Black markings shade the space beneath green eyes,
for Friday night means football in these parts.
The name is Simon, snooping is my art,
my reg'lar seat's beneath two hefty guys.
There's plenty popcorn almost ev'ry time -
bits of sandwiches, chips and pizza parts.
When our team's doing good and scoring yards,
dessert is ice cream -makes my purr-er chime.
I share with Sugar, tablemate tonight.
Before the crowd leaves, we will scamper off.
Mix cats with water; there'll be a riot.
On Friday night, good food is my delight
but we get out before they hose the trough.
Game called for rain? means we're on a diet!
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.
He lay dying_ slowly did his life pass
Watching others as they moved about room
As his heart failed, fluid filled him enmass
More than his body could handle consume
Legs swollen so that look like muscle man
Stomach swollen sounds as ripe watermelon
Lived a good life years beyond most lifespan
Pain in eyes _ don't really need this athlon
God how can in life some have to suffer much
The depth of their suffering you have shown me
Through the death of this pet whose so soft touch
Touched our hearts to depth in death _ made me see
Instant death_ here; then gone_ suffering little
So sad_ long death slow torture overbattle_
As I was checking out the cats on view,
I saw just one who even seemed to care.
She put white paws up to the glass, this Blue
Calico with long, gray orange hair.
Although her nature mattered most to me,
I liked that she was small, with eyes of green.
And nestling in my arms, she proved to be
both gentle and uncommonly serene!
Inside our house, she didn't run or hide
like other cats that we'd brought home before.
She jumped onto the bed and lay beside
us both, then later found things to explore.
Delightful like her name was our new cat,
I couldn't have been happier for that!
For Ryan Jackson's "Animals on your mind... Poetry Contest"
His chicken vanished from the face of Earth
unhappy and distressed connected so
with sites of poetry where lost pets' dearth
transformed to versicle expression's flow.
Logorrhea of namby pamby lines
and balderdash of verbose gardyloo
bombarded him with rounds of porcupines
stampeded unctuous like rabid gnoo.
But on the other hand he met some birds
composers of refined and sightly verse,
with glinting souls and clever words,
their intellect's expressions wise and terse.
And when he searched of whom to value most
received his chicken's metrical riposte.
© G.V. 09-14-2013 All rights reserved
< amidst grass carpet he plays
long ears bushy tail white paws
nibbles bulbs munches away
poor little thing had some flaws
hides hair braided and despaired
didn't stop this little guy
thought to self this wasn't fair
bowed head and started to cry
nectar is what he had sought
on this hopeful days journey
not to be trapped or be caught
or carted off on gurney
Mister Nibbles came to play
In garden's bedding today
I have a feeling
that my dog is so spoiled
that she doesnt like dog food anymore
apperently she want's filet min yung and lobster
well this isint the surf and turf doggie cafe
get your head outa your furry butt
and eat your alpo
October is the mellowest month
when all the leaves turn flaming red,
and squirrels munch on a fallen nut.
Notice how the days get shorter,
how the chill reminds of Holidays
that yesterday was a thought too far.
People stroll and enjoy the nice weather,
as they watch trees being stripped of their jewels,
but sad as Nature seems, fantasy can go far.
I sit on a park bench as Lassie, the golden retriever,
barks inviting me to hurl the ball as high as I can,
then runs like a tiger to catch it in the festive air.
She returns with the ball pinned within her strong teeth,
and as all the leaves turn flaming red, they fall on my feet.
Death of Bruce, My Friend
Bruce, my puppy died so very , very long ago
buried him in a grave deep beneath the snow
Vanished, the days of tramping wood and field
no more would such joy his countenance yield
Looking back seeing more sweet joy than sad
thank God and childhood for blessings we had
Remembering well the nights he slept in my bed
often climbing up to lay beside my little head
Attempting to crush memories of his sad fate
yet thinking of him often, so often as of late
A hero the time he attacked that poisonous snake
getting snakebit instead for his master's sake
A friend, a love , no greater has a boy ever had
In dog Heaven he awaits and I am so very glad
I had Bruce from age five years old until age
eleven. Six wonderful years, blessed years and
Even now at sixty not a week goes by that I don't
think of him , his loyalty and his faithful love.
I wrote this about twenty years ago. Found it
today in a scrap book , with no date attached but
remember writing it one week before Christmas in 1994.
Found the Christmas card from a dear friend(now departed)
right there with it...
who roam the dingy streets as common strays
or lie luxuriously within our laps--
fear not, for milk still flows beyond your days,
as do the silken cream and tuna-snaps.
Too long have dogs alone been known to rise;
tis time you too ascend to lofty gate:
oh being of nimble step and keen of eyes,
you are most qualified for such a fate!
So sleep; itself the problem shall amend,
and benediction will you soon receive.
To paradise you'll fly come tether's end,
or so I independently believe.
To such a notion should the world concur:
cats should in Heaven be allowed to purr!