The sun shone brightly at last
On this breezy spring day
A black cat stalked a yellow bird in play,
As he stepped lightly across the fields of grass
Covered with dew , Alarmed , the bird flew
Leaving the cat with nothing to do
The sun shone brightly
on this breezy spring day
As the mouse appeared suddenly
through the field of grass
And once again the cat turned to play
Copyright © jim joyce
“My grandfather was strong and mighty, till he died at age of ninety.
The clock then stopped to run no more.
Then one of my relations wrote a song, sung for generations.
I think of it more and more:
“My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor.
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a penny-weight more . . .”
Shaken from his quaint digression, his face in tense expression,
He renewed his dire obsession
About what made the clock strike in the night.
He slipped to the room adjacent, above an empty basement,
Where stood the clock’s encasement – opened so very slight.
Moving with stealth, and in no hurry,
He saw an object hunched and furry;
His cat stood vigil in the night, with eyes reflecting light.
A mouse, the cat had faced, into the clock was chased,
And up the pendulum raced, quickly taking flight.
Climbing the clock’s encasement, the mouse’s weight displacement,
Tripped the spring so tight; it struck with awesome might!
Striking twelve it had numbered, his muddled thoughts encumbered,
Scared awake from slumber in the night.
“All of this is so confusing, could I, these years be using
The clock with spring so tight?”
In his mental delusion he added to the confusion,
For this intrusion in the night.
There was nothing he couldn’t handle
With his shotgun on the mantle by the door,
With it he could surely even up the score.
With the menace looming bigger, he quickly pulled the trigger
Then the grandfather clock was no more
And the cat and mouse— a taxidermy chore.
Copyright © James Tate
An empty barn was the home of a dog;
outside buzzing bees attacked a tiny cat...
joyful was the song of a parched bird.
An hour ago, happy was the warbling bird;
no rascals bothered the skinny, smelly cat...
they didn't get close to the hungry dog.
Rain came and it worried the shivering cat;
spring showers were the joy of the bird...
he could have been the prey of the dog.
Sunshine returned: the dog barked, the cat ran and the bird fled.
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
Twas every day upon the arbor
that a certain early bird eagerly sang.
Every day, as sun appeared, his audible
voice awakened bluebells…allowing this
opera house a song and sight of spring.
Always dreaming of Spring, along with
its serenading offspring; for ears to enjoy,
craving eyes to appreciate… feastings offered
with a daily entertainment value of sight and sound.
It was every day aside this arbor
Mother excitedly sat. Alongside her.
in silent anxiousness, sat always her angry cat,
awaiting the early bird…a lush angora.
All rights reserved @ Debra Squyres 2013
Written for: Consonant /Vowel sequence contest
Copyright © Debra Squyres
To look at your eyes,
They’re so big and so brown.
I’d reach forward to pet you,
Ears fall to the ground.
My eyes fill with tears,
As I pull away,
How many years
Have you been caged this way?
How long has it been?
Since you took a swim?
How long did you wait
For a scratch on your chin?
How many nights
Have you slept all alone?
When is the last time
You chewed on a bone?
I’m taking you home
Is all I could think,
I’ll fill you with food,
So much water to drink.
You can play with new friends,
Have a bed of your own.
Even sleep with us all,
Instead of alone.
There will be no more cages,
And bars like a jail,
I will scratch your chin,
Until you wag your tail.
Welcome home sweet one
Please do come on in,
Hey look at our pool,
Let’s go for a swim.
Copyright © Athena Hoefs