Long Black cat Poems
Long Black cat Poems. Below are the most popular long Black cat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Black cat poems by poem length and keyword.
Nestled upon the comfort of its owner's lap,
Wakes up from a nap with teeth bearing yawn,
Stretching its arms, extending its claws.
Looking up with bright emerald eyes,
Jumps down for a stroll in the dark.
Out of the darkness it moves unseen,
Midnight black, except for its luminous eyes,
And its feline silhouette against the full moon.
It raises its nose and looks up to the lit night sky,
Switching its tail left to right, on silent paws.
It stealth across the fence not shy,
Prowling into the thickening night.
3/28/2022
Black Cat Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Black Cat hath the coldest green eyes of most hideous evil
Which chilleth my blood, causeth me the greatest upheaval;
Darkness doth pervade this creature’s most gruesome gaze
Giveth me unbridled terror, leaveth my soul in an utter haze;
Lucifer himself giveth this black demon animal its dark life
Only to bringeth me a terrifying malediction of most evil strife;
Black Cat with its visage and its promise of eternal damnation
Seeketh for me its vilest of intention and its darkest tarnation;
I prayeth then Lord God, saveth all my eternal spirit and soul
And delivereth them on All Hallows’ Eve most sound and whole!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen,
Germany (October 8, 2014) (Rhyme poetic format)
SMOKEY AND THE BLUE JAYS
As a child I had a cat,
A big black cat named Smokey.
Since I couldn't say his name,
I simply called him Pokey.
He was my cat, I loved him so,
A lovely big black Persian.
My daddy bought him just for me.
He thought he was a person.
He was a cuddle kitty true,
Whate'er I did he tried;
But though he was so sweet and cute,
He had a darker side.
He liked to sit and watch the birds,
As they frolicked in the yard.
A nest was in the lemon tree,
And mom and dad stood guard.
Then one day the cat got out,
And climbed into that tree,
He was after baby birds,
Hidden 'mongst the leaves.
Suddenly the sky grew dark,
As Blue Jays flew in rescue,
Calling more and more to come,
And hundreds more accrued.
Smokey was knocked from the tree,
Fur flew in all directions,
As Blue Jays dove at him enforce,
He ran home for protection.
My mother opened wide the door,
As Smokey ran inside,
Bleeding from his many wounds,
A vet trip was betide.
He never climbed that tree again,
Just watched beside the window,
As birdies frolicked in the yard,
He nursed his shattered ego.
So tiny and so delicate,
As here and there they flew,
But formidable and deadly,
The kitty mused, "Who knew."
Judy Ball
The little old lady puts on her gloves and her hat,
walks out to her garden, with her little black cat.
She speaks to the plants as though they could hear,
the cat just stares at the lady and meows, poor dear.
She prunes and she primps each flower with care,
the flowers respond with beauty so fair.
She waters and weeds in all of their beds,
and all of this work, a complaint never said.
She waits and she waits for her flowers to bloom,
she would grow more, if she just had the room.
And finally one morning, the roses she loves,
open their wings like a beautiful dove.
She cut one at the stem, and held to her lips,
and kissed the soft pedals, while a tear gently slipped.
The little black cat thought to himself, why does a rose get so much love,
and not something more fitting, like an old lady's glove?
10/26/18
Once a year
in the early spring
I scatter some reclaimed
seeds
from a section of yard
where the wild flowers grow --
a reserved place, there
left unattended
how they bloom, all on
their own
where the wild flowers
bloom,
a welcome to early bees
and butterflies
the old black cat seems to like
them as well
a nestled, deadly shadow, all comfy
in a lap of blazing, garnished nature
stroked by the southerly
tempering breeze
God! he has such allergies,
the poor little beast's, watery
eyes...
yet, every year
while I scatter
he seems to dream
faithfully
Lucifer, scourge of mice!
for a budding' moment, exculpated!
as a wand, my magician' hand
glides over the the future
materialized bed
seeding memories
long gone but not forgotten
when I was also omnipotent
demurely purring
one of the wild flowers
heedless of seasons
and the sentence of time --
Morning
The Innkeeper checked his watch once again
Hoping the chef's feelings weren't hurt.
The last time they were, he arrived two hours late
And then left, serving just his dessert.
Sadly the chef, on this day of all days
Turned up filthy, flies open and drunk.
A black cat meowed as the chef stumbled in;
He was unkempt and cursing and stunk.
The Innkeeper's head sank deep in his hands
As he needed his chef to be right.
The Tabard was busy and fully booked up
And was hosting a meeting that night.
Noon
To make matters worse, the chef's wife appeared
It was NOT what was needed at all.
She grabbed at chef's hair and kicked open his shin
And threw dishes and plates at the wall.
The Innkeeper tried to separate both
As utensils flew wild through the air
Then chef lost his balance taking with him a shelf
And pepper dispersed everywhere.
The chef lay there slumped and silent and still
He was bloodied and bruised on the floor.
His wife and the Innkeeper looked at each other
As chef sneezed and then let out a snore.
Night
With her husband in clinic the chef's wife revealed
The reason as to why he was mad:
- "Earlier that day he had finally found out
He was not my child's natural dad.
He took all of my money and spent it on drink
And the police were then sadly involved.
He falsely accused me of harming my son
And that issue has not been resolved."
Later That Night
Nobody ate at The Tabard for nights
But the Innkeeper learnt something instead:
- "..So I am your lover AND the father as well"
He said smiling to chef's wife in bed.
On a mist-veiled morning, when even hope had grown weary, a trembling black cat stopped at our door.
Its frightened eyes held the last spark of trust.
The world called it an omen of misfortune, yet gentle hands opened where others turned away.
Winter found warmth beneath a borrowed blanket. Day after day, a stranger became family.
The black fur so many feared to touch became the warmth that filled our silent evenings.
Then fate arrived.
We stood helpless, watching its frail body struggle for one more breath.
Its fading eyes asked for nothing-not mercy, not tears-
only one more moment beneath the sky that had finally called it home.
"50 Words for Poe: Hysteria"
Incantation to you
Manifesting the Phantom
with the Hysteria Paroxysm Blues
Hellfire Club got nothin’ on you
Hot hysteria paroxysms
flying on your broom
a whole new world
Black cat purrs
You, the catnip for this girl
https://youtu.be/boQ9ytantA0
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/ETIPuORrPyo
“I put a spell on you”
“Little gusts of sunshine blew, strangely bright, and lit up the celandines at the wood's edge, under the hazel-rods, they spangled out bright and yellow. And the wood was still, stiller, but yet gusty with crossing sun. The first windflowers were out, and all the wood seemed pale with the pallor of endless little anemones, sprinkling the shaken floor. 'The world has grown pale with thy breath.' But it was the breath of Persephone, this time; she came out of hell on a cold morning. Cold breaths of wind came, and overhead there was an anger of entangled wind caught among the twigs. It, too, was caught and trying to tear itself free, the wind, like Absalom. How cold the anemones looked, bobbing their naked white shoulders over crinoline skirts of green. But they stood it. A few first bleached little primroses too, by the path, and yellow buds unfolding themselves.” D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover
My soul’s confession knows no ordinary
penance—nor knows, nor feels, another mind
the nebulating sorrows therein maligned—.
I doubt my own can judge the cemetery
of bygone thoughts, dead dreams, and funerary
pathways—twisted in patterns twice entwined
through one and another—lurking behind
my steeple-belled conscience. On the contrary,
sermon is held just out of sight of that
sinister scene. By holy spirits spurred,
and righteous indignations, high exactions,
my preaching psyche’s overzealous word
inflames my anxious system’s charged reactions—
Leave it to the black cat to catch the rat.
she took a gigantic slurp and her eyes crossed like swords
there was no rhyme or intention, she was out of words
what was I trying to make? She asked her logical mind.
I don’t know, but you missed, said her muse, Clementine.
Eager, her black cat and familiar laughed until he hooted.
Her pet owl Felix gave three sneezes and promptly tooted
The witch rolled her eyes skyward and took another tiny sip.
Within seconds a crow’s beak came out of her lip.
Eager could not stop laughing, the owl went practically insane.
One thing you had to admit, life with this witch was never plain.
She was always making some mysterious concoction or another.
Needing advice, she jumped on the cellphone and facetimed her mother.