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
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.
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.
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).
I do not know?
I am scrolling down hill
folding the pills
Elongating the tree's
and simplifying the breeze
I am a song to be played
-earlier than you might say
-in the day
When hearing is a complaint
and danger is delayed
But you are a spade
to be wondered and craved
You are your own way
With the sing of the slave
above the haze
Glazed with the betrayed
Honed in on like waves
So stubborn your gay
Holding on to the page
Don't you walk that way!
Troubled little weaver
always weavin' in and out of the days
-with your face
and two others that may show you the way
So...Whenever there is game
whenever you are just being insane
Two others can ring your ping
-scratch at your lawn
ease your bickering fawn
who is ages old
-cranky yet cold
Shining like rivers of silver soles
Wasted and bold
...Blanketing and broad
system of the slots
Put in a coin so you can jog
with your eye's
and with your pogs
Fall to the floor
while dude ranchers await cry's out the doors
Become single and slower
Dangerous like snow blowers
Manned by cats
with fake joints hangin' in their lips crowin'
as they are growin'
The stage is set to start goin'
But you stay all knowin'
With the people out there- asses a blowin'
(...) Like the sound of the tick was that on it
Like the leaper out of time was so subordinate
You know you could have grabbed mine
You know about other ways to shine
But still you sit and grind
Sleep and unwind
Base your catches on other famous people's finds
... I dont't confide
I really don't try
I just hear god and ask about the water in the sky
Why doesn't it come down on African pride?
When they need it most?
When we know 911 proved evil the most...
But sit here and boast
And you'll hear gods jokes
He's got what a man needs
He's got you underneath a sheet
So don't breathe
Just start running
Got the mustard?
Pray for a plead
Because random people leave
While friends try and greet
An acre of land with animals and plants couldn't please
Even if they spoke the language, and cured the disease
Sorry if I sound meek
But pride comes when I'm done writing these
My cats are soft, my cats are sweet,
my cats prefer cat food to eat.
We use meows to have our talks.
They do their business in their box.
I love my cats because they're great,
they're cats that purr and like to play
though sometimes their choice toys are feet
under the covers fast asleep
and yet they pounce and wake me up
which can be very obnoxious
though sometimes I wake up and see
they're snuggled by my head asleep
and that is great and very cute,
these cats are friends, their friendship's true.
They're brothers so they cuddle 'till
one notices the other's tail
and then attacks and then they play
and keep me awake until day
breaks and I get up and go feed
them bowls of cat food, which they need
to eat because they have to live
and take all the love I can give
because I really love my cats
and put them on my head like hats.
Age, You come to me as a cat to bird
Belly to ground with no sound heard.
Fangs so sharp claws kept keen.
You creep up slowly, yet unseen.
How poorly you treat me, evil and mean.
You weaken my sight; make it hard to read.
You are so selfish and full of greed,
You conspire with my mirror to lie to me.
Gone, my youthful face to see,
Gone the man I used to be.
Hair falls from my head, grows on my back.
My mind wander as thought I lack.
No place to hide, no way to win,
Surprise in my eyes is that of all men
Same look on the bird that the cat drags in!
Both black and white
Kittens wearing pink
Mittens, sit playfully,
While facing the
To their great surprise,
Those lovely kitten eyes
Witness a paper tiger
Appearing in the mirror
With a great big
Cheshire cat smile
Then, asking, who
Find your ambition
Your life’s mission
To make a difference
To feel passionate
Not to hurt
To feel compassionate
Don’t give in to temptation
Follow your own path
Consult your willpower
Always have a laugh
Whets your inspiration
Cling to your dream
Find the motivation
The cat that got the cream
You can be there
It can be good
You can be achieving
Just like you should
Put yourself up there
Respect what your about
If people don’t appreciate it
Let them scream and shout
You have to take the bad
Don’t lose your aim
It comes by the bucketful
Keep playing the game
When you admit defeat
When you finally give in
You’ve lost all purpose
You’ve got to search within
It’s easy to blame yourself
It’s easy to blame the world
It’s easy to keep shouting
Until you think that you’ve been heard
But think about what your saying
About what it really means
Things aren’t as bad as you think
It’s not as bad as it seems
Stick to your aim
Stick to your dream
Find some inspiration
The cat that got the cream