Best Caterwauling Poems
“What a caterwauling do you keep here !”
Sir Andrew and Sir Toby – too much beer !
Listen. Is that a cat–er-wauling,
A piercing feline screech, a bawling ?
All our neighbourhood cats are calling !
Loud yowling in the pale moonlight,
Enough to give a banshee fright !
Why's “choir practice” late at night ?
Approach the window. Looking out
I see no sign of cats about.
Was it a dream ? Begin to doubt.
Our choristers have ceased their din
And now our moggy's come back in –
Was that you wailing, where've you been ?
A couple nights ago
(today being August 4th, 2021)
while walking around the parking lot after dark
over yonder shrieking catcall heard - hark
at first methought, a baby experienced distress,
I immediately scratched that notion
far fetched as sound out the beak of bewailing lark
but Highland Manor apartments
generally quiet as cemetery park.
Truth be told yours truly an overgrown fraidy cat
who naturally sought to turn sharp
on his heels and beat path
for domicile entrance within seconds flat.
Hypothesization generated imagination
to conjure fate worse than death
predicated after huffing and puffing
(pertaining to above mentioned activity)
gasping for my last breath
praying to dog to escape
versus being figurative cooked goose
cowardliness quickly dismissed lame excuse
to avoid become laughingstock
with addled pate stuck within noose.
Maybe ferocious feral rabid animal on the loose
oh if only seen courtesy Doctor Seuss
what with me with hair raised straight up
and/or the wild beast
charging faster than lightning greased
impossible mission to call a truce
where creature waggled her/his tail
analogous to derailed caboose
prompting joker within me
to splutter what the deuce,
not wanting to discover vis a vis
common denominator most least
cuz mortal kombat witnessed bloody bloke
pronouncing one lapsed (Aloe there)
spidery legged wandering Jew deceased.
Forsooth
aforementioned scenario fabrication of truth
insipid since contents (reasonably rhyming materiel)
devoid remotely labeled uncouth
fiction employed to entice reading poem
tastefully accomplished akin to wine
knowingly spiked with brandy
infused with herbs and spices
such sweetened drink constitutes
one of two varieties regarding
never drinking teetotaler vermouth;
red (sweet), which originally
hails from Italy, and white (dry)
which first appeared in France.
A breathy caterwauling doesn’t evoke feelings glowing hardily
Impacting justification. Kindness leaves meaningful nuances
off-putting quiet responses,
surging toward unified victorious wins
‘xasperating your zaniest assemblies.
She throws herself at the feet
of the unimpressed—
rolling, rubbing and yowling,
an opera of yearning
for the neutered elite.
They blink, stretch, then saunter off
for another nap
on the sun-pooled sill,
leaving her to flirt
with the legs of chairs.
Bewildered by the bopped nose,
the rebuffed overtures—
arching and warbling,
tail high with invitation—
she meets only
indifference or disdain.
Again she circles,
unsure if maybe
she’s doing it wrong.
Mid-kitchen now,
she flops down wailing
betrayal in the key of estrus,
as if to say:
Was it something I purred?
I caterwauled with the best of them.
I caterwauled with the worst.
I put myself in a side pocket
And I walked beside my purse
My moans had seen some better days
My woes had seen some worse.
The caterwauls you hear today
Are coming from my purse
I have almost never heard such a racket as this
The snakes slunk off down the alley with barely a hiss
The rats ran away, the instant the cacophony began.
“God preserve my ears!” yelled an early milkman.
Yes it was the cat band, with horrible screeching and all.
We heard it often in the wee hours that no longer tranquil fall.
Who sold them instruments? I asked the guy next door.
He turned and pointed to the silent music store.
Of course this place did not open until ten.
These caterwauling fools would be asleep by then.
I ran into my house and put some bright red earplugs in.
Tried to sleep but could not do it thanks to their awful din.