I'm late to the
Meeting on purpose.
My back left paw
Needed 10 or 12
More licks.
Another write-up
Headed my way.
So what?
None of us can
Write or read anyway.
The Society is not
What it used to be.
The Calicos hog the floor.
Between coughing
Up hair balls
They espouse on
Innovative scratching posts
And the hidden
Benefits of sour milk.
Siamese are the worst, though.
Not saying a word. Just
Glaring about in creepy pairs.
"We are Siamese if you please DON'T."
I'm having a blast on my own,
Sitting in this tipped-over
Garbage can in my cozy-dark alley
Enjoying my Heathcliff strip.
Classic. Garfield's overwritten.
Heathcliff's real. My old friend,
Iglesias, a true Burmese,
Says he met the real Heathcliff
Back in '85. I call Bull-litter.
Ah geez,
They're rawring for me now,
Cuz it's my birthday
And they made
Some sort of parfait
Fulla old bananas
And moldy raisins.
So if I'm a total no-show
They're all gonna be
Hissed off.
I better get going.
Thanks for listening
To my PurrCast.
Don't forget to
Lick and subscribe.
Categories:
calicos, cat, funny,
Form: Free verse
Kittens in purple, pink, red, yellow and blue
Calicos, tabbies, Manx and Siamese too.
Sitting on brooms with witches in every hue,
I reach for my paints, creativity long overdue.
A serious artist who lives in her woo-woo,
New brushes are here, which is a huge coup.
I give my pirate queen a darling new hair up do.
Some may think my art is a bit of frou-frou.
Whimsy I seem to enthusiastically and often overdo,
It’s loved by my friend Amanda Mary Sue Lou.
I add generous dollops of silver and gold glitter glue.
Glad that I found this pastime, my darling, aren’t you?
Categories:
calicos, art,
Form: Monorhyme
Blue merles howl.
Red calicos beetle.
Unanesthetized cats rind.
Hazel catkins laugh.
Categories:
calicos, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Acrostic
Back each eve, his shadow-like huge,
black panther shadow comes, then sotly leaves.
In those bright, alarm lights,
My cat notices and on my couch
alights.
Two calicos having a visit and so,
He then with utter sweetness goes.
I call it now, my deck of dreams,
When I observe this feline team.
Animals have messages for us, if we listen
closely and well.
Indigenous people of this do tell!
Thus, if any animal comes your way.
Turn off the news,as he might just for
you have, something profound to say!
12/9/2020
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Categories:
calicos, cat, imagery, night,
Form: Couplet
I looked past the priest and saw auntie and grandma.
They were cuddled, holding each other up.
Grandma being Catholic was wearing her purple scarf.
Even though Daddy’s funeral was outside, a priest was here.
Auntie Maria was holding her red umbrella.
It was sprinkling, of course.
It always sprinkles during a D’agosto funeral.
Ask any D’agosto and they will admit this.
Behind my relatives I saw a younger lady bent over flowers.
She was touching them in a delicate, respectful, lovely way.
Marigolds and carnations. I thought I might see her face, but didn’t.
The priest droned on. He was trying to save us.
Everyone seemed to wear flowers today, lots of calicos and cottons.
I was wearing a plain black dowdy dress chosen by my mother.
I saw Daddy behind the flower lady. He waved before he disappeared.
I was only six but I have always remembered that last moment with him.
Categories:
calicos, funeral,
Form: Prose Poetry
Oh how I do love cats.
Not rats or bats,
Spats or hats;
(although I do own a chapeau or two).
I love cats of all sizes, colors and shapes;
even though they get in a lot of scrapes.
I love calicos, tabbies, marbled too;
I really love a Persian Blue.
I love them whether they have boots or socks;
I adore all their furry frocks.
Short-haired, long-haired, cats are great;
With cats, I love to celebrate.
They bring such joy and elation;
but, when they get in an altercation,
I calm them with my guitar strings;
cats do love to hear folks sing.
They stop to listen to my songs,
but they definitely don’t like drums or gongs.
So I sing and they calm down;
quite tranquil then’s, my kitty-crowd.
Categories:
calicos, animal, cat, friend, fun,
Form: Rhyme
Hippie-like, wearing flowered house dresses, she dances.
Adorned with calicos, and tabbies, she glides around her kitchen.
There is a lemon-smell to her; it is amazingly fresh.
Oatmeal too, and fresh Dove soap.
My nose likes sniffing her.
She comes alive when she is home with her cats.
A different person, someone who cares, open, honest, free.
When I want a raise I go to her home, and admire Fluffy, her favorite.
At work she is the boss, dressed in a suit, nothing open about her.
I read her proudly.
Categories:
calicos, cat, jobs, life,
Form: Free verse
window bed for two
rapt audience of magic
lazy calicos
May8/14
Categories:
calicos, cat,
Form: Haiku