Long Catnip Poems
Long Catnip Poems. Below are the most popular long Catnip by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Catnip poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear Santa Claws, for Christmas I’d like a new chew bone; I’ve been a real good dog this year; I don’t even bite the cat, Sheba, when she attacks my head, as I sleep and that’s not easy to do since Sheba has put a lot of holes in my head. I’d also like some medicine for it.
Please bring me a new bed too, as mine reeks of cat urine; Sheba peed on it 5 times last week, while Mommy and me were at the park.
As far as cats go, Sheba is OK but, I wish she’d stop eating all of my treats. Please bring her some of her own. Oh and one of those catnip mice she’s so crazy about, it puts her to sleep for a long time and that’ll give me a chance to play with my own toys, for a change.
Mommy could use a new winter scarf too; Sheba keeps shredding’em with her claws; she really hates anything that has fringe. It gets really ugly to watch. It’s a good thing that I’m such a good dog; otherwise I’d bite Sheba in half when she destroys things…(Does she know how lucky she is…I doubt it.)
If it’s not asking too much, can I also get a new bag of jerky treats? Also one of those neat colored rope bone toys? I love the way the ends tickle my nose when I play with it. The one you bought last year; Sheba tore it up, mistaking the stringy ends for Mommy’s scarf fringe.
You can have my last jerky treat when you come, if you want. That is, if Sheba hasn’t eaten it yet. You can also have some of my water if you’re thirsty but, please be careful not to, leave your face fur in it. Last year I almost choked to death on a piece of it. If you’d like, you can have my last pig ear too. I know all of that work in one night probably gives you a powerful appetite. (Sheba hates pig ears so I doubt she’ll mess with it.) Thanks Santa.
Sincerely,
Butch, The Dog
PS: Be careful flying Santa, there’s some new creature out flying around; his name is “Drone” and he drinks, I think ‘cause he fell last weekend and just missed my head.
Emi is a little black cat
Who knows quite a lot
For instance, she learned one night
That angels hang stars in the sky
The moon is made of catnip
And trees tell stories
When the wind whispers in their branches
Emi knows
That sunshine was made to tickle
A kitten’s belly
And grass makes a soft carpet
For tired paws
If you promise to keep a secret
She will tell you that Pocko
Is in love with Maisie Cat
Norman ate the last ice cream cone
And Moo hid the red ball under the bed
Emi knows about birds
And wishes she could fly like her friend
Jack Robin who comes for a visit every afternoon
To eat worms and share stories of his travels
There’s Maggie Magpie and her family
Who come for tea and a bit of gossip
When Emi is lonely
She is indeed a wise cat our Emi
Who knows quite a lot
Bella's entrancing green eyes
stare wistfully into my own.
She's a windowsill jumper, bounding with grace
whose taken over my apartment as if it's her place.
She's such a pretty little kitty, a catnip dancer
who seems to see herself as a feline, divine.
She charmed me on the day I found her
but as a rescue, she needed time to come to me.
I know this is where she was meant to be.
Sweet girl with a history that remains a mystery
She never meows with sass when corrected,
and her purrs are soothing whispers in the night.
Bella brings me hours of great joy
so, I reward her loyalty with a toy or two.
Wearing a long-haired burnt umber coat,
she sidles up to me, anticipating a petting.
Bella bestows love that I'll not be forgetting
A lap-curler when she chooses to be social
but aloof which proves the theory to me...
'Sometimes cats just like being left alone.'
The lion sneaked around the perimeter of the courtyard.
Hiding in the shadows, pretending he was still in the jungle.
There is something big out there! Someone hollered.
The lady smiled, because she had spotted him days ago.
She was a lion tamer. This one would come like the others.
At first, to take a bite of her, but her craft would stop this ilk.
She waited patiently, sitting beneath a bonsai tree, enjoying summer.
The lion decided to pounce. With one mighty leap he landed….
At her feet, in a kitten like pose, tummy up.
The lady reached down and scratched him behind his ears.
I have fresh meat for you, my love, she said. You will like it here.
The lion tried to roar, but a tiny wimpy purr came out.
The lady smiled, happy to give him fresh iced water and a catnip toy.
The lion had never been treated like this before.
He became her admirer, her protector and her friend.
Best of all, he never had to hide again. He was now the lady’s lion.
MEOW! cries Merlin the Magic Cat,
As he pulls magic out of his hat!
POOF! A lady Siamese appears!
PURR-they scratch each other's ears.
POOF! A service of catnip tea spread.
PURR-Sip and smile, no meows are said.
POOF! A coach with gold roses on it!
MEOW! "Mer" reads a Shakesphere sonnet.
PURRING loudly, as she smiles at him,
POOF! Eight horses await his next whim.
POOF! Two coachmen arrive ln thin air!
Reining the horses, they await there.
PURR-Will she or won't she take his arm?
He's barely begun to show his charm.
POOF! She accepts and they ride away!
PURR-Magic occurred one summer's day!
September 29, 2022
For Merlin the Magic Cat poetry contest
by Mystic Rose Rose
Couplet
You can't worry while you're staring at a sleeping cat. By Poet.
I'm Speedy, a Persian kitty ruler with blue topaz eyes.
My letter, tragically, finds me in my rough litter box.
My paws tear shades, hit beautifications, and climb trees.
My mom's feline needs an automated sparkly world litter box.
It expels all my bathroom-related clutter.
No expansive sums of pixie tidy for me to breathe.
My paws won't be throbbing and burrowing through the rubbish.
As I've hit the pooch a couple of times a year, I'm on the dulcet list.
But the rare calfskin chair, I utilized the scratching post.
I do not retain in mind the vanishing of the Barbie doll's head.
Goldie got by thumping Mama's goldfish around.
So, send me the automated super programmed litter box,
Catnip, laser toys, mouse toys, and thread are all options.
I'll strive not to scream and jump on your chest this year.
You surprised me the last time I was totally sleeping.
I'm sorry for guzzling your milk and peanut butter cookie.
Yours surely faraway,
Speedy...The King, the head of said family
meow...meow..meow
2nd Place Contest Winner
Written June 3, 2022
Personification- Pets Talking Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Wondrous frangipani...
You mesmerize me so.
Like a fan, I twirl you
Between my fingertips;
Striking yellow-white hue!
Wondrous frangipani...
You're the most eye-catching
Of all the spring flowers;
A captivating sight
After April showers.
Wondrous frangipani...
Beautiful as a tree;
Lovely in women's hair.
Stirred by a gentle breeze,
Your scent wafts in the air.
Wondrous frangipani...
Catnip to bumblebees;
Hordes of butterflies, too.
Show-stealer in gardens;
Gift to a day brand new!
All April In Monchielle Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich
Theme: April Flowers
Date written: 04/19/2022
Kitten-play is sweet;
a precious jewel of a moment renewed
by each new discovery.
A butterfly-chase ending in a bumblebee moment
of enlightenment and sometimes
a succeeding “ouch”!
The butterfly is a more hospitable playmate.
Graceful leap into a patch of soft delicate wormwood;
A tree-leap, a prick on the nose from a rosebush;
it’s about as friendly as the bumblebee!
A jet-sprint to the patio results in a
back and forth stretched-roll on the warm concrete.
The pose that says, “I like this place; can I stay?”
Perhaps on another adventurous day
kitten will discover,
the catnip bush at the far end of the yard.
Such a commotion this morning on my lawn
Way out, so I had to get closer to see what it was
At first I thought someone had left a bunch of colorful equipment out.
But then I noticed it was fast-moving, like blowing, rolling litter.
As I got close I saw it was sixteen cats playing football.
Wearing bright neon helmets of all different colours.
They wore jerseys too, with numbers, all ending in nine.
In honor of cats having nine lives I suppose.
They did not know much about football though.
Every one of them was trying to be the quarterback,
fighting over the ball, no defense whatsoever.
And why were they all wearing different colored jerseys and helmets?
I sat in a lawn chair and watched. Wondering about this weird game.
It was not a football. It was a giant catnip ball.
They were all rolling and jumping. A feline frenzy.
They had so many pile ups, I began to laugh.
None of them noticed. They were in the throes of the catnip catch.
I gave them a wide berth, returning a few hours later to pick up their debris.
Most of their jerseys were off. Some were still wearing helmets.
They were lying in an upside down huddle, in a variety of contorted positions.
I tiptoed away quietly.
Not wanting to disturb their cat naps.
Honestly, when you said I’d have
my portrait on Main Street, I didn’t expect to be the
city laughing stock.
You let that kid paint me like this?
That silly smile on my face, as if I were,
half drunk on catnip?
Do you take me for an idiot?
I’m am a proud member of the genus,
Felis Catus; not some cartoon.
Garfield, would even be offended, by this farce!
Really, do you think my legs are that twiggy?
And where’s my fur;
is it growing inside instead of outside?
And when have I ever had those
triangular pumpkin eyes?
You paint colorful spirals, bright green moons and
color burst abstracts and me as a stick cat?
Would you like it if I drew you like that?
Alright, you’ve had your joke;
now, erase that thing before you ruin my reputation!