Best Cats Poems
Last year, her imagination went double
so she ignored her previous schedule.
She put all her dreams inside of clear jars,
decorated with different, assorted stars.
She believed if she always kept things rounded
she would also succeed in keeping life grounded,
So, she would circle every found square
believing it demonstrated her constant care.
Plastic, colored eggs hung from her ceiling
to keep her floor from creaking and reeling.
Pale pink and bold gold stripes on her wall
recorded every received telephone call.
She worshiped and loved both the sun and moon,
but only from inside her living room.
She feared really being observed outside,
a place where stray cats were known to hide.
She always loved to dance, but during this year
she’s been dancing to music only she can hear.
All these things bring her secure nuances near,
but make her sanity less and less clear.
on... Oh! Oh!
What? What?
Do you think of cats?
We have too many cats.
At least, they feast on rats.
Cats. (*) Cats! Cats! (*) Cats.
What do you think of that? I
have seen them with a mole.
Dead, pulled out of his hole.
A delicacy I once was told.
My cats are: Meow.
Some big fat- Meow!
Rat-eating cats. Meow!
I never see them eat a bat.
I guess at night, they sleep or chat.
Cats do not have wings. They cannot fly!
My, oh my, will they wish someday to fly?
At early dawn it is time to prowl. Not for owls.
Meow! They hunt for snakes, insects, some fowl.
Silently, sneakily, stealthy, spying, they P-o-u-n-c-e-!
It’s survival of the fittest, kitty cat style. Buy a bell.
You may see them on the ground or in a tree looking
down. Meow! Sometimes they will play in the sand.
Rolling, flipping around on every inch of ground.
Or you might find them upside down flexing,
Anticipating their morning prowl. Meow.
By and by, success is found.
In their kitty bowl... Meow.
Smiles! Meow, Meow, Smiles!
Copyrighted on January 27, 2010
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
These are two etherees that will be put together side by side to form ONE complete poem having 11 syllables per line, so I thought i would show how it is done. It's like fitting two puzzle pieces together to form the poem for the contest at the bottom!
(Etheree #1)
Two
cats now
occupy
a space that is
my home, their kingdom,
with beds to hide beneath,
and with closets, stairs and chairs
small pets like to explore and where
comfy, side by side, they doze. Two cats,
now a part of me, show me daily. . . love
(etheree #2)
Cute new friends, no longer foes, but sister
companions, share common spaces and
a place even more important:
the heart I give, along with
the place they frolic in,
with sofas they climb
and desktops where
they perch. Here
my joy
lives.
(I have put the lines of the top etheree in parentheses so you can see how neatly they fit together with the reverse etheree #2)
A Home with Two Cats
(Two) cute new friends, no longer foes, but sister
(cats now) companions, share common spaces and
(occupy) a place even more important:
(a space that is) the heart I give, along with
(my home, their kingdom), the place they frolic in,
(with beds to hide beneath), with sofas they climb
(and with closets, stairs and chairs) and desktops where
(small pets like to explore and where) they perch. Here
(comfy, side by side, they doze. Two cats,) my joy
(now a part of me, show me daily. . . love) lives.
Hope I explained it so it was understood how I did it!!
For the Pet Contest of Francine Roberts
Ride of the Scarecrow Clan
(To: Mittens)
She was born in the corn on a cold misty morn,
the most beautiful cat on the farm.
(I must keep her from coming to harm!)
The most beautiful kitty inspired this ditty
with whiskers that whisper her charm,
wild white whiskers that whisper her charm.
But the angels grew jealous, much too overzealous,
they schemed up a dastardly plan,
that they stole from a medicine man.
They would use and abuse all their magic, so tragic,
to conjure the Scarecrow Clan,
for their devilish dastardly plan.
The Clan owed them a favor for past misbehavior,
behavior so foul and so cruel,
they would ride when moon became full!
When the moon elevated they rose animated
to drown Mitten’s in the cesspool.
As they hunted they started to drool.
Hunting high, hunting low, riding ‘round to and fro,
the Clan frantically searched helter-skelter,
for young Mittens who found a safe shelter.
As they howled and they growled all the air became fouled,
but they couldn’t find Mittens’ safe shelter.
“When we find her, in acid we’ll melt her!”
Could these four scarecrows stoop to even new lows
as they hunt by light of the moon?
(Better hurry the dawn will come soon!)
Long they hunted and haunted but she was undaunted,
she laughed at the bumbling buffoons,
while she purred out some kitty cat tunes.
Curled with grace in a space near the warm fireplace,
for the Scarecrow Clan fears the fire.
(Just the thought of it makes them perspire.)
Low they lurched as they searched in the fields near the church,
growing desperate, dejected, and dire,
for the sunlight will make them expire.
Then dawn broke Night's dark cloak with a big puff of smoke
as the angels’ black magic was shattered,
and the Scarecrow Clan riders battered.
Under natural law the Clan turned back to straw,
and their straw o’er the cornfield was scattered.
She'll be safe now and that’s all that mattered.
13-March-2020 (Friday the 13th). First Place in "A Rattling Rhyme" poetry contest sponsored by Nina Parmenter
Dearest Irene
Queen of Cats
Your dear Panagiota
Will soon be back
Wait patiently Irene
And before too long
You'll hear her voice
Singing you a song
And she'll be dressed
In her feather boa
With a spring in her step
Looking just as you know her
As you run to meet her
You can't wait to greet her
She's the one you adore
Walking through the door
As you snuggle up
together ~
forevermore...
Written 9th November 2021 ~ for dear Irene QUEEN OF CATS ^~^
Panagiota's beloved cat ~ may they be reunited soon...
POEM OF THE DAY 10.11.21
Contest A STRAND (1069)
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
Cats all around
Playing with the yarn
So cute and pink
A house full of cats
Poor ventilation
Doctor says I have hair balls
How mysterious
Our Tab has far -away eyes
UGHH! It's flatulence
One cat likes to talk
It's the inflection that counts
Feed me, please....................? FEED ME!!!
(meeeww) (MEEOOOWWW!)
Not bothered with mice
Nary a bug in the house
The new 'shredded' style
Fell in the eggnog
Hick hickory....up he run
Dick dickory DOCK! tick tock
(to Mittens)
Schrödinger’s Cat is where it’s at,
nor live, nor dead, nor purring.
With half a chance she’ll live to prance
the worst may be occurring.
There must be something I can do
that Nature says is not taboo
to rescue this poor Russian Blue.
But if I’d look I’d lock her fate.
Dare I disturb her quantum state
when spooky action at-a-distance
could conclude poor cat’s existence?
Somehow unseen I need to see
behind that curious curtain,
where “God plays dice” with cats and mice,
where Heisenberg was uncertain.
Where large meets small, and cause effect,
where fact finds science fiction …
It boggles my small intellect,
each way I think of to protect
her has some contradiction.
Where simple seeming Maxwell’s Demon,
if programmed to assist …
To no avail, he’s doomed to fail,
he clearly can’t exist.
Where mighty minds have failed before,
what chance have I to best Niels Bohr?
Poor Einstein nearly fried his noggin
when he tried at Copenhagen.
Then, at the Solvay Congress, rambling,
suffered his cerebrum’s scrambling.
Each clever loophole that he “found”
failed, for Bohr shot each one down.
Where the world’s four known forces and all its best minds,
couldn’t save kitty lest they Unified.
So, he tried and he tried, and he tried and he tried,
still, we weren’t Unified on the day Einstein died.
Then followed footsteps, Steven Hawking.
Though he didn’t do much walking,
wowed us with his brilliant squawking:
“Black holes have “hair?!”
Could information
in pairs of virtual creation,
entangled but with separation
by a great wall of gravitation
as “hairs” of “Hawking Radiation,”
repair in Grand Unification
to spare this long-hair’s ruination?
Might yet unwritten cosmic laws
apply behind those blurry walls
to spare her furry feline paws?
I can’t remember if I cried
when I read that Steven Hawking died.
Such sadness touched me deep inside,
still, we were not Unified.
So, confidence I can’t exude.
The only thing I can conclude:
Alas, I lack ability
to tinker probability.
But I will give you even odds that all our odds are even.
This odd result results because we’ve mixed our rhymes with reason.
So be it odd to play at God … by God there’s a solution!
I have free will and will by God will out her execution.
So, by stroke of this pen I do decree:
This story ends here. Happily!
Cats don't like going to the vet,
In fact, they can get quite upset.
Somehow they just know,
When the crate makes a show,
They instantly begin to fret.
First they'll hide under the bed.
Getting them out fills us with dread.
They'll scratch and they'll bite,
And put up a fight.
Wish we could tranquilize them instead.
In the car they'll meow and cry,
Sounding like their going to die.
In the office they'll balk,
And no treat or sweet talk,
Will make them willing to comply.
Of course the vet knows what to do,
And after an exam and a shot, too,
They'll run into their crate.
Going home is so great,
We can't help but shout Yahoo!
7/31/21
the rain fell
outside
dogs and cats
Sunday
was late in coming
rolled over in bed
played dead
until a red
long haired cat
named Fred
sat
on my head
and my face
turned red
then a stray
mangy yellow dog
named Yellow
decided to play
with me
chased Fred away
and decided to stay
his body heat
was hot
and I rolled over in bed
until a cool fat black cat
named Frank
chased Yellow
outside to the riverbank
Frank the cool fat black cat
started to scat
at the top of his range
at the edge of my bed
his blues
went straight
to my head
then Yellow and Fred
returned
with guitar and bass
and played backup
to Frank
while I played the bed
to save face
it was all
going swell
until my neighbors
who didn’t like our chops
banged a different tune
on the wall
and called the cops
they broke down
the door
and took away us four
along with our instruments
less the bed of course
into a paddy wagon
we sped
it was in a cell
with a cot
that we realized that we were hot
to trot
and started our prison band called
not
me two cats and a mangy dog
*** THE CATS DREAM ***
The cats snuggling dream
Of turning through the music between stars…
Of their fur transformed to feathers…
Of a time past when
Brought to ballet class
They danced for the great George Balanchine —
As living models
Jumping high, high to
The peaking of their
Seeming so easily springing leaps…
To tap noses to his fingers
Then hang as if landed there… In
A pause overhead of any descent…
A stay of all motion
— even of time —
Where
Felines go
To dream
And dance
———————————————————————————————————-
(c) Art & Poem sally young eslinger 5/14/22
Thanks be to God
like twins they indeed do become
warm, sleepy, peaceful bodkins
in God's universe, love and the sun
8/3/2019
8pm PST
IRENE ^~^ zzzzzzz...
Now my friend has a pussy called Irene
She is regal
She writes poetry
She is known as the Queen
Each day she eats salmon from a golden tureen
But one day last spring
A fat rat wandered in
Falling asleep on her golden tureen
And to her surprise whilst eating rat thighs
Irene found them deliciously lean
low fat ~ if you know what I mean...
No more salmon or caviar she's addicted to rat
But not Ratatouille for that is too chewy
Irene now eats a dish known as Rat-a-tat-tat
slowly cooked by my friend in a purple chef's hat...
12th February 2020
Ode to Irene ^~^ a most unusual cat...
Contest Strand Select N
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Three cats did share the same house.
Two sweet but one was a grouse.
Two got along great but the third t'was love/hate.
But there isn't a mouse in the house.