Best Cougars Poems
Some men might prefer kitty cats
oh so pretty, but they might be brats!
The mature feline, though,
is the one in the “know”
and is better at dealing with rats!
To the Cougar’s “prey“, I say fear not!
It can be a good thing to get caught.
Ashton Kutcher’s not blind.
Maybe you too can find
a cougar both wealthy and hot!
By Andrea Dietrich
Inspired by Dr. Ram Mehta's Contest:
"Cougar Effect"
Lincoln never imagined
today’s white victim zeitgeist,
pouting persecuted supremacists,
their clenched jaws and fists.
Civil war rages in limbic memory.
Encoded somewhere,
the panic attacks and mirages.
Nobody is qualified because everybody is responsible.
So many whites have graduated from the struggle,
showcasing their diploma from the mill.
Lincoln never imagined
modern virtual vitriol,
merciless memes lashing out at specters,
infusing, inciting depravity among the sleep deprived.
These words are battleships aimed at the reviled.
The unshielded summon civility.
They beckon familiar principles.
But rabid cougars wait in hiding, eager to pounce.
All the feeble markets for platitudes have failed,
as subliminal cavities endure each generation.
Mental lynch mobs, rebel flags, supremacy’s utopia.
Lincoln never imagined
a 21st century cartoon president,
a white nationalist clicking social network epithets,
a whining overgrown tormenter
with a cult of Stalinist believers.
Where are the intelligible?
How is all this animated fury converted?
What is the lesson plan?
Who will bury the code?
How long this agonizing journey into normality?
Lincoln never imagined.
Published Tuck Magazine 04/ 2019
The everyday project is to continue the extreme task of survival
waking up every morning to the bad reality that it may be the last
holding unto this hint, the greatest wisdom to acquire.
Community of birds and a den of serpents confined in one farm;
Cougars, deadly and voracious to the assembly of cayotes;
Cayotes hunting the raccoons and in turn the eels in same habitat.
This cruel side of nature has been instinctively adopted by humans
where virtues and feelings develop cannibalistic canines.
Evil then grows obese in the mind but yet not satisfied
bully and intimidation, openly infused into the town’s planning
for different illegal lords to gallivant with their cabinets,
when those at the top stop giving lawlessness a dime
and close the run way through which impunity cat-walks,
then orderliness will be restored for humanity to have a bath.
All aboard the zoo train, let's ride there
Be amazed when you see the mighty bear
Cougars, big cats, crouch inside their lair
Desert tortoises creep, they move so slow
Eagles perch and stare from branches, low
Foxes peer out from within their dens
Great giraffes gawk, their necks extend
Hyenas laugh as they run and play
Iguanas lie and bask in the sun all day
Jaguar is regal, as she paces in her stall
Kangaroos nibble on leaves near a wall
Lions pace, the kings of the jungle
Meerkats hide in small holes and tunnels
Now we can view those amusing apes
Orangutans with their funny faces
Past the fountain, we see the polar bear
Quite a sight, as he swims over there
'Round the bend, we enter reptile land
Snakes that slither over rocks and sand
Tribal music sets the stage to see
Up high, as we look into the banyon trees
Vociferous squawks from bright toucans
Wild echos reverberate over the land
Xanadu dreams, on this enchanting day
You feel you've traveled miles away
Zoo magic memories were made today.
Updated on 5/18/2022
Written on 7/11/2015
Cattiness, it doesn't work
nor do cherry cheese cake or
romantic northern lights,
fairies, unfortunality
anniversaries and the like.
Make it better for me baby
Lioness has surface value
silky sultry claws of steel
sharp and growlingly
howlingly purring
over a tasty meal.
Baby make me it for better
Cougars come and cougars go
with rippling roaring shoulders
unaware
they just don't care
life's a stage, let's get it over.
Better baby for make it me
Jaguar speed and sharpness
wind in the hair
speed demons, debonair
sleek, cocky
the antonym of cocky.
Me better it baby make for
Roxanne, my pet
you've never yet
disappointed me.
Wise innocence
tinged with helplessness.
It for baby me better make
Cattiness, baby, get over it
You've so much to make. What you fretting for?
You call yourself me... can't do better?
The wooded path came to an end
Next to a sparkling pool
The water deep and clear as glass
And icy, icy cool
I looked to see the waters source
When looking up I found
The crystal waters, from snowy peaks
Made hardly an audible sound
Amazed that standing before my eyes
Was a monolith in the sky
The hugeness of its mammoth rocks
A miracle, of time gone by
The covered peaks of the mountain height
Raked the merciless white washed sky
The cool gurgling current was leading the pond
Through a peaceful meadow nearby
The verdant green of the valley floor
Gave sanctuary to the elk and deer
And they grazed in luxurious abundance
Content, without a fear
With the waters murmuring over well worn stones
I heard a plaintive song
The winds that blow through the crevices above
Makes music all day long
Then from a craggy precipice
A high pitched wailing call
Like a mother cougars' maternal sound
Announcing her new cub to all
What a beautiful world, everything seems good
My day has been truly blessed
From a morning walk into the wooded hills
To an unending wilderness!
I slowly walked on a winding path
Through a meadow of flowers knee high
And the sun beyond a far off hill
Was making colors in the sky
Eternally grateful I turned and looked back
Some clouds now covered its height
The rays of the sun produced a buttering glow
As daylight surrendered to night.
Lions, tigers and bears alarm me, no-brainer!
Zookeepers seem to like them and circus trainers.
Some blokes put gray in your hair - like Freddy Krueger
but strokes are not funny, I panic 'round cougars.
Pythons, parrots and apes distress me, no-brainer
Crocodile Dundee was just an entertainer.
Trees are traps and leopards lie perfectly still there,
they'll permanently jeopardize lots more than hair.
Gray wolves, foxes and deer upset me, no-brainer
Forest rangers take care and jungle campaigners.
Locks don't stop gorillas, stray geese or grizzlies
merely seeing them turns my locks to frizzlies.
Toadfrogs, lizards and hares concern me, no-brainer.
Steve Irwin, I am not, should I make it plainer?
Lions, tigers and bears make me sweat unaware,
wild animal beasties leave me pulling my hair.
Fearless flames licking the night
as the glow flickers fire in their eyes
ah the tales round campfires light
of Sasquatch shadows and cougars demise
When sleepily those embers to ash burn down
like marshmallows slipping to the ground
lanterns cast their final shadows
In exchange for adventures awaiting tomorrow
A final gaze at a zillion stars
shinning their sign of specked hope
for a soul to know peace is only so far
as blackened woods against constellations cloak
As I lay me down to sleep
not a care in the world can persuade me
to take for granted my humble retreat
safely bunked with my horses by the creek
Sunshine flashes her brilliant stare
like diamond wings playfully fluttering
over morning rivers greeted with prayer
while wee ones still in tents lay slumbering
Until the hunger fails to quit
resisting whiffs of luscious scent
hash-browns and bacon crisp...
with flapjacks bearing the final lament
Here they come sleepy and wistful
cocoa for the kido's hair in a muddle
and coffee for the men now donning stubble
the ones bearing tissue and the O'l faithful shovel
The slightest breeze sweet smell of earth
shooting, hiking, splitting wood
traditions passed down again to preserve
laughter in a still frame subtly procured
Camping is the life, simple yet rich
meadows of wildflowers by the lake
kayak drifts near wild lavender I pick
with a wave saying thanks to the boaters wake :-(
Of all the trips money can buy
exotic lands, places to fly...
there's no place better to spend a summer
then camping where the wonder comes uncovered
The older woman suddenly beams
When the young man says they are his dream
Thinking he's a fan
She flashes her cans
But his T-shirt reads, 'Cougars Football Team.'
She walks in to the disco
Feeling pretty hot
Glances from the others
Tell her that she’s not.
Killer heels do just that
Lips a cupid bow
Drops her Prada handbag
Wrinkles start to show.
Downs a quick Bacardi
Drinking makes her bold
Confidence is growing
Away from her cuckold.
Geezers in the corner
Laugh into their pints
Quick one round the back
Better than a fight.
Twenty each, bet is on,
First one out the door
Get another round in
Won’t take long for sure.
Lads all start to cheer him
Barely heard above the beat
Sweat pours down his forehead
Glass beneath his feet.
Heads off to the ladies
Startled by harsh light
Best friend at her side
Two cougars in the night.
She looks into a mirror
Mascara down her cheeks
Wipes her eyes, full of doubt
The company she seeks.
Another bottled Breezer
The pain will go away
Think about tonight
How to make him pay.
First attempt, chat her up
Give out some on blarney
Flashy car, lots of cash,
Time spent in the Army.
Down in one, more to drink
Atmosphere is cool
Muscle flex, turns her nose
Starts to feel a fool.
Offers her a lift home
Does she want a ride
Drop off by the station
Should she keep her pride.
Love bite on the shoulder
Hopes it can’t be seen
Stomach churns with sickness
How stupid she has been.
Gets home Sunday morning
Feeling really cheap
Clock shows 4 am
Really needs to sleep.
Old man in drunken stupor
Whisky glass beside
Slithers into bed
Sleep is where she hides.
Later in the day
She’ll be chatting on the phone
Talking of the weekend
How she was not alone.
Was it really worth it
It doesn’t solve a thing
Bitter clouds descend
Floor begins to spin.
On the other side of town
Down another street
A wife is full of tears
Her husband is a cheat.
Restless soccer moms,
whose kittens have all become mature,
got plenty of suburban boredom
Time enough for sure
to get hooked on every advertised lure
As daytime soaps and gossip kitsch
are the mundane, daily double feature
So they buy themselves some
beautiful, youthful promises,
packaged in a slick cardio video
Victoria got some bedroom secrets
that frustrated spouses wanna know
Put the proper promotional letters
in the slotted payment space
Then they sit back and anticipate,
let that warm scented water luxuriate
their uncaged primal thoughts:
That lackluster romantic routine
with the half-interested spouse
has become so very predictable
Mannequin lovemaking so emotional sterile
When expedited delivery late evening come,
they strike their favorite sexy pose,
in their most come-hither revealing clothes
But such meticulously planned foreplay
gets the usual NITM treatment today
This last straw has stirred these tigress spirits,
but not in a good way
When the Good Wives Club start breaking bad,
there’s gonna be divorce hell to pay
Those Ladies Night Out
now grinds to an adulterous sway
Neglected desires are maritally hated,
lost fidelity mourned in Goth black
Intimacy ignored is so cold calculated;
bad math, write digits for call back
Cougars don’t like being domesticated,
coyote ugly do love to run in a pack
Foxy motives ain’t hen house overrated,
passionate predators are on the attack
Suburban lionesses on a stag hunting mission,
got dark jaguar urban jungle keen night vision
Painted panthers on a one-night-stand prowl,
coy cheetahs moving fast with their claws out,
Hot, feral women with cougar pent-up emotions,
are lethal loving leopards with spotted devotions
Passionate predators,
only lascivious hearts dare venture
If you got a taste for the forbidden,
then you got a wish to be eaten
Acronym alert:
NITM
(Not in the mood)
**Poetic shorthand —
Romantic Warrior
From my perspective, a 27 year old male,
A woman's true beauty never sets sail.
The stereotype is women should date older men,
and we should date the younger hen.
Cougars think this should change.
I like it, to me it doesn't sound strange.
Some women just know what they want.
And some nights they go on the prowl and hunt.
Just as any animal out there lurking, their behavior can be risky.
Just as all other animals, sometimes you just want to get frisky.
Most younger men like this, but they say it all depends.
This means they like it, as long as they aren't seen leaving by his friends.
So mostly I don't have a problem with the cougar effect,
but there is one part of it that I do reject.
Its the part where I tell my friends I'm getting my gun,
because they tell me all the time, that my mom is one.
***By Chris Matt for Dr. Ram Mehta's contest “The Cougar Effect."
The places I go with my arrows and bow
on glorious Autumn days.
Barking squirrels and cawing crows
pain staking miles that heal the soul
In the light of day I stalk my prey
anticipating any movement coming my way.
Deeper into the forrest I go
with only my primitive arrow and bow
There are shadows cast of light on light
which echo surreal color o're every tree
and ripples roll o're every stone
beneath the moss banked creek
A Cougars den of twisted stump
Show drag and bone of evidenced home
Ah the thrill to know I too am hunted;
Prey and predator never creep alone
A bow huntress
A life I seek to take
but I shall not attempt a shot
beyond my skill to make
I'll loose my arrow
swift and true
No creature to feel pain
of a miss undue
A clean quick kill or no kill at all
Such is my desire.
Practiced skill to make it so
for I own the wisdom to hold my fire
A practiced craft
A primitive fight
Arrows with broad heads
steady for flight
I know in my heart
I owe my quarry this
There's some things more costly
then merely a miss
I sit up in the trees, in blinds and in brush
waiting with patience
for that split second rush
Following trails left behind
of those elusive beats in this garden I find
to be one with peace, and peace of mind
wind whispering their scent and that of mine
Silently I pass
to raise no alarm
branches gently touch
then slide from my arm
Eyes to the path
of the trails I follow
To the antlers elusive
hidden in the hollows
The only noise
the beating of my heart
I was born for this
I knew from the start
As I raise my bow
and fall to one knee
as if in eerie slow motion
Draw -
then loose my arrow
with awe
and simple devotion
THWAK - KATHUNK
A creature is dead
Now comes the true work
for the tales to be said
round the next gathering
and the breaking of bread
When I was just a little boy
we picnicked under alpine skies,
one time a mule deer strolled out
and fed in the meadow nearby.
Tall, curving antlers rising up
from a regal, tan-grey head
“The finest buck I’ve ever seen,”
were the words my father said.
Then I noticed something moving,
a tawny shape slinked through trees,
suddenly my father leapt on up
and put himself in front of me.
But it wasn’t me in danger,
though the cougar inspired fear,
that stealthy cat had yellow eyes
fixed upon the stately deer.
“Get on out of here!”Dad shouted,
and the deer froze in alarm,
out bounded the great cougar,
In one leap moving so far.
Then the buck, he startled,
In a stott he flew away,
for a few frantic moments
the cougar, he gave chase!
But cougars are cast as sprinters,
not built for marathons,
in seconds the cat gave up
and the buck kept running on.
That’s what I remembered
as a boy of only four,
though when I did grow older
I remembered something more...
I could recall the flashing teeth
plunging into the deer’s neck,
I could recall my mother screaming,
my dad shouting,”Get back!”
I remember seeing the cougar
stare back and snarl at us,
and I remember leaving quickly,
my dad picking me up.
I suppose that my young mind
had to block out what I’d seen,
far too young to deal with it
I started misremembering.
A strong defense mechanism
built up by the conscious mind,
but the subconscious saw it all,
and waited patiently for its time.
It reappeared at twelve years old,
the truth my youth blocked out.
It had an effect, a serious one,
it filled my head with doubts.
How could such violence coexist
with a world of such beauty?
And if that proud deer went down,
what awaited a budding teen?
Pondering such for long hours
did not make me popular,
yet the more I blocked it,
the more uncertainty stirred.
I kept asking those deep questions
about power, evil, and will,
unaware that they’d stymied
minds of far better skill.
To this day I have no answers,
though asking was good for me,
turned pondering into a job
writing pop philosophy.
All of it traced to that day,
my first brush with mortal fear,
when I learned Earth is the type of place
where the cougar eats the deer.
Cats In The Cradle
cougar
prancing terrain,
prospect's skinny dipping,
yearning inside her garden groove
howling
connie pachecho
6/09/17
Note-With the title I wanted to suggest that there are two
types of cats, cougars. Play on words. This poem reads
both ways. For example an older women (of cougar myth
prancing the dance floor) for her young buck, and the wild cat
likewise searching for a young buck.