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
If I had a bottle of pills
I’d dump them out inside my mouth
Take the last few swigs of vodka
And swallow all of them down
If I had a big sharp knife
I’d drag the cold steel across my skin
If I thought for a moment it might
Bring this feeling to an end
I’d stare down the barrel
If I had a gun
Find the trigger with my finger
Pull it and be done
If I had a car
I’d park inside the garage
Leave the motor running
Till the poison filled my lungs
If I had a rope
I’d make myself a noose
Dangle there in my own doorway
Till somebody cut me loose
If I had someone to love
I'd probably treat them bad
Since that's all that I've known
In relationships of the past
If I had a heart in my chest
I'd be able to forgive and forget
But there is nothing left
Of that beating mass of flesh
So I'll just continue
Sitting all alone and in the dark
A typical evening in with the cat
Doesn't seem that bad after all.
Copyright © Lisa Hicks
Silent In a cage,
No blanket for a bed
The little kitten
Laid by its food
The lights in the building
Lit up above the cage
The sweet little Cat
Asleep and alone
A man quietly came in
The poor little kitty woke
The man approached and
The kitten spoke
The man held the kitten
And the kitten was happy
The man said, I want this
One and he waited
The people behind the counter
After a delay said no
The man left broken hearted
And the little cat sadly stayed
Will that little critter ever
Have a happy home
Or will it have to
Copyright © John Long
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
mournful cries fill the air
mother bird calling for its baby
eaten by the cat
mantis catches butterfly
I am sad: yet, that is
the way of nature
loud feathered thud
- flight into eternity
deceptive glass pane
Copyright © john beharry
Randomling 1: Matthew Macfadyen
I believe I'm in love with Matthew Macfadyen
He inspires in me a terribly bad yen
But as poetry goes
His name 'spires woes
Cause nothing rhymes with "Macfadyen”.
Randomling 2: Birthday Wishes
For my birthday, I would like a man.
I wonder---can you get one from a can?
Or maybe from a catalog?
Maybe I'll just get a dog.
Randomling 3: Yet Another Cat Poem
toddlers in fur
senior citizens with retractable claws
lions in their own minds
lunch in the minds of dogs.
Randomling 4: Desert Woes
A sage river in a field of sand:
so flows hope in a barren land;
the crippled heart in prosthetic steel,
hacked and scarred, a vulture’s meal.
Randomling 5: Dark Poetry
Follow poetry to its source;
There find heartbreak and remorse.
Follow poetry to the bitter end,
And there find death, its bosom friend.
Randomling 6: Ode to Bananas
an underappreciated fruit
sentenced to banananality
because yellow is their long suit.
Randomling 7: Untitled
this heart is closed to deposits.
There's no more room for pain.
Randomling 8: Untitled
My heart is sealed in a cold steel vault,
and I’ve lost the combination.
Randomling 9: Joyce Kilmer 2015
I think that I shall never see
A man as useful as a tree.
One has uses by the score;
The other one is apt to snore.
Randomling 10: Bedtime Prayers
Now I lay me down to sleep,
A leaden heart is mine to keep.
If I should die before I wake--
Now there’s an offer I’d gladly take.
Randomling 11: The Devil Wind
Fury with a smoky tail
Eddies of destruction
Deceitful beauty, enchanting danger
Death sporting a makeover
DON'T READ #12 IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR ME TALK TO MY SON ABOUT CERTAIN ASPECTS OF THE BIRDS AND BEES_________________________
Randomling 12: A Boy's Best Friend
Your penis—it is not a toy
I told my little son.
O yes it is, he parried me
It's quite my favorite one.
Randomling 13: Fault Lines
I have a bathroom mirror
that's grown faulty over time.
My reflection is no longer true;
it's developed little lines!
Randomling 14: Shakespeare 101
“To be or not to be. That is the question.”
--Whaddya mean, THE question?
Randomling 15: Christmas?
Peace on earth to men of good credit
Who give the gift of corporate profit
in the holy name of commercialism.
Randomling 16: Musical Believer
Though my conscience sleeps,
wrapped in the Valium of
agnosticism, it awakens to
the music of Mozart--
once more knowing God
by the sound of His voice.
Randomling 17: Vacuum
I didn't write a poem when you died.
The words would not come.
Perhaps I felt too deeply,
perhaps not enough;
maybe I died too. 10/06/01
Randomling 18: Insanity
Insanity is underrated
Its drawbacks,much overstated.
How else to do what you darn well please
And accomplish it with so much ease?
Randomling 19: Dog Day Afternoon
WATER! BALL! CHASE!
salt, waves, undertow
I don't know what's going
on here, but I'm HAPPY!
Randomling 20: Opposites Attract
i am matter---love, antimatter
never to meet save to explode
i am space, love is time
parallel dimensions never to meet
Randomling 21: Puppy Love
I ride a leaky newspaper raft
Adrift on the linoleum
Anxiously awaiting an
An attack of smelly
covered in fuzz:
Randomling 22: Newton's Poultice
Apple falls from tree
Newton (ouch!) takes notice
Comes up with law of gravity
while wearing a poultice
on the solstice
Randomling 23: Ticking
And the clock on the wall kept on ticking
while my life fell apart all around me.
Sweet memories faded to shadow
as my heart fell to pieces inside me.
And the clock on the wall kept on ticking
Relentlessly ticking, ticking
While my life fell apart all around me.
Randomling 24: Untitled
a mosaic assembled from
tiles of delight and
black-glazed stones of despair
in seamless beauty
Randomling 25: Seasonal Lament
end at both end
as summer falls into the
arm of winter. arm
Randomling 26: Untitled
I didn't want
to love you.
Randomling 27: Pills
Depression is days and nights curled fetal-like
in a dark room, no interest in the world outside,
idly wondering if there are enough
pills in the bottle to kill you,
then thinking it's not worth the effort
to find out because you're dead inside already.
Randomling 28: Guilt By Association
Fresh morning light frames
the cat, surrounded by piles of
dirt and deceased plants,
Randomling 29: Bell the Cat
How do you give a cat a bath?
Maybe you can do the math.
All I know is she stinks to high heaven.
And of us there are only seven.
How many humans to bathe a cat?
Definitely more than where we're at!
Randomling 30: Muse
I want to write a poem
using the word gossamer.
Randomling 31: Ripples
Canoes rock gently
under the waxing moon.
Black water ripples,
painting a beautiful scene
under the scented pines.
Randomling 32: Sunshine Waterfall
I cleanse my face in a sunshine waterfall,
luxuriate in a sunshine shower.
Waterfall flow and warm me;
sprinkle lemon drops through my hair.
Randomling 33: Salon Treatment
Hurricanes scour everything
they touch, then rinse and blow
Randomling 34: My Window
Blue sky pokes its face
through the canopy of trees.
Heat wave is over!
Copyright © Mary Oliver Rotman
The crashing waves hit the bow, as we cut through waters deep.
Clasped in irons that cut the skin; forged in the fires that never sleep.
The desert was dry, the sun beat down, I am free as a bird
The breeze tickled through the oasis, near the camel herd
Now my love is fading, like the burnt embers of those flames.
I am now branded a thief and prisoner, amongst some other names.
The hate I felt for the whore that tried to give his love to me.
Was so strong I felt I could kill him, my love he will never see.
I stole for her a flower, a simple heart felt gift.
The perfume now a memory, on this prison galleon adrift.
I am traveling to my wedding, across the desert so hot and dry.
Perfumed flower petals along the way, by slaves are scattered awry.
Seven years the price for my gift of love it did gain.
Hard labour I endure, to avoid the leather cat pain.
My arms are full of bracelets, and pearls hang round my neck.
I never think of him, now shackled on that deck.
Her kisses sublime, a memory fading, the perfume of her skin and hair
The price is high but I will pay, I took her from him to be fair.
To think I could have kissed. him makes my skin fairly crawl.
But the plan worked well, for my new rich lover, it managed to enthrall.
Slaves to love, there is no choice, when our hearts lead us astray.
I stand here windswept and tear stained, with seven years to pay.
How dry my eyes now he has gone, freedom is beckoning me.
So easy it was to frame him, now he has seven years before he is free.
I stand in the wind, rope in hand, waves crashing all around.
My ankles are bleeding with the chains, and the cat makes a whistling sound.
I lay on cushions with rings on my fingers the slaves are fanning me.
My wrists are bathed in rose oil, and kissed perpetually.
My love is strong, my heart is given, and I know I will endure.
My love will wait for me, my beauty, my life, my own sweet amour.
Thank goodness I kept my heart for me, and for me alone.
This thing called love is foolish, my heart it has never known.
In collaboration with Declan Fitzgerald who started the story off which made it easy to alternate my side of the story as a femme fatale between his couplets.
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl
Several women were in the breezeway
Going from the sanctuary to the Fellowship Hall.
On either side of the French doors,
They gazed out the large windows in fear.
As I walked up to them, one of them asked
In hopeless desperation, "Who will go outside
And get the supplies for us." They looked at each other.
She said this because the enemy was on our shores,
Patrolling every city, great and small. I saw the armies.
People were afraid to venture outside their houses.
There were no soldiers in the street at this time.
It was a clear day. I said to them, "I will go."
I opened and closed one French door and felt it...
FEAR was thick. It crouched like a black jungle cat,
Panther or jaquar, lurking in the brush for prey.
My eyes were wide open as I walked the distance
Of the Staff's parking area. There was a chamber
Underground set aside for certain supplies.
The enemy's presence was strong as I looked around.
I think I had to unlock its door before I opened it.
I took what was needed and walked through Fear.
I never saw him, but the enemy's threat to pounce
Was felt with each step until I quickly reached the porch
And entered back inside the church in front of the office.
(This is a dream I had the year after 9/11.)
Copyright © Leon Stacey
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.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin
An unwelcome guest –
A cat sits on a wall
Beside the busy street!
Copyright © Asif Andalib
It must be a wicked cat hater,
more capricious than a little bear,
who hung you on that long, white hook...
how much pain is reflected in that sad look!
It must be someone so heartless,
not having a bit of kindness...
ah, poor cat needing pet's care,
I am hoping you'll hang in there!
Do you want me to be your caring friend?
I'll wash your dirty fur with Baby Shampoo,
I'll even get a pink band for your cute hairdo,
and spoil you with clothes you never had!
Why is the door locked from inside,
I hear her laughing as if she were on a joy ride....
forgetting your hunger pangs that to her don't mean a lot;
oh, how you crave some canned food on the largest plate!
I will knock on that door ten times and moan like a grizzly bear,
and demand that she come out and explain her heneous crime:
why she has hung you as a puppet that can't breathe and smile;
and if her heart is made of stone...it will melt as I say, " Hang in there! "
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
Poor kitten with sad eyes and drooping legs, almost lifeless,
hanging from a long hook: who could have done such
a terrible thing to a pet that needs kindness?
How can someone threat a cat with much
wickedness and not feel the evil touch?
Your useless meow will not be heard by no one,
the collar is too tight and it might choke you to death;
only the one who has hung you up there, to suffer alone,
can take you down to end the misery by restoring your breath...
footsteps approach, it's not her! But hang in there, kids laugh!
Their faces turn pale as they get closer, but their little hearts seem to be fainting
upon discovering the kitten so miserable and they scream gripped by fear,
"Snowbright, not now...hang on life, we are coming; Snowbright, we are coming! "
Oh, finally the breathless kitten looks down as she is welcomed by a frantic cheer!
Hasn't anyone heard a moaning cat hanging by a hook, and not lift a ear?
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
There once lived a cat named Doll she drink alcohol.
Everyday she'd drink and drink until her breath became rank and stank.
Not A drop did she pour down the sink.
Then one night she got so drunk she stumbled out the door and wasn't seen no more.
Then three days later her body was found in a big lake where she lay drown.
The news was heard all around cat city.
"Such a pretty cat" they'ed say "Oh what a pity"
Why did such a thing happen to this kitty?
A autopsy was done to see why she died, she drown of course but it's what they found inside.
They said that she was high after sniffing catnip all day, then she got drunk and went out to play.
How sadden they all were to hear such a thing.
The funeral is now over and she now lies in her grave six feet under.
Copyright © Kable Hendrix
a poor cat
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
Somewhere in the distant hill
lies a dilapidated old house that might give one chill
An old gentleman and his lady fare
were loners of life because they were the only ones there
Protecting a little child-teen of 13
A lonely nerd or nebbish boy who only dreamed
to make friends with the outside but his inner self hide
the longings of a boy who was too bashful to confide
his parents took him from school because his
school-mates called him an Ugly and a Fool
Together,as three,they lived in this mansion ennui
The tales that can be told of this existence that
has kept them a Dead and one Cold
The Father took him Fishing(out back Yard there is a Hole)
to catch a big one-in their imagination mind-it is only a small peace
that both of them could ever find
Peri-Gonvre,the lad's name..that his school mates mocked LAME
All through the house,a child's laughter that scares away the most
disgusting cat or mouse
Both hands,left and right,has only two fingers each,that God made right
The attic above the 2nd story hall can only fit him because it is
5 inches too small(The Father-KinMen,designed it to be as confining as
the fireplace against the Stone Brick Wall)
Peri-Gonvre uses the room for his 'scape,from the island New England
that wanted to rape:the very spirit and the life of this like
sitting against the darkness,his eyes drifted far from the mortal Pike
SILVIA the feline little kitten coddled up next to him in this lonely Prison
She is the only cat to be allowed,
brighten up his disposition(disperse that iluminnescent Black Cloud)
Angel of the nightly SKY is first to shine upon the loneliness Guy
END OF PART 1
Copyright © Brad Travers
I will never forget the Feast of Tabernacles at Lake Arrowhead
I spent my nights there in our beautiful rented house
With Spy loyally by my side
He slept on my bed and kept me feeling comfortable and happy
We cuddled close to each other during the cooler nights
When I begin to shiver slightly (I know, I’m such a Californian!)
He would warm me up, laying across my neck—a purring scarf
During my most emotional prayers, he was there,
And he looked at me curiously with his beautiful, yellow-green eyes
He never failed to make me smile wide
Throughout many hardships,
His presence and his love toward me kept me going
I know that the memory of him and all the good times we had
Will help me endure through the hardships coming
He grew up to be a very fine cat
He followed me everywhere it seemed, my second shadow
Friendlier than most cats I have owned in the past,
He got along with everyone in the family
People say that cats are very independent and moody
—I would say Spy was quite the opposite
When he met my friend Allie for the first time,
He immediately fell in love with her and rubbed against her legs
He even laid on his back showing her his belly
When we sat down, he would curl up beside us,
Watching inquiringly, wondering what we were doing
When six kittens were born on a lovely Sabbath day,
Spy would get inside the drawer they were in,
Curl up around them and keep them warm
Until the mother returned after her meals
He was a fantastic father to them, though he was scared at first,
Like I presume all fathers are to some degree
The only complaints I had for Spy were his morning rituals—
Desperate begging out of hunger at odd hours of the morning
He liked to lay on my head, yowl loudly in my ear, scratch the walls,
Or paw my face if I ignored him in my bed
Come to think of it, I also used to get so irritated my him
As I would descend down the stairs to my room
He would always have the need to race me to the bottom
No matter what he had to reach the bottom first and he never failed
One time, I was determined to beat him to the bottom,
So before he noticed I was shooting down the stairs,
I desperately fumbled down the stairway like a maniac
When I reached the last few steps, frenzied with soon-to-be glory,
Suddenly Spy leaped down the stairs, and jumped right off the side rail,
Landing on the bottom on all four feet, ensuring his vivacious victory
I must admit, it was pretty damn epic
Of course, a sore loser once again,
I gave up with a playful glower,
Scooping him in my arms, kissing him on the head
"You silly thing..." –
Was an expression often repeated on various occasions
It is hard to express how I feel
It is truly like losing a family member
Spy is gone now I can see the pain in each family member’s eyes
Especially after the trip to Arrowhead, Spy and I,
We were like two peas in a pod
Thank you for reading
I want all of you to know,
I am thankful to have you in my life
We are blessed to have each other
And to share experiences together
Let’s make the best out of this life
We never know what tomorrow will bring, but let us not fret
I am just happy I had the time I had with Spy
He will always be a huge part of my life
The beginning of Spy's life was a tragedy as well
He was thrown out of a moving car with four kittens, and left for dead
I was angry at the people then,
But now I am at peace,
I now pray earnestly for those that harm others
The fact that Spy suffered before his death severely saddens me
But I am comforted in the fact that he now rests peacefully
Spy Breidenthal May 2013-October 18, 2014
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal
Our Joe's died
20 Years I had our Joe
And then she died
My baby got sick
My baby was in pain
It's just a cat
But I pleaded with god
Make her well again
She wanted my bed
I'd sleep on the floor
She could have asked for the world
I'd have given her more
She lived my life
All the years with me
And even in pain she stayed by my side
Then she asked me
By the look in her eyes
I'm tired I hurt
Please let me go
And it's just a cat
And I had to let her go
But my hearts broken
So dont try to tell me
That it's just a cat
Cos it was my cat
My cat and I know
Copyright © Beverley Key
The rat tiptoed to the house, picks up a thread
While the soft spoken black cat is, still, in bed
Sleepy, but, she is to battle it, to win, for today
To gain her breath, in solitude, for another day
At first, she will fetch water, from a sacred well
Passing through the silent field of fears, of hell
While the sympathetic morning moon watches
And giving her consoles, with uplifting touches
Of hopes, to warm her shaken, but noble heart
From the cold of early morn, that torn her apart
Before the fading moon could bid her goodbye
Her tiny feet has swollen red, like a chicken fry
The rat sadly waves her bye to the fading moon
She kisses gladly the first crow, with her broom
To sweep the scattered butts, of Marlboro Light
Before favored kitten come, and give her a fight
She uses her magic matches to light the sticks
Delicately set at the center of a three big bricks
Eggs and bacon, with riz Cantonese to prepare
The boiling silvery pot, patiently, waits her care
While the family feasts, the rat runs to the room
To fix the beds’ pleats, and then, she will zoom
To clean the ruin of wars, on the two slab tables
Before, she finds herself drown, in little bubbles
Her paled skin got burned, from the blazing sun
While the soft spoken black cat enjoying the fun
Of watching, the afternoon entertainments show
That the rat never sees, for she has list to follow
But, before the day ends, the poor rat was bitten
By the soft spoken black cat, left.....right up to ten
That made her soul cries, under the mango tree
Hides her tears, in the dark, no one will ever see
Only when the soft spoken black cat’s gone away
Thus, the rat feels happy, for she has time to play
In a world, where no creatures exist, but, just her
She now lives in illusion, in her own, fake laughter
The rat has beaten many times the first cockcrow
For the soft spoken black cat, not to live in sorrow
Till she left her, nothing, but full of fear and wraths
Forever haunt her, even if, she takes dozen baths
O God, the rat has a phobia, ‘cos of this black cat
Won’t you ever pity seeing her sleeping in a mat?
Or when somebody, with shot, scratches her tail?
For I cannot stand, seeing how human beings fail
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago
(This is a true story)
When I saw a dead cat lying on the road, it made me feel bad.
This yellow cat had been killed by a car and it was very sad.
I can imagine how that cat's owner must feel.
They must be hurting because of this ordeal.
My own cat died several weeks ago and I felt misery within.
It's bad when a pet dies because you'll never see it again.
Copyright © randy johnson
once there was a girl
with big green eyes
yet before the sun
was fully seen,
(big surprise) someone
unfurled the girl-
what more- what poor
poor innocent soul
who suffered the toll
some body stole.
how sweet it was-
remeet me cuz
i'm gone. so smart
such great potential-
starving artist (seemingly
essential) make me
what you want to
see; i'll be whoever,
i'll do it with glee,
(when i cannot see)
i trust you- you
lust me- i'm confused
until you teach me,
burst in, breaching my
little brim. no matter,
come in! come in!
it isn't i who commits
not i, i couldn't even see in.
so much for growth, the
more sparks, the more it
distorts- creates distinct
pieces. stored in creases of
my skin oblivious, content
with the innate terror.
i'm a blinking VACANCY- what
you see __ whatever you
please. sit, stay- shut up &
lie complacent; don't cry-
don't choke on the chain. nothing
in life is fair- come one- come
all, ride this- ride that
(all the while he sat,
cleaning himself like an
Copyright © rachel hart
I look at your face, and I see:
A smile and a shy.
A girl and a grin.
I look at your hair, and I see:
A wave and a wish.
A cat and a crest.
I look in your eyes, and I see:
A twinkle and a tear.
A sparkle and a sad.
I look for your love, and I see:
Afraid and a friend.
A trade and a trend.
I look at your life, and I see:
A laugh and alone,
And a boy who's your own.
I look at my face, and I see:
A smile and a grin.
A girl and I'm shy.
I look at the sea, and I hear:
A wave and a crest.
A cat and a wish.
I look through my eyes, and I see:
A twinkle in the sand.
A sparkle in a tear.
I look for your love, and I seem
Afraid of a friend.
I trade for amends.
I live for your look, and I see:
A laugh on your own,
And a boy who's alone.
Copyright © Luke Kenneth Casson Leighton
Off to Kaduna my mind flies,
Off to Zaria my soul first alighted,
Gently ! Gently !! Gently !!!
Echoes the man behind the wheel.
He trudges on day-dreaming
Concerned not about our hues over cries
His pace was like that of a snoring bush pig.
We yawned , jawed but move up
Our faces full of displeasure
The Lagos lady banker took him up
As Alhaja and Alfas added flavour
Can he ever gear up even without bump?
Nothing changes his old leopard nature
I tried spice it up when I woke up
But to the face of him I met no favour
As he shrug off, and belt up
He returned to his snail-crawling seizure.
At the abysmal of his mind
He must be feigning fulfillment
Cat-walking at a speedometer of a tortoise
Fast like an archaic “Loko” train.
To the driver whose forehead reads . . .
And whose lips echoes endlessly
“Its better to be late than to be a late”
For a Life is duplicated not
Nothing is as sweet as cat walking
Snail-pacing in all sojourns.
Alayande Stephen. T
21st ,July, 2006.
En-route my way to an NCP meeting in
Kaduna, the luxurious Marcopolo boarded
Merely cat walked all thorough.
Copyright © Alayande Stephen