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
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009
It’s always a good practice when living on a farm,
To have a family of cats living in the barn
They always keep the rats and mice at bay and furnish humor too –
Wherever you find kittens there’s usually a laugh or two.
Now, I remember one time, I was out there milking cows,
When I noticed three young kittens, out and on the prowl.
One, a fine young tomcat, was really acting brave
And I wondered if he faced some fear just how he would behave.
Skillfully I squeezed and threw some milk across his face –
He winced a bit, then licked his lips – he knew he’d found the place.
We played around awhile and soon the playing stalled
When he stopped and took a minute to answer nature’s call.
He didn’t know it but he backed himself up to a fresh cow pad
He grunted; then had the best little poop a kitten ever had.
He turned around to cover it; then began the fun.
He knew what he saw lying there was more than he had done.
He arched his back, let out a scream and broke into a run.
I thought, at first, it might have been something I had done.
But soon it was no mystery what scared that little cat.
There was the giant pile of poop I couldn’t help laughing at.
This kitten was the alpha kitten of the litter
Who ultimately proved to me that he was no quitter.
So, when the time came to find him a name…
Well ….. I just called him……”Fraidy”
Written By John Posey
Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2013
I have a cat
A real fat cat
My cat is all black
My black fat cat
It is a cat with a knack
A true fact about my cat
My fat black cat
She has a knack to catch a rat
My all black cat brought me the rat
This is why my cat is a fat black cat
So rats watch your back
From my cat with the knack
Or you will become a snack for my fat black cat
Copyright © colleen laforme | Year Posted 2006
A lady took her duck to the Vet!
He examined the duck, then he said,
"I'm sorry Miss, to inform you,
but I'm afraid, your pet duck is dead!"
"I find it hard, to believe you!
Is there no more tests, you can do?"
He opened the door, then he told her,
"I'll be back in a minute or two."
He came back with a Black Lab Retriever,
and a cat, that was part black and white.
They both sniffed the Duck, from head to foot,
then the Vet says, "they proved I was right!"
He then, gave the lady his bill!
One hundred and fifty, it read!
She replied, "you're charging me that much,
just to tell me, my pet duck is dead?"
"If you believed me, from the beginning,
your bill, would be just twenty bucks!
But, with the Lab report, and the Cat Scan,
I'm afraid, you're just out of luck!"
Copyright © RALPH TAYLOR | Year Posted 2010
Miss Kitty Katt was famous in the small hometown of mine
And Buster was the town dog -- never knew a boundary line.
Miss Kitty knew no limits except those she had drawn
Which included one she’d posted -- “All dogs stay off this lawn.”
She made it known some time ago and everybody knew
That no dog ever was allowed – they knew what would ensue.
Buster and Tom were hangin’ out. There ain’t no doubt up to no good.
Just out there strollin’ in the hood – Looked up and there Miss Kitty stood.
Now Tom, he knew Miss Kitty -- and Buster was his friend.
And he recognized the trouble they both would soon be in.
Miss Kitty started hissing the way that mad cats do
She had been here many times before and knew just what to do.
She just made straight for Tom with fire in her eyes
Anyone who saw her knew her hate was not disguised.
Miss Kitty’s scream was piercing -- her intent, there was no doubt,
They were walking in her yard and she meant to drive them out.
Ol’ Tom he realized just what there was in store
Since he had also been here many times before.
It sure should draw some water that he was of her kind
But all ol’ Tom could think about was savin’ his behind.
Salvation soon trumped honor and Valor? --- Nowhere to be found.
Tom quickly realized he had no choice – he knelt down to the ground
Miss Kitty in her hissy fit soared right o’er ol’ Tom’s back.
And Buster stood there helpless to handle the attack.
What happened wasn’t pretty and Buster had no doubt
This crazy maddened mama cat was there to take him out.
Nothing could be said or done to change what was to be
When Buster, with a side step knocked Miss Kitty to her knees.
I suppose we’ll always wonder just what went on that day
When Buster and the Tom Katt just went out to play
The Morning News has brought up questions about this strange event
Like how Buster got his broken leg and where Miss Kitty went.
Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2012
A Tribute to Golda
It was a clear and bright sun shining morning in May.
As I came out my front door into the breezeway,
I saw coming toward me an enormous gray dog with eyes of pure gold,
The most exquisitely beautiful canine one could ever behold,
With a calm gentle presence and peaceful demeanor;
The look in his brilliant gold eyes assured I had nothing to fear.
It was love at first sight and I hoped he would stay.
Never mind the impediments; I’d find a way.
My toddler son climbed on him like they’d grown up together,
As I seriously pondered the prospect of whether…
Absolutely not, said my husband, a cat man,
And nixed the idea before it began.
Weeks later, a litter box and cat food mysteriously appeared
On the sidewalk, out of nowhere; we thought it quite weird.
With the next morning’s sunrise, we figured it out.
The same coat of gray and gold eyes left no doubt;
The same being who before as a dog had been spurned,
In a more acceptable form and presence had now returned.
Bounding out of the bushes with a commanding meow,
A little gray, gold-eyed kitten my husband had to allow.
In her life as a cat and formerly a dog,
She was my brave and wise Golda who would go on to log
More than one rescue of our subsequent pets.
In defending attack, this courageous gray, gold-eyed feline was as fierce as it gets.
Note: Golda saved the life of my Chow-Chow puppy when she was attacked by a big dog that
came at her from across the street. Golda came out of nowhere with claws out, sending the
dog scurrying with his tail between his legs. Another time she rescued our little Siamese
youngster, Meowli, from the neighbors' dogs by jumping on their head while Meowli ran for
cover. Golda stayed with me for 12 years, longer than the husband cited in the poem, and
then when her time and her work was done, she just disappeared pretty much as she had
appeared. She was a beautiful, long haired all gray Persian with brilliant gold eyes. When not
rescuing other animals, she had the same calm, gentle and peaceful demeanor as the dog who
showed up that morning and left when he knew he was not welcome to stay.
7th place winner in ~Somewhere A Pet Is Waiting Contest~ sponsored by ~A Rambling Poet~
Copyright © Linda Witt-King | Year Posted 2010
Blood mixed with dirt was still moist on the ground.
Traces of battle were scattered around.
The man entered slowly, a snare on his face.
Trying to hide his contempt and disgrace.
Announced by the cheers of the people above.
Among all the fighters they showed him most love.
Never defeated, no matter the foe.
With him they all knew they would soon see a show.
The man was all muscle, and seven feet tall.
Compared to his size, all the guards appeared small.
His skin was tanned golden, his eyes piercing green.
His hair long and braided and dark with a sheen.
His helmet of metal was fitted just so.
His sword and his shield had a rich, shiny glow.
A belt made of leather protected his waist.
His greaves, thick and sturdy and perfectly laced.
Suddenly silent, the crowd had grown still.
Awaiting arrival, expecting a thrill.
And then there was thunder, the roar of the beast.
Declaring his entrance, predicting a feast.
The man and the lion began in their game.
Predator, prey, they both looked the same.
They circled and circled and then in a blink.
The cat had attacked, so anxious to drink.
They struggled together, locked in a war.
The crowd cheered them on, hoping for gore.
And then he was bitten, the wound on his leg.
But he would not fumble and he would not beg.
He reached for his weapon so close where it lay.
He would not accept this would be his last day.
And just as the creature had pounced in the air.
He killed the great cat with his sword and a prayer.
The fighter stood up with his blood dripping down.
The steel of his helmet concealing his frown.
The great gladiator continued to reign.
Another he killed, one more smile he must feign.
Copyright © Samia Ali Arroyo | Year Posted 2012
I am in my house,
With a panicked mouse.
Coming back from the fridge
Going through the sand-ridge
Into its hole in a jiffy
Then squeaking out - Yippee !
Then come two rats
With a hard pat on the back
Running along with its mate
Making things obfuscate
Around the bagful of nickels
Crossing the jar full of pickles
The rat and its mate came back trotting
With a block of cheese that was rotting
After some time in a line
Came a parade f rats and mice
With and hats and lice.
Everyone was mournful
But a mouse eating a mouthful
Who was happy and glad
Was making everyone sad.
He ate with nosh
Wearing a hat that was posh
After hogging and stuffing
He got up puffing,
Ready for his quest
Sqeaking good bye to the rest,
He leaped across a runnel
And ran into a thicket
Never to be spotted again.
Copyright © Madhavi Mohalik | Year Posted 2014
“Can you smell something burning,” Dad frowned and I said “Yeah.”
It had the smell of cooking meat, as well as burning hair,
Dad stopped the truck, lifted the bonnet… “Blimey look at that!”
Something was mangled by the fan, looking like Mum’s cat.
“Strike me pink” Dad shook his head, “Mum’s cat’s been on the motor.
It’s been killed by the fan”; and we knew that Mum did dote her.
Dad looked at me with steely eyes, “Get the spade and dig a hole,
I’ll tell you now and only once… don’t tell a living soul”…
… I was halfway through my tea, staying quieter than a mouse.
Mum asked “Has anyone seen Tiddles? She’s not around the house.”
All Mum got was puzzled looks, and the shaking of each head…
Dad glared to remind me, ‘don’t tell a soul the cat is dead.’
Mum loved her cat so much; she’d have Tiddles on her lap
out on the porch at evening time. Contented she would nap.
I hated seeing Mum distressed, but Dad just acted bored,
when Mum said, “I’ll write a note, with an offer of reward.”
‘Ten pounds for her return’; I thought that Mum would smell a rat,
when Dad said “Make it twenty, if you really love your cat.”
The Ad’s printed in the paper, in the column ‘lost and found.’
Dad said to me “I’m feeling guilty now, with Tiddles underground.”
Dad let me drive the tractor while he spread the ragwort spray,
and then blackberries copped a dose before they shoot away,
he emptied out the tank and we went home to wash the gear.
The Evans’ car’s parked in our drive… “What are they doing here?”
Laughter’s in the kitchen; a joyous Mother’s voice did say
“Young Misty here found Tiddles; she was hiding in their hay,
no wonder she would not come home.” I watched Dad’s eyes and jaw.
… Twenty quid, the cat is back… a box of kittens on the floor.
Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015
Mrs Briggs' cat.
There's plenty to do in our neighborhood,
with games and places to explore.
But you really should run,
'cause the trouble's begun,
when you hear that "meow" at your door.
A cute little tabby cat sits on the step,
all fluffy and gentle as can be.
Just try not to be dim,
as you pet it, on a whim,
It'll eat you alive for its tea!
"Tiddles" belongs to old Mrs Briggs,
who lives up the end of my street.
She thinks it's a breeze,
but there're no guarantees,
that this pussy will ever be sweet.
Our local vicar thinks the damn thing's possessed,
and I'd say that he's right on the nail.
Surprised I would be,
If I wasn't to see,
Satan's head poking out of its tail!
So if you see that tabby cat coming your way,
I beg you, don't stand there and wait,
Don't stroke it, don't pet it,
look, sunshine, FORGET IT,
Or that moggy will seal your fate!
Copyright © Rick Eichelberg | Year Posted 2014
-honestly...I have no clue why...-
As I began to rest in my fickle dream
Suddenly I was stirred from my sleep
I was greeted by many a whisker
And petulant snores from my sister
The cat mewed ferociously and purred
For there on the other side of the window—was a bird!
It chirped like a wobbly siren—the ass!
And I swear by my bosom it was pecking the glass
Suddenly, I sprang up in alarm
I swear my bosom was gone!
The cat then motioned at the feathered brat
For her bright breasts seemed extra fat
Of course it wouldn’t have been that
But I couldn’t just blame the cat!
I opened the window only a crack
And asked very kindly, “May I have my breasts back?”
Such pride she attained from my bosom
Yet why? –how would she use ‘em!?
The mockingbird merely turned a goodbye
But the stolen twins were too heavy to fly!
She plopped to the ground and squawked
I would have laughed, but I was shocked!
The cat scratched at the window and with her eyes
Said, “Prithee, take your breasts—she’s mine!”
Before I could think I had fallen to the ground
To a booming, most terrible sound!
My eyes then opened to a cat on my head
As the booming sound continued from my sister’s bed
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
Once again it’s Saturday; the day when footy reigns supreme.
The Dogs are up against the Cats, the premier favoured team,
but I’ve got no doubts the mighty Dogs will surely cope with that.
I couldn’t think of nothing worse than being beaten by a Cat.
But then I am reminded by the one who reigns supreme,
when she reads out the date that will affect me footy dream.
It’s the day our Cat and Dog must have, or so my wife confirms,
their little pill preserving health to stop them getting worms.
Now this simple operation should only take a tick or two
for the tablets are just tiny things, so there should be no ado,
but at times our Cat can be cantankerous for reasons of its own
and because today the footy’s on, all reasoning has been blown.
The blasted Cat would not cooperate and then threw a hissy fit,
when I cradled it just like a baby, and expected it to sit
while I applied some pressure so it’s mouth would open wide,
and with my other hand that’s free I’d easily pop the pill inside.
But the pill was knocked out of me hand and rolled across the floor
while the Cat scarped across the sofa and then hid behind the door,
and even though I had it cornered I could tell things were not right
when it spat and scratched me arm to win this battle in the fight.
I retrieved it from the bedroom, and with more force put on a grip
with its front paws held together, and pushed down tight into me hip,
I forced its jaws to open and then popped the pill inside its gob
and clamped its mouth; counted to ten, then watched the tablet lob -
- into the blasted goldfish bowl, and saw the Cat scarp up the hall,
to hide somewhere on a wardrobe with its back hard against a wall,
so it’s time to gather re-enforcements with two tablets wasted now,
and with my wife to back me up we’ll get the tablet down somehow.
I wedged the Cat between me knees and with its head just sticking out,
I made sure its claws are disengaged because its growling left no doubt,
when my wife pushed a funnel in its mouth and with the pill to follow.
I rubbed its neck quite vigorously, now the cat will have to swallow.
I eyed the Cat up on the curtain rail until I’m handed the third pill,
and with the torn lace through the curtains my wife had lost the will
to maximise a healthy Cat because of damage scattered everywhere,
with figurines and vases now in pieces, and are way beyond repair.
It appears we must get serious, and so the Cat is wrapped up in a towel,
with just the head and ears appearing, and we can ignore its howl.
I placed the pill inside a drinking straw, but before I got to blow,
the bloody Cats’ one step ahead, now there are answers I should know.
Are these pills harmful to humans? Do they have some side effects?
Does it hurt to mix with alcohol? Do they dissolve when stuck in necks?
I had to drink two cans of beer to try and take the taste away.
My wife’s wrapped up in band-aids and furious with lots to say.
For there’s blood stains on the carpet from deep scratch marks on her head,
and now I’ve got permission to search inside our neighbours shed,
where I dragged it from a rafter and shoved it in a hessian sack,
and while carrying the Cat back home I mused a new plan of attack.
Into a cupboard goes the Cat, and with the door closed on its neck,
there’s just its head poking out so I’ll have it fixed up in a ‘sec,’
and with the fourth pill in my left hand, and some pliers in me right
to prise the Cats’ mouth open wide and so at last I’ll win this fight.
But for now I must forget the Cat while I replace the cupboard hinges,
and use my whisky so to disinfect; which is a double dose of cringes,
then check my tetanus records just in case I may need another shot,
and replace my T-shirt torn to shreds - then find I’ve been put on the spot.
A car swerved into a neighbour’s fence to avoid the Cat that chose to flee.
Now the fire brigade is here to help because the damn Cats’ up a tree.
And once the scene was cleared up and with the Cat back home alive,
it growled and spat at me in anger when I held up tablet number five.
But before I made me final thrust, I needed courage that’s in beer.
And after half a dozen full strength to this Cat I made it clear,
that I won’t take any of its Tommyrot, and my threat is not a fable,
so with hay band wound around all paws I tied it to the dining table.
And wearing heavy duty garden gloves I took to the bloody Cat;
forced the pill down in its throat and then some raw steak followed that,
before I poured near half a gallon of water down the mongrel’s throat.
It’s a wonder that it didn’t drown but the cursed Cat did stay afloat.
I drank whisky from the bottle when being driven by my wife
to outpatients where a doctor will revive me disappearing life.
I need stitches in me fingers and me forearm, and to regain me sight,
they must remove the remnants of the pill that shot me in the fight.
We need to buy another dining table to replace our splintered one,
and the Cat’s about to find a new home for the damage that it’s done.
So there’s not one once of pity for the Cat I’d love to dearly flog,
but that stays in the background ‘cause it’s time to worm the dog.
So with a sixth pill in me hand the Dog has begging eyes on me,
but I don’t need grief the Cat gave us so used a simple strategy.
I wrapped the tablet in some bacon; the Dog wagged his tail and spun,
then I tossed the bacon high into the air - now all the wormings’ done.
Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2016
The Bombay Grocery (Indian)- North Carolina
Shyam*, finds cat food at special rate near the door.
Goes to check out to manager of the grocery store
Doubting manager asks to bring cat if he has one
Shyam returns with his small cat to buy food anon.
Next day Shyam comes with a bag in his hand
And ask the manager to put his hand to the end
Manager puts his hand and shouts “Poo,Doodie pure”
Shyam says, “ yes, sir, I want the toilet paper sure”
Fourth Place winner IN
Contest: Grocery Grammer by Linda-Marie, the sweetheart
* Shyam is an Indian name. Shyam also means Black-cloud colour. It is one of the name of
Lord Krishna. It happens to be the name of one of my grandson living in Charlotte (NC)
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2010
I s'pose some folks prefer a hound dog lyin' at their feet,
While others might enjoy a twitterin' parakeet.
But be it a mogul's mansion or a humble flat,
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
Thankfully, my cat doesn't bark or scourge my pristine lawn,
Nor does he wake me for outside relief at the crack of dawn.
Furthermore, my dear old pal I seldom have to holler at.
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
My cat is content to have me stroke and brush his hair,
And happier yet if he can occupy my favorite chair.
As master of his domain, why should he ever want to roam?
Without an inscrutable cat, a house just ain't a home!
While he reposes upon my lap and I stroke his silky fur,
Ain't nothin' more relaxin' than to hear his soothin' purr.
He won't condone a walk, I'll certainly grant you that,
Yet, a house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
His independent airs and a few stray hairs I can tolerate;
Even my chair by the glowin' fire to him I will abnegate.
I reckon you can enjoy a snake, pot-bellied pig or hybrid rat,
But a house just ain't a home, without an inscrutable cat!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Poet Destroyer's "My Best Pet Or Animal Poem" Contest - Jun 2011
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010
Oft' I wonder what my cat Simba thinks behind that baleful stare.
Is he planning roguery or just building castles in the air?
Perhaps he's reviewing strategies for catching a bird to devour.
Here's what I sense goes on behind his condescending glower!
I 'puuur'ceive he's thinking, "Hey, remove yourself from my chair!
Who said you could sit there - that's my favorite lair!
Will you at least make room on your very ample lap,
So I can curl up and take my usual afternoon nap?"
Many times he glares at me and emits a plaintive 'meow'.
I'm sure he's thinking, "Hey, pal, ain't it time for chow?"
He stalks about the house as if it was his sole domain,
Thinking, "I guess I'll benevolently allow you to remain!"
With soulful eyes he invites me to scratch behind his ears.
If I try to comb his coat, "Oh no you don't!" and he disappears!
Sprawling upon the window sill he gazes across the street,
Eyeing the Persian cat, thinking, "Meeee-Wow! Her I'd like to meet!"
When he begins to purr and 'puuur'sistently rubs against my feet,
He's probably thinking, "Hey, old buddy, how about a treat?"
My cat thinks, "He's not a bad sort, him I can tolerate.
He provides my grub - furthermore, with him I can communicate!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Francine Roberts' "Pick A Pet" Contest - July 2011
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2011
Trembling in my bed tonight
I cannot close my eyes
The movie on the late, late show
Says everybody dies
Now some say I'm a scaredy cat
But tonight is Halloween
What if someone kidnaps me,
And tries to eat my spleen?
I know there's no great pumpkin
Okay, maybe there is
What if he puts a spell on me,
And tries to make me his?
And I think that there's a monster
Who lives beneath my bed
I shiver and shake and stay awake
With covers over my head
There's something outside my window
And shadows on my wall
I think I hear some rattling chains
From the ghosts that's in the hall
Right then I hear this eerie voice
And feel this clammy hand
My wife says, "Hush and go to sleep,
You're supposed to be a man"
Copyright © Larry Belt | Year Posted 2010
My Calico was chocolate-caramel swirled,
and the inside of our house was all her world!
Her whole concern was just in getting stroked or fed.
She'd summon me each morning, jumping on my bed
and reaching out with one white paw, she'd tap my head!
(This is around the time several years ago that Callie had to be
put to sleep due to cancer. She lived 18 wonderful years with us!)
For Rick Parise's Five-Line Poem Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
John moses freeman~True Personal Story
To a cold dark room void of any heat,
A cat came in the night to warm the feet,
Of a ten year old child__ wild, but heart so meek,
Enhanced child’s slumber to be warm and less bleak.
Cold freezing rain, a meow at a window pane.
A pillow stuffed in a broken window pane,
Removed to let feline in, out of the rain.
Seem to relieve them both of their world's pain.
The lonely child would stroke and the cat would purr,
Old stray had the softest, sweet smelling fur.
Down under the covers to the child's feet,
Would wrapped around to be a pulsating heat.
Now the adult who was the lonely child,
All grown up meekly and not the least bit wild,
Wonders about the cat in the winter squalls,
A cat never he saw, not even it's paws.
Bobbed tail Manx cat the old man now with pranks,
Mysterious connection old man thinks.
How beautiful are the feet so warm and complete.
Mystery__ his Manx cat also prefers his feet.
Spirit or otherwise old man doth realize,
Cat of his childhood was not a big guise.
Feet all warmed and complete, not in conceit,
To him not a mystery, God warmed his feet.
For: Cat Poems
In Honor of:~Constance~ Rambling Poet
Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2010
the season I turned eleven
was the season that I died
there'd been blood betrayal and famine
and I thought I had survived
my neighbor killed my kitten
and for that I could not cry
my mother went to handle it
told me to stay inside
i sat poised in an armchair
trying to calm my mother down
while I could feel nothing
we knew she'd made him drown
the woman was a laundress
washed other people's clothes
didn't like the stink of pig sties
it offended her frail nose
the wash-board on the right side
where the pigs did have their homes
was the one she always gave me
like the left one was her own.
only when a pig was hanging
would she demand to trade
i'd wash next to a hog's corpse
a choice could not be made.
then one day I got angry
and I dared to move her clothes
i moved them to the right side
as the rage inside me rose
the woman tapped my window
and said your cat is dead
it was two days before Christmas
she roused me from my bed
there was display of feeling
tears could not be be shed
gray fades to black
hello sadness my old friend
Copyright © Lucrezia Blanche Aguilar | Year Posted 2006
one day I met a new little friend from that
day my life would begin again he made me
laugh alot we was always out and about
on rainy days we would run in the house
and he would chase a mouse he was my best
friend and I miss him
one day I got bad news he got loose and ran
away I looked all day but my cat was gone
away never to return oh how I yearn for my
my best friend I lost my best friend I
lost a part of my life I will always
wait for you my pet my little friend til
in dedication to my little cat Mooda
Copyright © Patricia Opel Jaye | Year Posted 2005
I do not know?
In this modern life of all work and no play
We forget where our wisdom is stored.
We just haven't time, for a nursery rhyme,
That the kids in past ages adored, adored.
That the kids in past ages adored
The characters felt they were fading away
So a meeting was held in Toad Hall
The spokesperson Rat, there promoted the Cat.
To the Captain, in charge of them all, them all.
To the captain in charge of them all.
Expeditions were planned, to go to the land
Where nursery rhymes go to retire
The home by the sea, where all pantos are free
And the stars go to slowly expire, expire.
And the stars go to slowly expire.
The Owl built a craft, you may think it quite daft,
Out of what he had left from his lunch.
There were carrots and peas, leftovers like these.
And crewed by a very odd bunch, odd bunch.
And crewed by a very odd bunch.
So the Owl and the pussycat sailed out to sea
In a beautiful green pea boat
Cat said to Owl, the weathers turned foul,
Do you think that these veggies will float, will float,
Do you think that these veggies will float.
Little miss Muffet, sat tight on her tuffet
Said We’ll ask the spider to row
With four legs a side and the pull of the tide
We’ll speed up our vessel so slow, so slow,
We’ll speed up our vessel so slow.
The prediction proved true, and the little boat flew
To the land ‘neath the silvery moon,
Where cutlery chanced, their luck as they danced.
And the dish had a crush on the spoon, the spoon.
And the dish had a crush on the spoon.
Where little jack Horner, recluse in his corner,
Stares hard at a pie in the sky.
And little dogs laugh, as a cow and its calf
Eat mushrooms and think they can fly, can fly.
Eat mushrooms and think they can fly.
With his crew now ashore, captain cat said “explore”
We will search till the haven is found.
I'm told it's been seen, near the magical bean.
Where the fairytale stories abound, abound.
Where the fairytale stories abound.
Then spoke, an old hag; just a man dressed in drag,
Said she knew how to find the great bean
With its stalk growing high, past the pie in the sky.
In the town where the Giants are green, are green.
In the town where the Giants are green.
They marched off inland, captain cat and his band.
They came across little Bo Peep
Laid down on the ground, with the lambs all around.
She had dozed off while counting her sheep, her sheep,
She had dozed off while counting her sheep.
They woke shepherdess, and she gave the address,
Of the home run by Jack and by Jill
And then to confound, She said turn around,
It's behind you, up there on the hill, the hill,
It's behind you up there on hill.
They all turned about, at a terrible shout,
From man who came tumbling down.
OThen a scream from his wife, can you please save his life,
I believe that he's broken his crown, his crown.
I believe that he's broken his crown.
The clever old Owl, bound his head with a towel
And then got him back to his abode.
It seemed like a cure, and so Jill said I'm sure.
A debt to this Owl here is owed, is owed.
A debt to this Owl here is owed.
The Owl used his mind, saying that's very kind.
I think as we’re all refugees
That what we need most, is a home on this coast.
And to stay here if this town agrees, agrees.
And to stay here if this town agrees.
The town had a vote, and it's worthy of note,
That the cross placed in every page.
Was, yes, they can stay, and be part of our play.
Because all of the world is a stage, a stage
Because all of the world is a stage.
Copyright © Tony Wager | Year Posted 2015
Pretty, tawny, tabby Tabor
full of curiosity and play
He saw the door ajar for a fast getaway
His golden eyes gleamed
Jail break; as he dreamed
Ditching out as fast as a jet
The backyard pond he couldn’t forget
full of lily pads and Koi. ”Oh, what fun!”
Sneaky pitter-patter paws sly as a cat “I’ll take one.”
Tiny tadpoles hiding under the lily pads away from the Koi
A little twitch happy tail, pawing, splashing the cool water to catch the Koi
From out of nowhere showed
Kung Fu tempered toad
pounced on Tabor’s back. “H-i-s-sss......!”
Feeling frustrated and foiling his plans couldn’t catch him now
Tawny tabby Tabor taunting tiny tadpoles and tantalizing tasty tempered toad
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016
Leonine, with whispy fur,
So soft it’d make a human purr.
Squinty eyes and button nose,
no stranger to a model’s pose.
Stalks the halls of Sarah’s lair,
a life of ease sublimely fair.
You may think he’s just a cat,
But we all know he’s more than that.
[Written in honor of a friend's Himalayan Persian--I think---a personable cat that I often use as a character in short stories and even a radio script.]
[For anyone interested in the radio show I wrote about Duffy, here is a link: http://sylvannovelust.blogspot.com/2013/12/adventures-of-duffy-dean-unified-story.html]
Copyright © Jim Tidd | Year Posted 2014
Cat-suited and cute
Baring flesh to her navel
Her bronzed body
In wanting able
As her chest pouts
The needing of join
Her heart shouts
In tethered mode
With silken scarves
To her body delight
One caresses her curves
Her chest rises
Saluting his touch
His manly hands
Now in cupped clutch
Their lips meet
De-vine in dine
Down her wanting curves
Her eyes yearning
For his manly serves
As she lies there manacled
Hungering for their zest
His adventurous kissing
Starting from her breasts
As her scents allure
Following her aroma
Her thighs, she holds
His manly shape
His shadow drapes
Two engines tuned
To race in time
In loving rhyme
To feel her caress
Absorbing each other
Inner flowing finesse
Our sighs in rhythm
Dove and her Highlander
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
I don't know why it happened
It totally boggles my brain
I think my cat is loosing it i think shes going insane
I herd her meowing outside my back door
When i opened it she dropped a mouse on the deck floor
Why would i be boggled well to my surprise
This mouse wasn't dead it was very much alive
She looked at me like to say i brought this for you
Than she sauntered in to the house like she didn't know what to do
She laid out on the kitchen table like she was queen
Me still rubbing my head this is the strangest thing I've seen
I know she has shown sometimes she is not always smart
But never brought me a mouse that hasn't been ripped apart
I looked out my back door and that little mouse was gone
I looked at my cat and said now what the heck is wrong
Oh boy maybe killing that mouse would break my cats heart
Maybe when i wasn't looking my cat made a fresh start
Or maybe in that moment she felt she cared
Letting that little mouse go his life she spared
But really i cant imagine that
This is the same cat that brought me the rat
So here i sit with a boggled brain
wondering is my cat truly insane
Copyright © colleen laforme | Year Posted 2006
"Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall"
Why would he want to do that?
I'm sure he didn't Want to fall,
Perhaps he was just looking for his cat.
"Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall"
The cat started looking for his master,
Meanwhile, our Humpty was trying to call,
But this only made the cat look faster.
"All the kings horses and all the kings men"
The cat stepped carefully toward his master,
Humpty thought he was saved again,
But all it meant was a real disaster!
"Couldn't put Humpty-Dumpty together again.
The cat started to lick as it started to rain,
Humpty felt himself getting thinner and thinner,
As the cat had more and more of his dinner.
This is the story of our Humpty-the egghead,
Who fell off the wall and made a great splat,
He didn't know the fall would make him spread,
And make a great meal for his fat ole cat.
Poor ole Humpty-Dumpty !
Copyright © Patricia Leonaitis | Year Posted 2007
Not long after The Beginning,
There were Animals and there was Man.
A great chasm lay between, that legend said
Only a Leap of Faith could span.
Animals seemed happy on their side;
For, after all, such a leap could not be done
“Make the best it,” they all said;
All, that is, but one.
There stood Dog, alone upon the brink,
The distant Man’s reflection shining in his eyes;
Something was robbing Dog of peace;
Something was urging him to try.
Compelled, he stood and stared,
Nothing could distract his gaze.
Now and then, Horse would come;
Each time, the same old words to say.
“I understand. I really do.
I admit it. I’ve thought about it too;
But it’s too far for me to jump,
It’s certainly too far for you”.
One day, as Horse spoke his words,
Cat rudely interrupted with a sneer.
“Go ahead and try. You’ll break your silly neck.
You can’t go there. Your place is here”.
More resolute now, his vigil became duty;
Still, he often wondered, “Why?”
But something deep inside kept saying,
“You must. You must. It’s do…or die”.
Then, one day, he turned and walked away.
Oh, yes, he’d need a running start.
He knew now, he had the Will;
But only a Leap of Faith could prove his Heart.
Just before he made his Leap of Faith,
Dog saw the loneliness in Man’s eyes.
“He needs a friend, someone to help
And always stand right by”.
With those unselfish thoughts,
Dog had reason, he felt whole.
And well he should, for at that very moment,
God granted Dog a Soul!
But Souls don’t come so easy,
And his leap was short that day.
If Dog was to make a Leap of Faith,
Man would have the final say.
Dog’s faith was truly tested, front paws upon the edge.
He hoped Man’s eyes hadn’t lied.
Then Man’s Heart swelled and touched his Soul.
He helped Dog up and placed him proudly at his side.
Oh, so jealous was Cat I’m told;
His eyes turned green that day.
“Oh, you are an heroic mutt;
A friend of Man, you say?
I’ll make that leap by myself.
You can bet, I’ll find a way”.
So, Dog had made the Leap of Faith.
He and Man became Best Friends.
So it shall be, for all eternity;
That is to say, until the Very End.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Memories can be enemies
for they unwind the mind to past legacies,
and childhood melodies.
His blazing amber eyes.
His words and love always wise.
How I grieve goodbyes!
I consume the ills
of multiple pills.
My body clanking in chiming chills.
waiting for my passing...
Suddenly, my cat starts sassing.
Do not accept Death's duly defeat!
Alas, I follow through
and eject the poisonous stew.
Saved for now from my internal blue.
My fists pound on the ground over what I lost,
and my heart beats blood full of frost.
Oh, the cold calculating cost!
My father holds the Glock,
stopping the clock.
The final father/daughter talk.
Reaper reigns in his forever storm writhing,
while Life is the lighting.
Toast to souls forever reuniting.
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2015
On my street I lie in wait
I see the house that’s yet to wake
It dark and gloomy full of sounds
Like wind and rain and howling hounds
Squeaky swaying in the breeze
Creaking, croaking of nearby trees
But a boy am I too curious
I must enter and see the house
I enter in the light is still
Just seeping from the window sill
Then in it comes and startles me
A sound that is just so ghostly
I run but see a shadow grey
Stunned but cannot look away
I close my eyes and shield my head
Certain that I will be dead
Then I feel a gentle paw
It’s soft and creaking on the floor
I open my eyes and there I see
A cat sits there in front of me
I laugh and think what of me
How silly could I really be?
I walk as gently as a mouse
And step out of that old, old house
I see the cat and wave goodbye
The cat just looks into my eye
If I had stayed little while
I would have seen that old cat smile
And turn into a ghost of night
That would have caused me quite a fright
And then dark as night it disappeared
A room once filled now is clear.
Copyright © Nadine Hof | Year Posted 2007
It seems like just the other day
Our pup, Shadrack, did pass away;
And altho’ they never seemed like friends,
My old cat, Jorg, knew Shad had met
his untimely end.
He mourned his loss every day
And looked for Shadrack everywhere.
He’d mew and moan as if to say,
“We were friends. I do care.”
Then one night, an eerie howl
Awoke me from my sleep.
He’d found Shad’s toys and left no doubt
That his feelings did run deep.
So our tedious search began
To find another likely pup;
But while my poor wife still grieved,
Could another measure up?
We went to Second Chance and Free to Live.
She just could not make up her mind.
She loved them all; but, if she picked just one,
The rest would have to stay behind.
Then, quite by chance, there was a “pound pup”
Who’d been picked up from the streets.
He was a mutt, a “schnauza-pug”;
But he was awfully sweet.
He jumped up and kissed her frantically.
He seemed aware of his “iffy” situation.
He made the best of his opportunity.
Tears of joy told her elation.
“This is the one”, she smiled through tears,
As she held him... oh, so tight.
“I’m sure that Jorg will like him too.
Everything will be alright”.
And so it was, until one day
When old Jorg did pass away…
There was no hesitation on this sad occasion;
Come Saturday morning, we went straight
to the pound,
Open minded and hoping to be “saviors”,
Surely a nice cat was to be found.
“Sadly”, the lady said,” three kitties have only today.
There’s Andre and Panda and another one too”.
My wife smiled and said, “Jorg was your boy. You pick.
They’re both beautiful cats. It’s up to you”.
As I pondered this commitment
Another cat, a young one, caught my eye.
Like Jorg, he was a common gray tabby.
Fond memories were stirred. I almost cried.
On closer look, his name was Boris;
And, strangely, he was number three.
There was a small sign on his crate,
“I don’t like other cats and other cats don’t like me”.
But there was character in his eyes and he was cute.
He was rolling and purring and stretching.
He seemed to look deep into my heart
And did his best to be quite fetching.
But because he was just a common gray tabby,
And because of the little sign,
His chances were slim, his future quite dim
And one day is precious little time.
For a moment I was lost in his eyes
And I heard his desperate plea,
“I’m a swell cat and litter box trained.
Take me. Please, take me”.
“Well”, my wife urged, “is it Andre or Panda”?
“One of us will take the other kitty.”, two older ladies chimed.
“You can each have one ladies”, I said with a smile.
I want Boris and he wants to be mine”.
In just hours he was romping and rolling with Pepper,
Who had happily welcomed his new friend.
Boris was a perfect fit, an affirmation;
The Circle of Life never ends.
Much more Joy than Sadness in this Circle,
And there should never be regrets.
Honor their memories and all the love they share,
Never break the Circle, never be without a Pet.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014