Best Cat Poems
Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?
Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace
More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry
Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage
Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience
Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing
In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby
She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II
Annie received little compensation
This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty
To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home
With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse
Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty
An ebon sky, darkness to light
Diamond stars, mosaic night
Bright lunar sphere of brilliant white
Floodlights a scene of will and might.
The Fiddler’s Cat, sips warm Bordeaux
Fiddle to chin, strong paw to bow
Rosin to bow on amber ice
Wide upward swing, long downward slice.
A rotund dish, the restless spoon
Race through the night below the moon.
Ah, Fiddler’s cat empties Bordeaux
Strikes violin strings, with Dante’s bow
He plays of sorrow, he plays for chance
As spirits soar, he plays to dance.
He plays of peace, he plays for hope
To love and trust, he plays the most.
Fading ebon screen, pale ginger sky
An exhausted shrug, a weary sigh.
A new ordinance decreed by spoon and dish
Keep catnip away when serving fish.
"Grief is the price we pay for love "
Quote - Queen Elizabeth
Don't cry mommy ... I know its hard to say goodbye,
the end has come for me, we knew it would someday;
you always said I was a good cat for these twelve years,
I wanted only your nice pat, your lap and a snack !
I recall our first meeting ... I was cold and scared,
rejected by the world, shivering on your covered porch;
but you did not chase me away ... you brought me food,
at first I hissed a lot, so you named me Grumpy cat !
Eventually, we shared unconditional love each moment,
you cannot save me mommy, I suffer from old age;
the vet told you that I was of years when you found me,
and more years have passed, and they were wonderful !
Imagine me in a beautiful garden lush and green,
sunshine streams through the trees giving some shade;
bird songs fill the air and a breeze is caressing my fur,
this is my Heaven- do you know God hugged me today !
I heard your whisper, "till heaven unites us again Grumpy cat,"
and felt your kisses and your tears falling on my fur;
mommy, imagine me rolling in the cool grass to take a nap,
running and jumping, not old and sick ... like a kitten again !
Thank you mommy for saving me from a life on the street,
and giving me a wonderful life (remember my first bath);
you thought I was black but I became a tabby cat,
I loved you so much and will be waiting at rainbow bridge !
As I draw my last breath I am surround with your love.
___________________
June 03, 2022
Poetry/Personification/Grumpy Goes To Heaven
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1461-418-03
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Poem of the Day, June 4, 2022
It’s always a good practice when living on a farm,
To have a family of cats living in the barn
They always keep the rats and mice at bay and furnish humor too –
Wherever you find kittens there’s usually a laugh or two.
Now, I remember one time, I was out there milking cows,
When I noticed three young kittens, out and on the prowl.
One, a fine young tomcat, was really acting brave
And I wondered if he faced some fear just how he would behave.
Skillfully I squeezed and threw some milk across his face –
He winced a bit, then licked his lips – he knew he’d found the place.
We played around awhile and soon the playing stalled
When he stopped and took a minute to answer nature’s call.
He didn’t know it but he backed himself up to a fresh cow pad
He grunted; then had the best little poop a kitten ever had.
He turned around to cover it; then began the fun.
He knew what he saw lying there was more than he had done.
He arched his back, let out a scream and broke into a run.
I thought, at first, it might have been something I had done.
But soon it was no mystery what scared that little cat.
There was the giant pile of poop I couldn’t help laughing at.
This kitten was the alpha kitten of the litter
Who ultimately proved to me that he was no quitter.
So, when the time came to find him a name…
Well ….. I just called him……”Fraidy”
Written By John Posey
05/29/13
In my life, I’ve had about five . . . . . . . . . . . DOGS
What naughty chewing little beasts they . . . ARE
Nonetheless, I still think they are . . . . . . . . .COOL;
However, I’ve had twice as many . . . . . . . .. CATS
Independent, sweet and clean they usually . . ARE
For that, I find cats to be just a tad bit. . . . COOLER
Written Aug. 2015 for the "End Line Word" Poetry contest of HGarvey Daniel Esquire
The cat rules our house, and she has us well trained:
We jump at the sound of her slightest complaint.
The day starts at six when I hear her loud cry,
Her pitiful wailing. I run to find why.
Queen passive-aggressive, she sits there and stares
Until I feel guilty. She silently glares.
I check on her food – only half full the dish!
I pour her fresh water. That wasn’t her wish;
She still has that look! In the bathroom I check:
The litter box maybe? Yes, there is a speck.
I scoop and I clean, and she, pleased, walks away—
She just wants it nice to use later today.
She squeezes right next to me onto my chair,
My pants and my sweater get covered in hair.
But she is so sweet and has such a soft fur,
And I like to stroke her, and hear her cute purr.
She made me become what I swore not to be:
The crazy cat lady- I think that is me.
January 3, 2018
For contest Crazy Cat Lady
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
pitter patter paws
a cozy warm place to sleep
purring up a storm
My parents said I could not keep the black, stray cat.
They explained our canary would not survive that.
Parents out, a sitter, and my four-year-old mind
Let the cat in and hoped for the best in due time.
I am ashamed to have plotted murder when four,
Sad an innocent bird died cause I liked cats more.
The whole family loved that sweet cat, “Little Bit”,
Plus, I promise, I never planned another death hit.
My cat sat on the window seat
Tail thumping with a rhythmic beat
Like a lioness stalking meat
A bird to eat A bird to eat
Oh, no you don't, my sweet kitty
That raven is much too gritty
You'd be hurt. Oh, what a pity!
You're too pretty You're too pretty
I'll give you a treat, if you wish
With the flavor of tuna fish
I'm certain you'll find it delish
It's in your dish It's in your dish
She ran, making her 'meow' sound
Straight for the kitchen, she was bound
With lightning speed of a greyhound
Her cat food downed Her cat food downed
I found her later, sound asleep
In peaceful dreams, she slept so deep
or she'd have heard the fledgling's "peep"
Of a bird's cheep Of a bird's cheep
August 8, 2022
Simile Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Hilo Poet
Monotetra Form
Early Morn On The Old Farm
tomcat cat fast asleep
new house painted darkest of greens
old sun drenched, low-weeping willow
young black dog awakens
eager dawn, stretches its new legs
(1.) (living scene), no rhyme
Robert J. Lindley, 3-17-2000
New Poetry form, Lind68868
(1.) (living scene), no rhyme
***********************
New poetry form Lind68868
New poetry form: Must describe either 1. a living scene (one that is poetically possible to see), 2. a comparative thought, 3. or a dream.
Poem must list which of the three- this example is number 1.
Poem must have a Title
Syllable count must be 6,8,8,6,8
Must be 5 lines of verse.
May be rhymed or written with no rhyme
Note:
Yesterday, I found 6 of these poems in this new poetry form I created, written on a single page in one of my old poetry journals.
The mean old housecat has bulgy eyes
when she looks at us in our fish bowl
Oh, how much we've come to despise
that big mouth of hers, the black hole
Poised to pounce with sharpened claws
She's taking jabs with hatred brimming
that ugly feline beast with drooling jaws
for us little fishes, innocently swimming
Our little bowl is cosy, room for only two
bad kitty on the outside, always looking in
If her paw ever grabs us, what are we to do
we’d be much safer in a smelly sardine tin!
If she ever catches us, we’ve got big troubles
perhaps in her dreams she sees us as fat trout
In fear we produced a stream of gassy bubbles
If only our owner would give bad kitty a clout!
All the chaos made us soil ourselves with poop
so we let that mean old cat feast on a tasty treat
When her nasty tongue slurped intestinal goop
the beast screeched in horror! Revenge is sweet!
Our owner came home and cleaned out the bowl
Soon we returned to our safe sweet smelling home
Kitty got banned but can see us through the keyhole
Now we don’t suffer from irritable bowl syndrome!
Ethan lies upon my lap
in sweet and tender slumber.
This happens all throughout the day,
who can count the number?
I think he's shrewd and his time well used,
more clever than a fox.
Though doubt creeps in, he looks less keen
sitting in a box.
Eating spiders and swatting flies
to his heart's content.
But chasing birds and trapping mice
are the main event.
When by the door he makes his roar
yearning to be free.
But moments later the clamor starts
as he's stuck upside a tree.
There might be string or a piece of thread,
any length of twine.
He goes fuzzball crazy and his eyes get large
now impossible to confine.
To calm him down I know a trick
to alter Ethan's mood.
I go to the kitchen, open up the fridge
and show him there's more food.
Then there's Christmas where he finds our stuff,
a special time of year.
He's shredding presents and chasing lights,
with tinsel hanging from his rear.
I scratch his belly and brush his hair
at times of his own choosing.
With little deference I know for sure
his fealty I am loosing.
There are times when things go well,
I find myself with pride.
But people say... cats are Nature's way
to take the other side.
He lets me know I might lack merit
so he's not afraid to tell.
The thoughts I treasure and my Human worth,
he's eager to dispel.
There are moments when I adore that cat
when he's giving me a break.
His eyes show love as I melt within
even when it's fake.
There are four scratching posts and toys aplenty
that fill up every space.
But no matter what the mortgage says...
I'm living in his place.
The End
*For those who might be interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.
The lady sleeps
Her cat is sleeping
Both in deep slumber
In the early morn
She feels a nudge
Eyes open- her cat
stares at her
Then chirps softly
The lady speaks to her cat
" It's too early to eat"
Time passes then again
The cat nudges her
To wake up from sleep
She looks at the clock
It is two in the morn
She rolls over dreams
Only to awake
At six in the morn
Now she feels tired
From lack of sleep
I was only four,
when Blackie my dog died.
My dad ran my best friend over,
yes it was a horrible accident.
I was only seven,
when my loving cat died.
I found her dead from eating a lizard,
the lizard was coming out of her mouth.
I was in my twenties,
when I got the call.
Your dad is dying,
will I make it in time.
My heart has been broken many times,
feeling like pieces of glass cutting it apart.
Each time my heart was undone,
it could not be made new again.
An undone heart will last forever,
never to be fixed again.
Hold your heart in love,
protect it at all cost.
So this, my cat, my confidante, my friend
His bed, empty now, I cannot discard
A photograph now on the mantel’s end
Beside his toy and a sympathy card
How long the wait, in this vast empty space
Till small sounds spare me the notion he’s back
Yet still shall I ready this special place
For friend and casket and polished brass plaque
You say he’s only a cat and he's dead
Still I make space midst old friends on this shelf
What notions strange and cold dwell in your head
When you have no love but that for yourself
Make light of my grieving if that you must
My cat I loved: As for you… not too fussed!