Poetry Cat Poems

These Poetry Cat poems are examples of Poetry poems about Cat. These are the best examples of Poetry Cat poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Light Poetry |
A little grey mouse snuck into the house to get himself out of the cold. Then the house cat Who saw where he sat pursued him I am told. The lazy old dog who sleeps like log was startled by the chase, So she woke up her own small pup and they joined in the race. My sister the baby decided that maybe she would give it a try, She started a spat And was scratched by the cat and then she started to cry. That’s when mom called to Uncle Tom to come and lend a hand, With a straw broom mom circled the room knocking plants from off a stand. In came my dad and he was quite mad because the house was in disarray He was vexed with what happened next But it happened just this way. Our two brave bowsers chased the mouse up dad’s trousers He thought he’d be safe in there. Until Dad started to dance with the mouse in his pants Then he jumped up on a kitchen chair. Mom smacked dad’s seat and then came a repeat And the mouse climbed out of his pocket. Unseen by all he started to crawl into the wall through an open socket. Later that night, With no one in sight, I put out a nut for the little mouse. I had no hate toward him, And I tried to reward him. Even if he was trapped inside our house. I told him my name, And he did the same, Then he stuffed the nut into his cheeks. He said thanks for the food, And I don’t mean to be rude, But that was the most fun that I’ve had in weeks.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry |
HEY DIDDLE, why the Cat and the fiddle
And the Cow that jumped over the moon? 
Why they're all here in Nursery Rhyme land
At the wedding of the Dish and the Spoon.
The Little Dog is happy,The Cat is playing a tune
And soon the Dish and the Spoon will go hand in hand
Off on their honeymoon.
The guests include OLD KING COLE
And HUMPTY DUMPTY who sat on a wall
Though he's being very careful today-
Doesn't want to spoil things by having a fall.
Has left her garden behind
And come along with LITTLE BO-PEEP
With all her sheep to mind.
SIMPLE SIMON has come with the Pieman
Because they're preparing the food.
And LITTLE JACK HORNER wont sit in the corner
Thinks it might be rather rude.
JACK SPRAT AND HIS WIFE have come for the feasting .
And OLD MOTHER HUBBARD hopes something left for the cupboard
And her poor dog who's at home with the flu.
WEE WILLIE WINKIE has changed out of his nightshirt
And dressed up in his sunday best,
But he'll have to leave early to check on the children
To make sure that they're all at rest.
LITTLE TOMMY TUCKER wont need to sing for his supper.
GEORGIE PORGIE said he wont make anyone cry.
And  JACK AND JILL have brought some lemonade in their bucket
In case some of the guests get dry.
DOCTOR FOSTER returned from Gloucester-
Says he hopes it doesn't rain
But he's brought his umbrella just in case
Doesn't want to get caught out again!
THE CROOKED MAN although he's bent double
Said he's determined to dance,
His partner is BETTY BLUE who lost her shoe
Then happened to find it by chance-
Well these are just some of the wedding guests
Travelled from far and wide
That have come along to celebrate with
The proud groom and his dish of a bride....
So now you know what's going on
With the Cat and the fiddle and the COW that jumped over the moon.
And why the Little Dog laughed to see such fun
All because the Dish fell in love with the SPOON.

Copyright © SYLVIA Coulstock | Year Posted 2010

Details | Tanka |
a fine but sad poet
her poems run deep
into love paradisial
or fraught with thorns

Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
She had one job, just one job.
No bugs in the house, ditto with mouse.
But there it goes across the floor,
eight legs scrambling towards the door.

The cat is snoring, obviously tired.
She had one job, so now she's fired.

Damn spider is hiding, who knows where.
Cat is sleeping, she don't care.
Spiders I hate with a passion.
Maybe her cat food I should ration.

Stupid spider, stupid cat.
I wonder if it went under the mat.

There 'll be no sleep tonight with it running free.
Good thing there's lots to watch on T.V.
She had one job, only the one,
now I'm warning that spider I've got a gun.

Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Coming in faster than speed racer
Heart colder than a glacier

Trying to duplicate the flavor
Another clout chaser
With or without a pace maker
And bracers
Soft as a wafer

Yet another copy cat
You're wrong for that
Going to one up you chumps, with or without a hockey mask

For ages I've been at the bottom, reaching for the top
More than a lot
Attempting to plot and stir up the pot
Whether the temperature cold or hot
Like it or not
They'll get caught
And put on the spot
Having to pay the cost
For such foolish talk

Regarding any parameters
Days and nights may or may have not been spectacular
I guess there's always been scavengers
And bandwagoners
As well as opposition and challengers
Whether or not their ambassadors
During any date on the calendar
It was either solved or obscure, by any medical examiner
Above and below any fields with or without lavender

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Light Poetry |
You might find this tid bit
A bit hard to believe
But I swear my cat sees thing 
That I ain't never seen

I'm thinking that it's spirits
Floating all around
You can most often tell
With her constant peculiar meows

She'll sit there and she'll stare
At one spot to no end
It seems to me it must be the dead
As sure as I now live

Or when she ups and jumps
Batting at nothing but thin air
I doubt that it's the micro dust
But rather the spirits floating there

I know that all cats automatically come
With a total of nine lives
Which leaves me to often wonder 
How many live on the other side

Yes, my cat sees ghosts
But you would never know
Cause she seems to see the strangest things
That no human eye could ever hope

Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
My little pussy cat ...... ( A poem for children) Mew, mew, here comes my little pussy cat She wants to play with me all the time Although, she is a naughty little pussy cat but I like her so much because she is a sweet cat She is brown in color and I named her brownie When I call her by name she answers with mew, mew When I am not at home, she loves to jump on my bed and to climb on my wardrobe When I am at home she pretend that she is an innocent little pussy cat. Often she annoys my dog and when he bites her then she makes huge cry and wants me to punish him When my supper time comes, she sits on my dining table and wait for her share to be given before I eat When she finishes her meal quickly and she looks at me for more When I shout at her and say that's enough for the day then she gets angry and says mew, mew and run away Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka All rights are reserved 2015

Copyright © Ravi Sathasivam | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |

One small fluffy ball with sky blue eyes
She seeks high and low - everything has a price

Chasing mouse quietly on four small feet
Curious and playful - trick or treat

Sneaking in the shade of bushes and flowers
Tired she lay on my lap and licking her pink nose

Impressed by her own efforts
She falls asleep, dreaming of divine small chocolate mouse



  - Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
  Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |
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. I chant…me’om…me’om…me’om; ‘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

Details | Hybronnet |

     Two kittens sleep
     aside as I write purring
     each in a moccasin 

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |

                                                   Outside my door
                                             late one autumn evening
                                           A small white wicker basket
                                       In the basket a soft pink blanket
                                       It hung a red heart on the handle
                                                with three little words
                                                    "Please love me"
                                             With curiosity and wonder
                                        I take the basket in from the cold
                                   From the the carpet two shiny blue eyes
                                         two small ears a little pink nose
                                               and a scruffy little head
                                            A tiny, tiny little baby kitten
                                             My heart melts it's so cute
                                                    I love you already
                                                 An Angel In Your Eyes


A-L  Andresen :)  
Copyright © All Rights Reserved         

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
"My word," said the cat,"you certainly do stink.
Methinks water's for bathing, not just to drink!"

"Retract those sharp claws," the dog stifled a yawn,
"I get plenty clean when I roll on the lawn."

"So much for you dogs having a great sense of smell,"
cat wrinkled his nose and whipped his long tail,
"now you just stink like the hinges of Hell."

"Get lost," snarled the dog, "with your sense of perfection,
"you only act sweet when you want some affection."

"At least they can kiss me," the old cat purred,
"without holding their noses since you smell like a turd."

"I am Man's Best Friend," the dog said with great pride,
"and I got that way by not being so snide."

"YOU'RE Man's best friend?" the cat said with a hoot,
"I feel sorry for Man, if that is the truth!"

"Don't make me get up," the old dog growled,
"I'll tear off your head," his eyes looking wild.

"I have speed for protection,"
he stretched with feline perfection,
"and as I go now, I fart
 in your general direction."

©Danielle White

Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |
The wrinkled gent woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. Staring into the 
darkness he saw nothing. Gloom and fear ganged up against his mind. Had he 
heard something? What was it? Something falling with a bang? What? 
He had heard things fall in the night such as glass picture frames—old strings giving 
way. The picture would crash to the floor, shattering the glass. He would recognize 
this. But he did not hear shattering glass. 
Was it a thief in the night? He lay listening, not daring to move. The night was dark, 
cloudy, gloomy—and scary! Desperately replaying the sound, he heard a bong in his 
mind’s ear.
A bong! That would have come from the old grandfather’s clock. Yes, it had to be his 
grandfather’s clock. He knew it. His stomach released its tension.
His eyes popped open again. How could it be the clock? The clock stopped running 
when his grandfather died – forty years ago, this very night!
Suddenly the clock started striking. Twelve strokes at midnight. With bolt-upright 
attention, he sat in self-detention, and pondered.
His grandfather was a strong man who lived to be ninety years old. Then the clock 
stopped to run no more. One of his kin wrote a song about it, and it was sung for 
	“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 . . .”
He would find out why the clock was striking. Slipped quietly to the room near the 
clock’s encasement, he saw the clock standing with its door open.
His eyes adjusted a little, and there in the floor he saw a dark object. What was it? 
He had left nothing there on which to stumble in the night. You learn a few things, 
he thought, in a long life like his. And you keep things picked up so you won’t fall 
over them.
Moving with stealth, he saw something hunched and furry, standing vigil with eyes 
reflecting light. His cat! Apparently, the cat had chased a mouse up the clock 
seeking safety. Its weight tripped the spring wound tightly, causing it to strike.
In his delusion the old gentleman grabbed his shotgun from the mantle. With the 
menace looming bigger, he quickly pulled the trigger. Now the old grandfather’s 
clock is no more. And the cat and mouse are a taxidermy chore.

Written for John Heck's "Choose your forte!" contest

Copyright © James Tate | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku |
Wanting salmon now
Soft paw pads caress my face
Melting I spoil her.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
Alley Cat, Alley cat

Alley cat, alley cat
Can you imagine that?
A black skunk crossed your path,
And that's a fact, is that a flash?
Of another smelly cat, smelly cat
Can you really imagine that?
That smelly cat fought the skunk
Now smelly cat looks like a punk,
The cat's fur is spiked up in the air
And can't get it down without nipping
Touched its fur his eyes bulged out
When he tasted the skunks snout
Now ain't that just pure dandy,
The Alley cat got punked by a
damn smelly skunk,
Make sure you call 911, call Mandy.

Written sometime in 2014

Copyright © Theresa CW | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Mazsi the cat was strolling one night, 
when came down the road, a most curious sight.
A yellow striped cat with a jazzy coat,  
big brimmed hat, bow tie ‘round his throat.

Mazsi had to smile at such a silly sight,
this striped yellow cat, thought he looked just right.
Twirling a gold  chain in his right paw,
stepping down the street, waving at kittens he saw.

He walked up to Mazsi and gave her a look, 
then all over his body he shook and shook.
“Well lookey here at what I see, 
if you’re not the prettiest kitty there be.”

Mazsi gave him a look and said to him,
“You’re the kookiest cat from shoe to brim.”
That jazzy cat was taken aback,
how could this kitty, him attack.

“Come now kitty, surely you can see,
I’m the coolest cat, there ever will be.
Come join me tonight and let down your hair,
you and I can be a shmizally pair.”

“With you by my side we can dancel all night,
you and me such a jazzical sight.
It’s down to the dance hall for a special affair,
all of the hipsters and swingers are there.”

Mazsi was curious and would like to party,
but this crazy cats’ brain, seemed a bit tardy. 
“I know you think you’re quite hip,
but on my radar you’re just a blip.” 

Cool Cat begged, “Come on, you kittiest of cats,
I dressed for the night, right down to my spats.
Take my paw and I’ll show you the town,
we’ll swing and dance till the moon goes down.”

Mazsi took his paw and right was he,
he showed her the most fun there ever could be.
Down at the Dance Hall a crowd had formed,
under the moonlight the night was transformed.

Cats of all colors were dancing to jazz,
laughing and singing with pizzazz.
Hubba hubba and root toot toot,
across the dance floor the two did scoot.

The moon sank low and music got slow,
everyone knew it was time to go.
Mazsi and Cool Cat had stolen the show,
won the trophy, Mazsi and her new beau.

Robert G Stoner Jr ©

Copyright © Robert Stoner Jr | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
There's a fresh new scratch 
on my leather chair.
It isn't the first, 
so why do I care.

I see there's a moth
flying 'round my head.
Since you scratched the chair,
that moth should be dead.

Bugs and insects,
that's your chore.
With what your food costs,
I should expect more.

When the kids were five
they picked up their toys,
went to bed on time 
and without any noise.

You, fuzzy face,
have toys everywhere
and all of the furniture's
covered with hair.

You sleep and sleep
'til its time for bed
then you want to play
or meow instead.

My kids say
you're the spoiled child
and it's my fault.
my discipline's grown mild.

I wonder sometimes
why I put up with you.
You are a rascal
through and through.

You run me ragged 
and that's for sure
and to get your way
you just start to purr.

Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
Stop the endless crying
Stop the dying of my wounded heart
No more chains on sorrows held
Shoot your arrow, kill me swift
My love lingers, on bloody wounds

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |
I’m scum, I know, I am an ass
I knew through cardboard you could pass

You chewed and chewed a great big hole,
I wish I knew you had a soul

You ran and laughed, but what you saw
It stomped you flat, it was a paw

That cat, he smirked and ate you raw
He stuffed you in his great big maw

My dear sweet babe, I won’t forget,
Your tiny life and what you met

The fault is mine, and I must pay,
Though when and how, I cannot say

The day will come, my life’s all done,
Until that time I’ll have no fun

Copyright © Susan McDermott | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

It was a chilly morning in paradise...

Autumn was already here...

A time for strange things to happen, as it is that time of year...

She was up most of the night, doing a write....

Regarding some hubs and her series titled "Legend of Fred "

Ahh the questions she had... rolling around in her head..

Were “where were her readers, her followers “ her Hubbers...?

They had all seemed to like what she wrote in the past..

But lately her hubs were falling so fast....

She had written articles on health and life..

perhaps she had targeted too much strife...

Maybe they wanted to read about food..

But when you're not a cook, that would be kinda rude..

Oh, will wonders never cease ?

So she decided she'd get some zzzzz's

She lay in her bed, not moving at all...

but breathing quite deeply, as I saw the covers fall...

So I stretched my muscles and walked ever so slow..

So as not to wake her , then I spied her big toe..

Sticking out from the blanket..it was such a temptation..

And with me having such a" foot fixation".. however...

She needed the rest , so she can finish her quest..

I have some thoughts of my own...

that I would like to share in a poem..

And I would be happy to help her.. but..

I don’t think the world is ready for me...

as I am a BLOGGING CAT.. you see

So I will close for now...everyone have a great week...as

I'm off to seek something that has a tweak and a squeak..

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
It was a cold winter’s night
The logs in the fire burning bright
The stars shone brightly
Soft snow flakes tumbling to the ground
A peaceful evening, all in all
As I skinned the Cat
For a lovely winters’ stew
In the oven he baked
Whilst I peeled the potatoes
Pondering what wine goes well with cat
I settled on a nice merlot, tangy sweet
Savoring dinner, oh what a treat
The oven bell rung! Dinner was done
Shocked I was, I woke up with a start
My cat stared at me with curious eyes
The he turned into a Tiger
And its HE who ATE me!!!!!!!!!!

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Late night I come
Dog greets and barks
He chases, I run

Next night I come
Ready with sticks
I chase, he runs

Days go Nights come
Dog plays cat and mouse
I chase or run

Then came the Night I dread
The Dog descends the stairs
Unaware I climb the stairs

We greet face to face
Scared to death
I run down

The Dog darts above

Copyright © Suresh Iyer | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry |
Cats are containers of colorful personality. A blue cat sits alone looking at the floor before him. His mind blank as, a new sketchbook; waiting for the artist within to, paint him into a clown. Red cats rage against life’s storms and invaders in their yard. Birds, squirrels and mice fear the wrath of a red cat; sharp teeth and claws are swift when, propelled by a red paw. Yellow cats have a tendency to leave surprise gastric gifts on your carpet, as much as possible; always apologizing with their pale, jaundiced eyes. The green cat personality is rare. You’ll find them holding it all in until they get to that litter box. Green behavior warrants a private box, along with a nice treat. Green cats, can’t stand a stench and will scratch litter for hours to slay a screaming smell. The purple cats see every opportunity for affection and milk it. Love emanates from their bones and cuddling is what they do best. When purple cats offer a hug, you cannot resist. Beware the polka-dotted cat! A love bite will quickly become piercing claws; shredding an arm in seconds. Pink cats are Coveted cats. Children love pink cats and carry them everywhere. Their serene and constant purring sings you to sleep, ever so gently. A pink cats love is never-ending. The rainbow personality, is the comedian of all cats. Light to dark and red to yellow; the court jester of the species. these side-splitting, laugh factories, will never allow you to be bored. Keep a camera handy; rainbow cats are usually, fabulous video celebrities

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lanterne |
A leopard, silent paws do not betray him.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |
A mouse doesn't ask for mercy from a cat. It can't meow the syllables.
Though its stomach is full, the cat, being unacqainted with mercy, will toy with a mouse. 
Does the tiny heart that beats to bursting point, feel eternity?.... while pinned to the floor by that mighty paw! Any soldier could tell you.

Suzanne Delaney

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
On a cold, cold night with a touch of snow, a cat wished quietly and sadly for a home.
For a year he’d found nowhere with love to call home. Yes, he’d been, so very, very alone.
He lived under a deserted car now, where his family had lived long ago, for a while.
They were now gone to a new home, and he feared, he couldn’t carry on without them, my dear.
So before going to bed he wished on a star, which appeared ever so brightly above, from far. 
All he wanted from anyone was some food, and to sleep next to a warm, warm fire, too.
As he fell asleep he also wished for a hand to touch his fur, gently and kindly, again.
Then he awoke to a sound he’d heard once before, as Christmas bells had tolled, long ago… He was sure.
That night an old man in red had come from out of nowhere, to take his family a new home, so fair.
Scared by the sleigh and the reindeer he drove, the cat had run away, that I know to be true. 
But not any more would he run away, his legs would no longer take him very far, any way.
He grabbed all his courage and around he snuck, until hiding under a bush nicely tucked.
There before him was a jolly old man with his reindeer and sleigh lined up, yes, again.
The man was dressed in warm, warm clothes, and stopped to lay down a beautiful bowl.
The man then turned away to do business forthright, inside the neighboring house that night.
I swear on my heart that this is ever so true, as the cat crept closer giving curiosity it’s due.
Coming closer he could sense the most wonderful smell, calling him forward, as if under a spell.
The bowl was filled with warm, warm cream, which he licked up fast as if caught in a dream.
Moments later the man came from that house, with a smile and a wink for that dear old cat.
The man in red picked up the bowl with a quiet demand, urging him gently to stroll to his hand.
Now was the dilemma to run, or to stay, but it was the large shining star that decided it all that day.
As he stood before that great big man in red, the star beckoned brightly from behind the man’s head.
The cats’ fears left as the man stayed with a smile and a grin, and a Ho Ho Ho that day, my friend.
He realized here was the home he’d wanted for so long, and had dreamt in his head, where he could belong.
Some how, he knew he’d be safe in that beautiful sled, and warm in that coat the color of red.
He came forward to lick and nuzzle the man, as yes; he was picked up gently, in his hand.
The jolly old man put him snug in his coat, as a red nosed reindeer winked from the front, I must note.
Then the man climbed in and sent forward the sleigh, as the cat curled up to sleep, the rest of the way.

Miracles can happen each day, at the hand of others who are wise and kind, I say.
This jolly old man was right in this deed, and ever so wise to stop and kind to care, you see…
So I’ll let you in on a little secret I know… 
They lived happily ever after, at the North Pole.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
Twas the night before Christmas, I say, in my gentle refrain.
Dear Santa had been busy, traveling the night, so very long.
He left us for last, as we were always gave him, a lot of pain.
No matter our good intentions, something always went wrong.

We surprised him with Carols, and he jumped back into the fire.
With so much magic, you’d think his clothes, wouldn’t singe so?
As our Great Dane jumped up, to kiss him, I thought he’d expire!
They fell into the tree, now entwined on the floor, so cute, all-aglow!

But the cat was a little pissed as he came out of the tree, you see…
And he attacked Santa for disturbing, his comfy good dreams.
I pulled the cat off, and falling on top, he accidentally got kneed.
Asking forgiveness, I offered a cookie, and he suddenly screamed.

The Great Dane had grabbed the cookie, while it was IN his hand!
Thank goodness, he’s a great, wonderful, and forgiving old man!
Last year, he’d ask the tree, be near his escape, a great game plan.
But he now got entangled in the big, hanging stockings, as out he ran.

He was choking, bright red, a good color on him, as we cut him free.
But he was dizzy and fell into the hot chocolate, and it’s warming pan.
So he jumped up and down, waving his arm, as he again, tried to flee.
Leaving, I heard him exclaim, ‘My day job is easier, I’m a stunt man!’ 

Still, next year he’ll be back, he says we’re nice, you see…
We just all understand, he’ll also be in a hurry to… leave.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
The Cat in the Hat went walking through the woods, Thing 1 and Thing 2 were up to no good. They were teasing Miss Muffet as she was sitting there, the spider scared her so bad she lost all, but one strand of hair. "Be good there What do you think you do? eave her alone Thing 1 and Thing 2." The Old Lady in the Shoe was hanging out clothes, Thing 1 and Thing 2 ran up and started striking a pose. Thing 1 and Thing 2 were dancing around, these two were the most annoying people on this side of town. The Old Lady had a baseball bat, started giving chase to Thing 1, Thing 2 and The Cat in the Hat. Copyright © Cynthia Jones Oct.19/2004 To Be Continued....

Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |

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 | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

A cat, unshy,
Will wander by
Eyeing with curiosity
The abject, bending,
Object it perceives as me.
I bow and scrape
From knee to nape
Hoping to gain its amity,
But though I try
To win it, I
Know it still thinks 
The worst of me.

Copyright © Mary Grace Dembeck | Year Posted 2015