The house sits silent.
All but for the creaks and groans
as the house settles on it’s aging foundation.
The arthritic sound of wood.
A faint hum from the refrigerator,
is the backdrop, to the passing of time
from the Grandfather clock in the hall.
A cat sits on the stairwell landing.
A silent witness to the night.
It’s green eyes glowing softly,
within the slash of moonlight.
The gentle sounds of sleep
come from the rooms above.
The slow steady drip of a faucet,
the only sound within the home.
A breeze sweeps through an open
French door, billowing, gauzy curtains.
Carrying with it the scents
of Honey suckle and Rose.
The wood rope swing that hangs
from the gnarled tree, is caught
up in the nighttime breath, to cast about.
The old rope squeaks it’s protest.
The wind in the leaves rustle out
their own soft song. Singing to sleep
the birds and small creatures of the day.
Welcoming the night hunters.
As the night passes and the sun begins to rise,
so too the house awakens.
The cat uncurls to stretch
and head out the open door.
the drip of the faucet,
is now a steady stream,
Washing off a face of sleep.
From the kitchen, comes the smell
of coffee freshly brewing.
So starts the new day.
The sun will ride this day's sky,
to set once again.
The house will settle anew,
welcoming the night time stage.
Copyright © Paula Swanson
I'm like a one-eyed cat peepin' in a seafood sto'
I'm like a one-eyed cat peepin' in a seafood sto'
Well I can look at you and tell you ain' no child no mo'
A few interpretations for this visually challanged and rather paranoid creature:
Still makes me hungry just don't LOOK good as it used to or
Still smells good, just ain't sure what I'm SMELLIN' no more or
Don't LOOK good as it used to, Don't SMELL good as it used to and
Definitely don't TASTE good as it used to or...
I was born that way, so what? or
Used to have two, now I only got one and
That's all you need to peep with anyways and
I think that's all you got left too so...
Let's put our eyes together on this thing and
Let's sneak over there and tom-peep that hole and
You peep on the women seafood and tell me about it and
I'll peep on the men seafood and tell you about it and...
Wait a minute here, something's not...
No, no I'm not gay! I swear I'm not!
I know by the above verse it might appear that way but
I swear to god! I swear to god I never...
Alright now, this has gone JUST ABOUT FAR ENOUGH and
You can't hardly tell them apart anyway and
The men don't even have one...they just kinda sprinkle, you know and
The rest just...How do I know? Well I-uh...read it somewhere and...
Oh, just kiss my big you-know-what! and
Wait!...I-I mean...if you're a FEMALE fish you can or a lady uh...
Oyster? Or girl crab or ..Hey, stop that!...Ow!
I didn't say...Ouch! Why you!...(Sigh) let's try this again, shall we?
Sorry folks...Just had to get this out of my system...Hope you think it's funny and
What?... WELL!! Kiss my-my uh...Elbow!...yeah, that's it! My elbow...
Bill Haley and the Comets became rich and famous for doing a 'sanitized' version of this song in 1954... Big Joe's original was considered too suggestive and sexual for white audiences...
Second verse for example:
'Way you wear those dresses, the sun come shinin' thru
Way you wear those dresses, the sun come shinin' thru
I can't believe my eyes all that mess belong to you'
(In 'proper' English: THE way you wear those dresses)
Copyright © Tim Ryerson
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
written 7th May 2013
Time for a nap
said the cat
Time to play
said the puppy, his tail waved
Time for class
did you hear the bell teacher asked
Time for tea, called mum
why, your're always last young son!
Time for bed, dad called
all went quiet down the hall
Brush your teeth, yelled mum
finally, tucked in tight
All dreamed peacefully, till sunlight
Copyright © Denise Hopkins
Deep breath to shake it
Cold chill slivers down fast
Beating against cage of heart
Cage of body
Cage of soul
Legs begging to run
Heart aching to be free
Truth to self
aching to be seen
Sweet scent of dry savannah plains
Sharp smell of thorny veins
The aroma of Africa surrounds
Scents sights sounds
In these home is found
Snarling at every motion made
Scared but defiant
Blinded by fear and rage
Paws long for endless journeys
On paths walked centuries ago
For elegance in element
A space all her own
Where earth still bleeds red on horizon
Morning and night
Continuing the endless fight
Fight for borderless freedom
The pale yellow green eyes
Dismays the truth inside
But tell the story
Of wild soul
Story to unfold
Copyright © Fierce Malilangwe
Tom Thumb, with split ears and abscess,
came to us on an autumn night.
A feline atlas with alley hard shoulders,
but a calm, cool warrior nonetheless.
Named for his Hemingway mittens,
an irony of bulk to literary lore,
for he surely would make a short meal
of a murine steed fit for a King’s jester.
His years of wrangling had earned him,
A craggy pelt of scars under a crooked halo,
all wrapped up in a ripe orange hirsute fleece.
There was something about that gnarled old pumpkin,
that found our hearts warm and happy to have him.
Though his life had been hard, he was quick to find
my Mother’s lap to be a very restful place.
Dear Tom spent the better part of a decade in our home.
The years of ease softened his shoulders,
and hastened his purr, though he still had spunk.
The leaves of autumn learned to be weary of old Tom,
for he would shred on sight, the first leaf to fall.
As the years passed, the warmth of the sun,
found more often, Tom sitting with closed eyes,
enjoying the feel of his crimson fur.
Until an afternoon, late in the harvest season,
poor old Tom had been sick.
He sat proud in the sun for one last long sun bath,
warm as our hearts between his apricot strips.
Bast came for her brother the very next day,
to fetch him off to the land that never forgets.
“Fare-the-well dear Tom and may the autumn leaves,
suffer your claws for as long as the sun never sets.”
Copyright © Beau Regard
Hey there midnight.
How was your day?
And how goes the night?
Lay there and sleep tight.
We're just as afraid
as we all are alright.
So light me up a fire
while we sing along the wires
with a choir who desires
to deserve some peace and quiet...
Tonight is midnight.
Where the sun fades away
in the shade of moonlight.
So goodnight and dream bright.
Like the clouds glow with jade
in the midnight moonlight.
Copyright © Jorge Tuazon
I do not know?
Dreams idyllic so weaved....
The sun yet to rise amid the still of an ancients early morn ~
With a train passing by upon this the first day in another falls arrival
And, a little black cat befriended as of late inching nearer now
Hoping for a moment in kindness, a morsel of food, a stroke aneath warmth
Creation touching creation; lucidity; kisses of love....
Gazing into my beautiful Fathers eyes and all which becomes as light ~
Deep inside sidereals mirrored reflection that I find, heavens ever reaching
To caress these spirits and bless their heart; this heart
Searching for the key in this breath to be free ~ As a baby doe
Listens closely unto the hunters explaining just why it is that
They hunt to stock in craft to slay, their innocent precious loved ones?!
While off the little cat goes amid the great unknown yet known; always
Knowing; as the sun makes its way to greet the life of a new borne day
Anointing these eyes and spirits and hearts and souls so weaved ~
Ancient; that they may find as a dream this key within, a mirrors reflection....
....“Idyllic Creations Ever Reaching ~ `Loves, Kiss of Lucidity`” *
Copyright © John Rhinem