favourites being the Scottish Wild Cat.
It is one of the wildest of all cats and will fight to the death to protect its kitten even with a golden eagle. It avoids humans like the plague preferring to live a solitary life.
They have survived human for over 500 years longer than the wolf and over 1000 years more than the bear and british lynx. They have been on the planet for millions of years before either humans or domestic cats.
They look much like a tabby but gait like a big cat, males weigh between 6-9kg, females smaller 5-7kg. They have rotating wrists and razor sharp claws for gripping and climbing trees. Fossil remains have been found measuring 4 feet.
They can sprint at 30mph and fall from massive heights landing on their feet, they are a stealth hunter and mainly nocturnal covering up to 10km range. Even when born in captivity they are un-tamable.
They charge when fighting but don't lie on their sides like domestic cats.. Renowned for biting right through gauntlets vets dart if they have to handle them.
Wild Cats enjoy their own space and daily schedules. They like things to be peaceful so live as far from humans as possible. Usually heavily forested and near water, they frequently change dens.
They are a friend of crop farmers by keeping down rabbits etc. They only eat meat consuming most if not all of what they kill. Killing by grabbing prey and pulling it down then biting through either neck or spine.
Wild Cats like to fish by using their paws to scoop out fish, and like eels, lizards and frogs. Their other food is small deer, ground birds and hares, nowadays they rarely take a lamb seeming to know the farmer will try to kill them. Most Scottish farmers are proud to have a Wild Cat on their land.
Their night vision is exceptional about seven better than ours. They can rotate their ears 180 degrees enabling them to hear all around them. They then triangulate and pinpoint the source, and exceptional balance as well make it a super predator.
Some Facts taken ad lib
Mating season: January to March, most births in April to May
Oestrus: 2 to 8 days, in presence of males
Gestation: 63 to 68 days
Litter size: Mean 3.4, range 1 to 8
Age at independence: 4 to 5 months, up to 10 months
Age at sexual maturity: Females 10 to 12 months, males 9 to 10 months
Inter birth interval: one year, females can only exceptionally breed twice in one year, such as when the first litter is lost
Mortality: Studies suggest human caused mortality (snares, roads, gunshot) account for up to 92% of deaths
Longevity: Probably around 6 to 8 years in the wild, up to 15 years in captivity
Usually one litter a year with 3-4 kittens born in early spring, they learn to hunt from roughly 7-9 weeks old by the mother bringing home live prey then with her becoming independent around 5-6 months.
This just scrapes the surface of this fascinating cat. I think the following quote sums them up well
"They'll fight to the death for their freedom; they epitomise what it takes to be truly free I think."
If interested you will find most if not all you want to know on this site
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton
This is a story of sharing. This is a story of caring for one another and placing other's needs above our own.
Once upon a time there were two gerbils in a gerbil cage. One gerbil said to the other gerbil, “Hey, wanna go for a stroll on the wheel?”
The other gerbil replied merrily, “Nah. You go first because you haven’t run for quite a while.”
The first gerbil hopped on the wheel and began to run and run and run until he couldn’t run any more. He even became dizzy and almost fell off the wheel. He was so excited to get some good old fashioned rodent exercise, but he just didn't know when enough was enough. Finally he hopped off the wheel and took a rest for a while.
Soon after that the owner of the gerbils came over and said, “HI! “
“How are you two fellas doing in there today?” said the owner with a happy grin.
The two gerbils looked up at him and decided to run on the wheel again just to say thanks to the young boy for taking such good care of them.
The second gerbil hopped up on the wheel first and then after two minutes decided to take a break. Then the first gerbil began to jog merrily on the wheel again. It was like gerbil heaven in the cage and the two friends continued to take turns all throughout the day. They even helped each other take turns at the water container too.
The young boy who owned the gerbils wondered what it was like to be a gerbil as he sat there most of the afternoon. He wondered if he could survive all cooped up in a glass cage too.
There is a moral to this story. There really is!
The moral is you never know what you are getting yourself into when you live in a gerbil cage.
The second moral is that even in the smallest environments you can learn to live in harmony with one another and peace can prevail. It takes effort and it takes a BIG HEART too!
Copyright © Gwendolen Rix
A Tale of 2 Tails
A Bedtime Story for My Grandsons-by Gwendolen Rix
Two tigers went to the park to play. One tiger had a striped tail and the other tiger had a polka-dotted tail. The striped-tail tiger played harder than any other tiger at the park and when it was time for him to go to sleep at night he fell asleep without any problems. His weary head hit the pillow and then his striped tail stopped dancing all around as it did when he was swinging, jumping, twirling, and bouncing all around the playground.
The polka-dotted tailed tiger had not used up all of his energy, and so he was not ready to go to sleep. He tossed and he turned and he thought of all the things that he could have done to burn off all this extra energy. He even thought of different tricks he could have done on the monkey bars. He could have tried to count up to a hundred on the pogo stick too! Oh, there were a million things he could have done!
Eventually, the polka-dotted tiger became tired imagining all the things he could have done and then finally fell asleep. He even dreamed of building a bigger and more adventurous playground one day. Of course he would have to wait till he grew up and got a really good job. Until then he will just be satisfied with the playground that he has and play to his heart’s content.
Copyright © Gwendolen Rix
Mother rabbit builds
a cozy burrow
underneath the soil.
She brings her babies
and covers them
in her own fur.
She places them
in the flower bed
near the front door,
a spot well chosen
to give protection
from the wind.
Pansies and petunias
sit in their boxes
crying for the soil.
We give them water,
waiting patiently for
a later day to plant.
The cats perch
on the windowsill,
twin heads turned,
eyes glued to her den.
We keep them inside
for babies’ sake.
Copyright © Cona Adams
Mother used her third arm
for most everything,
her all-around solution
for problem solving.
Once, she used it to save
the life of a common toad.
The snake was guilty
of nothing more than a move
to assuage his hunger. He soon
fell victim to Mother's expertise
in wielding a hoe. As he slithered
along the cotton row, she chopped
him in two pieces just beyond
the bulge in his frame.
She then used her hoe
to push the frog out
toward light and freedom.
Mr. Toad sat for a time,
blinking in the sun,
then hopped back into his world.
Copyright © Cona Adams
This is the kind of creature that goes out into the night to steal bricks to build its' niche.
It more than crosses a courtesy line. Happens more in the winter;other seasons just fly by.
Swift as the bitter wind the creatures must move as the gypsies do. They must borrow as the thieves pulling out every trick up each sleeve.
Maddened by the stars, they follow them like arrows of direction. Cheaters!
Must be nice having nature direct their worst behavior.
The Harlot Scarlet of the night is so beautiful any family would give away their hard earned bread, their last. Clearly getting robbed impeccably as
it goes without notice. But what is seen is never told in eyes of gold.
Another win for creatures of night.
Copyright © Kira Price