Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?
Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace
More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry
Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage
Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience
Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing
In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby
She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II
Annie received little compensation
This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty
To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home
With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse
Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty
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.
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
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.
There could be no other name for a Kitten like this one .
He is Brave , his black , silky hair , Vito has won suitors marking his claws .
This tiny little Cat , very soon all kittens on this street, will be kissing his paws .
for he earned his name Vito , the Kitty Godfather you know.
with whispers from other Cats "There He is " There he goes "
His Tail wavy like a dog he strides. Tall but yet low.
Vito is a tiny proud cat and likes his pasta made a special way
I make a red sauce , but it is the white clam he craves
He picks his claws fine , then with a full belly he plays
Vito with eyes of the finest blue and green , that will stare at you when you sleep.
It has been said by some female cats , do think he will go out with me some day ?
A Fine cat and kittens he will make ~meow meow, says a jealous girl kitten , no way !
Vito loves to play on the wood floors at night , he runs fast ,
he is not silent ..he is the young Godfather , Vito has earned the right.
Vito , the tiny kitten , Vito the young cat ,
Vito keeps our blocks free from any nasty rat.
No ..a Rat will not confront Our Vito at all
He will be pushed aside and evicted with one lift of his paw
One thing this kitten has that makes him so unique ...
He his adored by this owners . He is happy , and warm , safe in our sheets !
Some cat entered my room one night
I thought it was a ghost
It smelled like something had just died
But I must oblige my guest as the host
I turned on the light and there it was
An obnoxious opossum at best!
Whoa! Forget my host duties, cous!
Take the room—I’m an unhappy guest!
I left the house with a shutter
Before I realized I was heavily surrounded
By cats on all sides, up and under
The house they had all just rounded!
In truth I was perturbed on all levels
That I began to realize in horror
That damn opossum had spawned these little devils!
And tonight I must end this terror!
I then ran straight to the kitchen
Aware of the opossum inside
If I give up the tuna and ditch um’
Perhaps I’ll escape this night alive
The persistent cats scratched at the holes
Those buggers—those meddlers!
They could have been thieves—if not trolls!
Their yowls would scare sumo wrestlers!
Worst of all in this dilemma
Tomorrow was grocery day
There were no more cans of tuna
All my fish had swam away!
Somehow one got in
And the rest came barreling through
I ran toward my room to him
The opossum looked so distressed and blue
The little beady eyes pierced my soul
And I knew from then on he was my friend
He only meant to hide from the furry little trolls
And escape a most pitiful end!
I made up my mind at last
And picked up my trusty broom
Come on in—I dare yah tah pass!
Ain’t no feline coming through this room!
Glowing eyes burned with intent
And the yowling grew loud as hell
The little bullies think they can take my guest!
They’ll fly like birds they will!
That night was a battle like none other
A battle I will proudly say I won
I gained the friend of my life—a brother
My pet’s a load of fun!
As much as I love a neighbor cat
They are a little scary as a race
Thankfully a broom will push them back
And put them in their place
My opossum is a sweet little thing
And I protect him with my life
I’ll never judge a critter again
Till actions bring it to light
We have an ugly cat or it has us
That spends hours on a shelf along with dishes
Looks like it’s been run over by a bus
Did I mention it’s malicious?
Kitty sits there with the plates in strict resistance
Thinking about how to become more cute
It has no clue but contemplates existence
As we figure out its longitude and “attitude”
Most small creatures are sweet and cuddly
Not the case with this feline with its fatal flaws
It takes pride in being ugly
And with spare time, tearing curtains, climbing walls
We haven’t figured out the sex yet, of our pretty-less pet
Can’t get too near, it bites and claws our backs
It leaves wounds you won’t forget
We’re not sure if it wears a dress or real fur of black
Ugly cat comes from a questionable lineage
We found it howling in an ally with no vitality
It stays with us, probably won’t reach old age
Lacking looks, will send it to an early grave, a feline fatality
10/08/14 Impress me with a poem (a poem, I haven't read yet) Poetry Contest
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
Today, it just doesn't seem fair
That we are still able to breathe.
They have given us their air-
Our duty to lead the life they leave.
Big blundering beast
Poor fish have no chance whatsoever
Neither does the slowest runner in your group
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.~
[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.
A cat sniffs the crooked brown dough of the sullen moon;
The tempting smell of warm bread seems held by a glass sky
Old age, carefully steps on the glass, always ready to cry
Like they`d learn again to walk,holding an invisible balloon.
With glassy eyes looking at the strange baked moon,
The large dynasty of the unemployed and ex-miners,
Ecologists and readers of Bible, embarrassed beginners
Cannot "hear at a little distance", in the brown afternoon;
But a short-sighted misanthropist, observed while acting
As a conductor of the strike`s syncopation turned in syncope:
“Even the doctor with infinite awkwardness used his stethoscope;
I think, -because, no one can communicate only through feelings”
The brown cat in the street, shining eyes round about;
All cars seem gathered in the same frozen town;
The only birch tree from the hill was cut down;
Mourning neighbors live in their permanent doubt
To protest against solitude, and so many noisy cars;
And obviously, too many accidents in the town;
“Wait on the zebra…Don`t cross Mr. Brown!”
Lonely crowds, picture of still life with cellulars…
Seasons buried the face in tired brown fountains,
Long dirty brown drifts of snow and brown sensations
Step with ugly brown clay, and let traces for generations,
Because, cyanide used to pull gold from Red Mountains;
Everybody is in such a brown hurry towards nowhere.
Halt!Mr. Brown looks for his cat; the firemen help him to sit.
The cat climbed the moon, ready in a hurry to taste it;
Winter and cat stay with claws out;silence and the brown vault.
He's a silent hunter,
with a murderous heart,
and he doesn't care,
what he tears apart,
he is very independant,
and cunning to,
and if your his prey,
then you are through,
he has a ravinish blood lust,
that he can't contain,
and if he don't kill,
he'll go insane,
he may seem like a sweet little kitty,
but trust me people,
he is witty,
don't let those purrs,
and cuddles fool,
he has many concealed weapons,
he'll use as a tool,
he has needle sharp teeth,
and 5 dagger claws,
on each and everyone,
of his cute little paws.
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