Long Animalscat Poems

Long Animalscat Poems. Below are the most popular long Animalscat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Animalscat poems by poem length and keyword.


Mouser the Distillery Cat

. Mouser.

The distillery cat was flat on his back
He’d had too much to drink.
The silly moggy his mind was foggy
He could hardly think.

It was thee day he was on his way
His time was really up.
The rules require he must retire
So he had drunk from the goodbye cup!

Those little mice they didn’t think twice
they quickly ran amok
And in no time felt quite sublime
Could not believe their luck!

Tails in the air, Mouser so unaware 
Their party had began.
For life’s a must, much was discussed
Like an employee ownership plan.

“Imagine if, Mouser was a stiff
And we all ruled this place,
By and large we’d be in charge
Something we could all embrace.”

But just at that appeared a Rat,
You know what they all say.
You’re never more than through a door
Away from their decay.

“Well gee whiz, so what is this 
We have an open house.”
He said with grin, “I’ll just move in
And go and get my spouse.”

The mice felt down and wore a frown
And thought we can’t have this,
Awake that cat from off his mat
Get him out his drunken bliss.

So it was to great applause
He had ended up quite upset,
They’d  got the hose and gave a dose
Of water cold and wet!

Mouser howled then he scowled
Jumped up and cried aloud,
“I’ll get those mice they are my vice
They will end up in a shroud.”

The mice did flee with so much glee
The Rat it disappeared.
Mousers head felt like stale bread
His paws they went real weird. 

And so it was, like an arbitration clause
Came in the Big Bad Boss.
“What’s all this noise I don’t enjoys,
I prefer a hearing loss!”

So Mouser stayed, a big blockade
And the mice he tipped a wink,
The big brown Rat, he don’t like a cat 
That’s had too much to drink!

Now drink can make you think
It can feel  good alright.
Whiskey can make you frisky
But it can also make you fight!

For a Scottish cat enjoys combat
As much  as a Father loves his daughter,
Although there is a cure,
maybe it is obscure,

We could of course add water!
Form: Rhyme


Boss Cat and the Botticelli Nude

"Suddenly you remember an old Chinese tale in which cats once ran 
     the world until they decided it was too much bother.  That's when you 
     stepped in, another story.  Say you get up now and go back to work"
                                                                       Dian Duchin Reed  
I once had a Lilac Point Siamese of royal lineage 
who entered our commoner family as a small 
ball of silky fur, home-schooled in the basement 
until he discovered the joys of the climb.  
In time, he grew beautiful, sleek, and mischievous, 
loved the warmth of sunshine and stovetop, 
delighted in rearranging the coffee table flowers
in front of my egg yolk yellow plastic couch,
(it WAS the seventies, after all).  One shout,
and he was out, knowing the rules

of the house, knowing too, noblesse oblige,
that pardon followed hard on the paws of beauty,
intelligence, and a feline sense of humor.
At bath time, cats and water at polar ends
of the tub, I was a Botticelli nude, awash in suds,
cat at breast, his blue eyes black with dread,
and though love prevailed between the species,
when toweled dry, cat fled, taking his righteous,
royal rage to simmer beneath the bed.

We named him "Charlie Chan" for the serial 
father of forties' movie fame, Charlie when in grace,
C Chan, shouted out when in the cathouse 
with his mom, Super Cat by any name.  Daily
reveille was his, crouching bedside each dawn,
minutes to spare by cat time until the alarm clock
triggered a leap into our bed, and a practiced
tread over recalcitrant bodies.

If, as it is said, animals have no sense 
of future tense, then Chan, a blessed Buddha 
of the interminable now, could not foresee "NO pets" 
unwelcomed in our path.  Into the arms 
of another woman who pledged to love him, I 
placed one confused and frightened cat.  Now 
years past, absence making missing stronger, 
I cannot part with the broken heart
I ask this poem to mend.
© Nola Perez  Create an image from this poem.

Madonna Lionessa (Part I)

--Before meeting with her father & sisters, Cordelia is dealt a card depicting Woodwose by
Mor-Ríoghain, in the guise of a gypsy hag.

i.

As my sister's once-beautiful gray cat looks at me
She wasted now by a thyroid condition
I wonder what she sees in me today.
I think it would be nice to have a cat
Too bad I'm so allergic
Worse case of it we ever seen
They said at Walter Reed
And they'd given me just half a dose
On the arm during the allergy test
As I had warned '˜em.
I wouldn't want a house cat
A cat should be out-of-doors
In a barn killing mice and vermin
Stalking song-birds and eliminating
The timid humor of the chipmunk
A tiny lion.
Predator.

The sweetest thing I ever saw
Was a particoloured tabby 
Crouched on a lawn
A tiny lion for sure
A beautiful hunting stalking machine.
She had a bell around her neck
And it was funny
This middle class hausfrau attempt
To deprive Tabby not of her powers
But of her reward.

They belled you, my tiny lion
So they could claim your rewards.
But you are courageous, nimble,
And you fear no pain.
With your jackrabbit hind legs
And your fierce forepaws
You manipulated the 
Constraining leather collar,
Yanked and pulled and pushed
Yourself away from the executioner's yoke; 
Impossible but that's your genius
To do what can't be done.
And when it was over
Claws cracked
Your neck scratched and bleeding
Drying blood stiffening the matted fur
Your coat no longer lustrous due to the
Enormity of your labour
You lay in the grass on your side 
One eye glancing a peal-less heaven at an oblique angle
Over the tops of trees dancing together in a flying grove
Their purpose forgotten by the once-born.
They thought they could defeat you 
And you vowed after surviving your small Shoah
'Never again.'

Premium Member The Perils of Medicating a Cat

'Tis well known that when medicating cats they can become rather crabby,
So, this free advice is provided when feeding pills to the family tabby.
As if holding a baby, cradle the cat in the crook of your left arm.
(Wrapping both arms with towels wouldn't do any harm!)

Putting pressure to the cheeks, open his mouth, jamming the pill down his maw.
(Apply bandages to the gashes on your jaw left by Felix's lethal paw!)
Since he wouldn't swallow the pill, pick up the soggy mess from the floor,
And try to tackle the little rascal as he streaks for the open door!

Next, kneel on the floor with the cat firmly gripped between your thighs.
(Enlisting your spouse's aid to subdue the critter would be very wise!)
Place the pill on the end of a drinking straw and blow it down his pharynx.
(Taking care not to swallow the pill yourself or damage his delicate larynx!)

After using naughty and nasty language that is here best left unsaid,
And coaxing the rowdy patient from beneath the king-sized bed,
Try forcing his clamped jaws open with a handy tablespoon.
(Then, pick up the shattered vases that all about the room are strewn!)

After chasing the scoundrel around the neighborhood on an exciting spree,
The fire department should be called to rescue Felix from the neighbor's tree!
Then, call the local animal control people to pick up the cat from hell!
Later, call the pet store to see if they have gerbils, fish or parakeets to sell!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member "guardian Spirit"

John moses freeman~True Personal Story

To a cold dark room void of any heat, 
A cat came in the night to warm the feet,
Of a ten year old child__ wild, but heart so meek,
Enhanced child’s slumber to be warm and less bleak.

Cold freezing rain, a meow at a window pane.
A pillow stuffed in a broken window pane,
Removed to let feline in, out of the rain.
Seem to relieve them both of their world's pain.

The lonely child would stroke and the cat would purr,
Old stray had the softest, sweet smelling fur.
Down under the covers to the child's feet,
Would wrapped around to be a pulsating heat.

Now the adult who was the lonely child,
All grown up meekly and not the least bit wild,
Wonders about the cat in the winter squalls,
A cat never he saw, not even it's paws.

Bobbed tail Manx cat the old man now with pranks,
Mysterious connection old man thinks.
How beautiful are the feet so warm and complete.
Mystery__ his Manx cat also prefers his feet.

Spirit or otherwise old man doth realize,
Cat of his childhood was not a big guise.
Feet all warmed and complete, not in conceit,
To him not a mystery, God warmed his feet.

For: Cat Poems
            In Honor of:~Constance~ Rambling Poet
Form: Rhyme


Another Day In Paradise

Sweet satin dreams prempts peeks of sun
Through white slant eyed and dusty blinds

Sending furnance like blasts of heat at times
Yet cooled by an overhead fan.

The patter of cat paws upon my turquoise sheets
Alerts me every morning for wet food eats.

She meows and turns her head from side to side
As if to say,"Daddy its time, its time".

At first I am bothered but I give her a smile
Then cradle her in my arms, for she's my loving child.

So off to the fridge I go, without any curses or gab
While she stares at me , I know I must, quickly go wash my hands.

After that I grab a cigarette and micro wave my coffee,
Dear Rosey my sweet little female cat ,I feel is much too bossy.

Outside I go with cup in hand then search for a second lighter
Then look up at the clear blue skies, the mountains that I admire.

As I hang out and sip and smoke without any plans
Its another day in paradise and I'm a sober man.
Amongst the brush piles and leaves the handyman didn't remove.

Once inside I put down my cup then crank up my computer,
And no e mail is found.
 
Its another day in paradise and I wouldn't change a thing,
If I were rich or even poorer I'd stay exactly the same.

Cats!!!!!!!!!!!

No one has ever had a full title or deed to a cat
If you are nice, some of their time you will get
They only like certain things to eat
You think that you are the boss, need to re-think that
They will let you know who is the boss, so don't forget
You favorite chair will become their seat

A cat has a soul you will never claim
They are as independent as a hog on ice
And a mind that belongs to no one
After having one, you will never be the same
Spoiled now,they used to catch mice
Can make you madder than anything under the Sun

They will let you pet then when they want to
They will scratch you when they damn well please
They bathe themselves, water is the foe
Forget about orders, they are going to do what they want to do
They do lazy with the greatest of ease
When they want something, they will let you know

Not like an old dog that always your best friend
In his eyes you can do no wrong
But still people have a  cat around the house
And that can be a battle to the bitter end
They think that is where they belong
Not at the barn, catching a mouse
© Danny Nunn  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Premium Member Doggone Dog Contest

DOG DAY AFTERNOON

Old hound takes a nap in the shade of the trees
No pep, no sap, no afternoon breeze

He's much too lazy to chase the neighborhood cat
Who sauntered on by, and smugly sat

She taunts and preens, this feline brat
Hound opens one eye, scratches this and that

Too lazy to notice the bothersome cat
So Miss Cat curls up to take a nap

The hound, the cat, snooze side by side
Till the afternoon sun bids the day goodbye

Old hound wakes up, yawns and stretches
Miss Cat wakes too, her behind itches

They groom, and lick and scratch their fleas
No modesty, they bathe with ease

Then the hound stands up, with change of heart
He starts to growl, that's when trouble starts!

Miss Cat perks up, the tables are turned
She attacks full force, her neighbor is spurned!

Now things are as normal, as they can be
Old hound chases Miss Cat...right up the tree!
day
Form: Couplet

Orange Cat

Just an ol' Tom Cat
dirty orange in color,
Rummaging like a rat
through filth and squalor

Painfully moving with an obvious limp
and a single eye from which to glimpse.
Orange cat advanced with a hesitant skimp;
so sorrowful a cat I haven't seen since.

Confused and frightened
I could sense his pain.
Sorrowful and disheartened
He began to fain.

Without value or worth,
abandoned and alone,
he searched from birth
trying to find a home.

Such a dreadful place
to see suffering like that,
in the trash and waste
where I found orange cat.

He struggled with broken limb
and to not ease his strain
would have been a sin
for anyone who could help him.

Giving him worth and value
I cuddled him in my lap,
providing affection anew,
he loved me for that.

After a hard fought struggle
he died that night.
In the warmth of a cuddle
he ended his plight.
© Ed Coet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Who's In Charge?

He ran up the telephone pole,
He did not tell us why.
He stayed there all the whole day long
Though, to talk him down, we tried.

He sat there and he meowed all day.
It was a pitiful sight.
We begged and pleaded and offered treats
And cajoled with all our might.

We had all but given up
When our little girl, who was so small
Stood under the telephone pole
And up to her cat she did call.

" Get down here right now !" she yelled
In her most indignant tone of voice
And damned if he didn't jump into her arms
Because, obviously, he had no choice.

She may have been the smallest one
Of the family that this cat had
But she was the one he held in esteem
And he didn't like her mad.




for Miranda and Max
Form: Rhyme

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