Poshpaws was our beloved pussy cat
She would clean her fur when sat on the mat
Loved to be stroked, we could tickle her tum
Her purr was loud like the noise from a drum
Large emerald eyes would sparkle and gleam
Her coat so soft with a beautiful sheen
She would lie in the sun from dusk till dawn
Rouse from her dreams with a pussycat yawn
Dad did not like cats - that’s what he would say
But on his lap Poshpaws would always lay
She’d follow my Dad all around the house
Make no noise, be as quiet as a mouse
She slipped away from us aged only ten
Buried in a beautiful shady glen
Contest: I love my Pets
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
Although two other felines enjoyed their lap time
Atop them the dominating Katy would climb
The lap she didn’t want; she sat right on my face
Katy felt this was her right; she had claimed this space
If I tried to watch TV, her paw closed my eyes
If challenged, with a huffy hiss she would chastise
At mealtime she’d growl, chasing other cats away
How did I come to adopt this demanding stray
At the Humane Society, I passed her cage
She clawed my sleeve and my attention she engaged
Smarter than most cats, Katy was queen of our house
She’d just yawn if we were invaded by a mouse
For twenty-two years, Katy always made me smile
The morning she passed, I felt like I’d lost a child
*Written November 5, 2014, in honor of Katy Cat.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014
It is the laziest of all creatures,
It could eat and eat filet all the day long.
Investigative eyes is a feature,
And it will sing to you its forlorn song.
It will avoid you like the plague by day,
Skulking, running, bounding, from room to room.
By night it searches through the halls for its prey,
The hunted will meet its impending doom.
The whisper of whiskers against the door,
Tip-toe, pitter-patter, sneakily creeps.
All at once bounding across the floor,
Whoosh goes the paw across the mouse hole deep.
“Drat!” says the cat, missed the mark once again,
Once more the mouse hunt will have to begin.
Copyright © Hanna Potter | Year Posted 2013
Upon his favored pillow, curled up tight
he sleeps through happy hours without a stir,
tail wrapped around and paws tucked out of sight,
beneath his purring ball of gray-striped fur.
Awake, he fills my hours with happiness—
he pats my cheek with his soft gentle paw
when closely held and purrs with my caress,
while loving gold-green eyes leave me in awe.
Outside, when called, he runs into my arms;
more like a pup, he shows deep loyalty.
My Charlie, so endowed with loving charms…
a special, blessed creature sent to me.
Such tender love for him I feel inside.
His love for me can never be denied.
Sandra M. Haight
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest: Furry Friend
Sponsor: Royal T.
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014
Each morning, when I first awake;
a daily vigil, I will take.
I arch my back and I stretch out long;
this helps my body to grow strong.
To my box, I take a walk;
release a stench, in lime-like chalk.
I dine in silence, savoring;
the tasty flavors…mouth-watering.
Upon my favorite stool, I sit;
paws tucked beneath, belly and chest.
‘till I transcend, my physical home.
I am a Buddha-cat, you see
And a Bodhisattva, I hope, to be.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015
Summertime Fun - Not
Vacation time—escape from daily chores;
excitement beckons from the sunny beach!
Refreshing ocean pounding at its shores
and realm of freedom well within my reach.
Yet, part of me is trapped behind in gloom
in thoughts about my lonely feline pets
now boarded in a strange, confining room,
their lack of freedom stirring deep regrets.
If only they could know that I’ll return
to let them roam again the home they know
and give them once again the love they yearn—
my heart would be relieved from aching so.
But what goes on within each little mind
while I am free and leave them caged behind?
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Summertime Fun
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015
You have to love them to sift their latrine,
The uric fragrance burning your nose and eyes
As you render their special place fresh and clean--
One of them watches, impatient, and sighs.
You have to be ready for sleep-rending howls
When one recovers his ragged cloth ball--
At twelve or two--shaking it with feral growls,
Boasting his prey up and down the hall.
You must be attentive--even at four--
If bowls are empty and bellies not full:
Rude rattling and scratching on the bedroom door
Has such a hypnotic, nerve-racking pull.
How apt the pharaohs decreed them divine,
While litter-box slaves were treated like swine.
Copyright © B.B.Woodall Tulsa OK | Year Posted 2014
Little Black Cat
Little black cat amidst the trees
I see you sitting mind all free
I see the silence in your form
Your body snug, your coat so warm
I’d love to look within your soul
You look so peaceful, and so whole
Hey you could teach the human race
You’d show them how to live with grace
Little black cat, please do me show
How I can sparkle with that glow
That resonates from you, dear cat
Oh, show me please where you are at
My lovely cat all black and white
How you do give me sweet delight
1 May 2016
Copyright © peter duggan | Year Posted 2016
This Old House Comforts Me
This old house, box where I rest my weary head,
my soul sleeps here, with uneasy comfort -
these four walls, they hold my precious sanity,
a SMALL service that matters not when I am dead.
Glorious roof, keeps the rain from waking me,
blocks the beautiful night sky, a small price-
to pay for secure and very dry retreat,
yet sacrifice, sacrifice always seems the key.
Solid floors, still they creak when I pace,
familiar noise like the bark of a friendly dog-
so unlike a cat's meow that says, you serve me,
this is my sweet abode, you are easy to replace.
This old house, box where I rest my weary head,
family lives here, dog lays at foot of the bed.
Robert J. Lindley
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
My cat Meeni was as white as ball of mirth
I found her a sleeping in the crease of earth
When I touched her she was purring like a hell
I was afraid she might call up catty yell
I was living in the hills over yonder
I stopped a little and took time to ponder
This little soul might be a God's gift to me
I had to take her home I danced like a bee
I nursed her bruises and wiped her hazy eyes
The east of solitude sun began to rise
She licked my fingers like finger lickin' good'
I was sure she was demure I gave her food
I say it loud and clear she is a gem of cats
My daughter to be sure is not fond of rats
Pets - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Date : 28 November 2014
Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014
I see him by the old oak door,
and he is wet and sad it seems.
His fur is jet. Can not ignore
his paw is red, and in sunbeams,
I see he is one to deplore.
For now, I see the sad extreme
of the bad way he's in...has sore
on his one paw, and by all means
may be a pet of one nearby.
To get up now he can not try,
for his bad paw can not comply.
Now, sad I am for him, so that
I run to get wet rag and mat
to be a doc for pussycat.
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: The Funom's Sonnet
Sponsor: Funom Makama
Rules: all words must contain only three letters or less, except for end rhyme words.
Lines must have 7 or 8 syllables.
Rhyme scheme: a-b-a-b a-b-a-b c-c-c-d d-d
Note: the word cannot may also be spelled can not
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
I brush my cat for five minutes daily,
But she just wiggles and struggles and swats;
All I want is to enhance her beauty,
All I need is to get rid of those knots.
Oh darn the shedding, mating and hairballs,
She is very angry with me for hours;
I try to hold her but away she crawls,
I tempt her with treats but she looks so sour.
So I decided to give her a short cut,
Oh so baleful and upset and angry;
Now she is a lion on my blanket,
She sure looked mad as a hornet to me.
Staring with those eyes saying I bite,
Oh poor kitty you do look quite a sight!
October 24, 2015
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
The crouching cat in stillness looked above.
Without a sound or motion there he watched.
That predator beneath the tree ditched love.
Another victory would soon be notched.
A squirrel scurried up and down the trunk.
Between the leaves and sunlight she did play.
With patient eyes the feline spied and slunk
The feast he planned would satisfy his day.
Nonchalantly, scampering, squirrel teased.
A little closer to the cat she came.
Her vibrant running up and down did please.
The cat and squirrel play a deadly game.
Then, teasingly the squirrel came so close.
A lunge! But squirrel maintained life; speed bestows.
Ó April 18, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Form: English Sonnet
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Debbie and Cyndi's Sonneteers
Sponsored by: Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2012
Pumpkin head scarecrow hanging on wood stake
Lit and quite frightening, surely of late
As Halloween comes near he’s scarier
And he loves the hate inspired barrier
Laying on a pumpkin within the patch
Is the darkest black cat that doesn’t match
Any piece of the field is not like him
He’s unique in his charm and every whim
Together the cat watches out for man
Who might enter and try to harm pumpkins
They use their evil powers all they can
To keep out all of those that come within
Spirit of the scarecrow envelopes all
Who enter, protected by the cat’s call
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2013
Cat attack is always cat
Claw with their paw claw
Hissing with there hissing
Meowing a little meowing
Purring when purring
Jump and high jump
Fur every were is fur
Sneaking with quiet sneaking
Eyes that glow eyes
Ears that they move ears
Staring always looking staring
Pouncing to just pouncing
Eating food always eating
Growling when nearing growling
Sitting always every were sitting
Lying just to be lying
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2011
A pair of reposing
She calls Vladimir
And retarded Cat,
Are purring and pawing
In the soft domain
of her loving lap...
A distant admirer
Pets his intrigue,
A half eaten heart
Surrenders and dreams.
Oh felines of feeling
Closeness is surely
Better than cream...
Copyright © James Fredholm | Year Posted 2016
(Dedication: To "All-That-Is" --
"In You we move and breathe
and have our being."
My darling God, my dearest Lord:
Your love is great, your peace is sound.
Make my heart laud, may my soul horde;
Oblige my traits, observe my grounds;
Reach deeper still, rest firmer feel;
Niche in my heart, nest in my soul;
Incline your will, inscribe what heals;
Now let love start, new ways made whole;
Glimpse Spirit clear, grace that sparks cheer.
Poise in the light, praise in the groove;
Surpass fond cheer, surprise right here;
Appoint my night, appease day's moves;
Lord grant me quests, love works the best;
My God I rest, my Lord fling zest!
23 July 2014
Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014
I brush for fifteen minutes my kitty,
as she growls, wiggles and struggles and swats;
all I want to do is make her pretty,
I just need to get rid of a few knots.
Oh, all that shedding, moulting and hairballs,
she is very angry with me for hours;
I kiss her but no way- away she crawls,
I give her treats so she will not be sour.
But in time she forgives and she forgets,
we snuggle on the sofa together;
sweet joy, I got a knot out- no regrets,
except she bit me hard, oh whatever.
Kitty is silky and soft - an angel,
I love her although it can be painful.
August 27, 2016
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016
I call her Princess
She purrs by the gentleness of my caress.
I tease and please her with finesse.
And I love her with all I possess!
Of course she's a cat and likes my bed.
Sometimes I awake to find her sleeping instead!
She always smells sweet like gingerbread.
Princess loves the touch of the silk covered bedspread.
My Kitty cat loves to play,
And most of the time she gets her way.
When she's out and about.
She always takes a different route.
My Kitty is so gentle and so kind,
And when she purrrs it always blows my mind.....
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010
A sensitive renegade loosed on stage
Hardly there, for the sake of the masses
Occasionally prone to heartfelt rage
As smooth and sweet as sorghum molasses
A sideways clench sings out a yawning drawl
Twinkling fingers walk edges of cliffs
Striking low action to sooth and enthrall
Baring the entropy measured in fifths
Calling the people to wake from her dreams
Spinning in whimsy and alternate forms
Shifting like dust that dances a sun beam
Caught in the downpour of each lover’s storm
Tracing out lines from inside her visions
Penned reflections of folklore collisions
Copyright © andy thomson | Year Posted 2016