There lived two pals in London Town
Who just hung out and roamed around
They called each other Tess and Boo
And folk said "what's it coming too
You cats and dogs are supposed to fight
And with each other get uptight"
The pair said "well we do know that
But we're not the normal dog and cat".
They were walking through the streets one day
When they saw this bird all pink and gray
The bird said "hullo both of you"
To the cat named Tess and the dog named Boo
As he looked them slowly up and down
And his face took on a puzzled frown
He said "now dogs and cat's they fight
And carry on and get uptight".
And so they told him how it was
They said "We don't fight because
We listen to our hearts do, we
Which keeps our minds all lose and free"
They Said "Now won't you join us bird
We'll be your friend you have our word"
And so the two became the three
And they were such good company.
Socrares Dec 2 2003.
In a cat's life.We get a rubber mouse,
a shoe string, or a butterfly to play with.
In a cat's life.We get names like Sylvester,
Felix, Tom And Jerry, Morris, and Garfield.
In a cat's life.We chase hamsters, mice, and
rats, anything loose, with a string attached.
In a cat's life.We like a big bowl of warm milk.
Crunchy cat food nuggets.All filled with love.
We like tuna oil, and tuna fish, and goldfish.
Straight from the living room fish tank.In a
cat's life.We like to curl up next to our master,
like a fluffy pillow, weeping willow on a sofa
bed.In a cat's life.We take off our mittens and
booties.As we leave our paw prints in the
muddy soil.In a cat's life.
Cat's Life Poetry By Kim Robin Edwards
All rights reserved
A big cat roared in the wilderness,
As the birds fled to the skies,
As the echo's of the thunderbirds
Be drowning out their cries.
As mad, mad man goes off to war,
And young men die
Oh Lord what for?????
The dark green bird with the big propeller
Be dropping off some fine young fellows,
To fight a mad, mad, war in tears
As anguished mothers face their fears.
As boys, some dying for leaders pride,
Be forced to thrust their souls aside.
The Romans march they off to war,
They're still with us, and that's for sure.
The Gulf, Iraq and Vietnam
Does anybody give a damn???
About boys dying in the night,
And who be wrong and who be right.?
Gather round both young and old for I've a tale to tell.
About this little lonely cat by the name of Tabby O'Dell.
Tabby was a fiesty critter. Spunky as could be.
She loved to play with other cats and often played in trees.
Many a day you'd see her prancing down the allies.
Digging through all the trash cans of the gourmet restaurant galleys.
Once she found a Doggy bone. Wow that was a sight.
Watching Tabby drag it home. It took her half the night..
But Tabby was a lonely gal for she did not have a pet.
She would dream away for hours of the boy she'd oneday get.
Til oneday little Tabby, as she came around a bend,
found a little Chinese boy and soon they were best friends.
It seemed no matter where they'd go they were always seen together.
Be it morning, noon or night, even nasty weather!
Soon she was invited to her new friends house.
Where a feast she did enjoy of fresh sun ripened mouse.
To her this was the finest time. A time so full of joy.
Just Tabby O'Dell the lonely cat and her pet little boy.
They were in the kitchen. I believe it was at night.
When sadly Tabby and her little boy had an awful fight.
Tabby clawed and sneered and bit as if she had a fever.
Then promptly had her head chopped off by a Chinese cleaver!
Her head rolled down the counter. Onto the floor it flew.
The lifeless carcass of Tabby O'Dell soon to be cat stew.
While the moral of this story is not easy to explain,
it has to do with relationships and how they often end.
So make sure when you get attached that you don't act a fool
or soon you'll find your head cut off and no more than pussy stew!
My cat went a roaming to find a new home.
Sing kitty,sing katty,sing Oh!
This cat was so clever he had his own comb.
Look up,now look down,stone the crows!
He went into the neighbours' and drank all their milk.
Sing,fridge raiding kitties.No,No!
Then he laid himself down on a piece of fine silk.
Sing,what the dickens,my lovely pillow!
He went to the butcher and ate all the steak.
Sing greedy,he's ruined my flow.
Then he went to the hairdresser for a shampoo.
Where else can a puttitat go?
He had no plastic,no money,no cheque!
Sing,cheater,sing creature,sing woe.
She sent for a Copper who paid the cat's bill.
And so my puss came out all aglow.
Now my cat was glossy and plump and refreshed.
Sing:fancy,it all goes to show.
So he came home and said this place is best.
And he picked up his cello and bow.
He scraped some Sibelius and also some Grieg.
Sing: Northern lights can always glow.
But,he looked so self satisfied,I felt annoyed....
One should not let one's narcissism show.
But he was so handsome,I was glad he came home.
Sing,grateful,sing katefull,sing Ho!
And I hope he will never again want to roam.
Sing glory.sing story;Sing So!
old novel with the author you
cant quite remember.
we can worry about it later
just like in the old days.
now tealeaf stimuli is twice as light in the city.
the somewhat unfriendly cat in the
bookstore on the corner seems disinterested.
watching a woman on the sidewalk
holding a wet paper grocery bag,
her arms wrapped around the bottom.
the bag is falling apart and the clouds are rolling
it will be dark soon.
we are falling apart and talking about heading
south into the high desert.
we pass the time by reading paperbacks that have
been soaked in mineral oil for days and
hardened under the sun.
we feel holy and then a little less holy.
your heavy sweater purchased at
a thrift store, the faint smell of mothballs
still lingering on the thick threads.
the cat has taken an interest in
your side pocket pulling with its claws and mouth.
soon the rain will cough up the paperbacks as well,
everything will change.
The grey mist glissening on my brow,
as I step outside to a horrendous "MEOW",
hours of dawn,
and a cat lay slovenly on my back lawn,
wet, crystal, damp, lawn,
feline lay still,
for you couldn't hear a pin drop,
the dew lifted,
now the sun has risen,
happy cat no longer hissing,
for now all thoughts as to what is missing.
On a mile stone in a small town I sat trying to write
a poem, an old man sat on a wooden bench watching
me, he had a newspaper on his lap. A cat under a car
was watching him, perhaps he gave it something to eat
from time to time. With a sigh I put my notebook back
into the side pocket of my jacket. No poem today.
The man began reading his newspaper, the cat looked
away and began grooming itself. A bus stopped two
elderly ladies alighted, bags full of shopping, and all was
back to normal, but I remember the air of summer dust
diesel fumes and the aroma of lavender.
The machine waits patiently
In the corner........
Like a sleeping cat
That ozone smell
It knows too well....
Crackle of static........
In the corner...
Like a sleeping cat
What is it thinking?
Muted lights ....
The Ghost in the machine
It knows, you are there
In the corner.......
Like a sleeping cat........
The Ghost in the machine
Sliding across the mat
Creeping across the floor
Crackle of static
Coming for me...........
Ghost in the machine
I cannot flee..........
This is not a dream
This is now, me..........
I have no place to go.........
Except inside the machine
To become it's host.......
The muted glow