Long Cats Poems
Long Cats Poems. Below are the most popular long Cats by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cats poems by poem length and keyword.
Once upon a time there was a young girl,
who loved books where words would whirl, swirl and twirl.
It all began when she was just tiny,
just a baby and life was sunshiny.
Mommy would read books to her all the time,
did not understood but it was sublime.
Books about fluffy kitty cats and dogs.
about talking bears and even green frogs.
When she reached one year old she had tons- tons,
of books ... and of course some were her best ones.
She could not read but liked to carry one,
each morn' she would pick one book just for fun.
Books about the animals on the farm,
and animals at zoos that do no harm.
As she grew the books got a lot better,
she could read and even write a letter.
She had dreams of being a book writer,
for kids, poems, even a songwriter.
And she did in time so follow your dream,
just ride that magical golden sunbeam.
_________________________
February 28, 2023
Poetry/Couplet/The Book Lover
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1528-514-28
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Nursery Rhyme
sponsor, Eve Roper, Judged 03/03/2023
First Place
The guiles of spiders are designed to fetch
Life-support prey seldom of an own kind.
If wild cats hunt, it’s only food to find--
What ye call beasts, in heart hate never hatch,
Nor in hostility the hunted catch
And only kill to fill a hungry maw
In a highly held un-writ wildlife law:
Slay to survive or get slain if no match,
Knowing not else but do just as designed,
Unlike O men hunting’s thy pass-time game,
A trophy wall-mounted in flashy frame,
Purblind, heedless, ye alone hunt own kind
Thus, crowning thee as lord of death in shame
Ye write a tale of thy blood-be-soaked name.
______________________________
Musings | 08.11.2012/revised July 2026 | beast, kill, joy, men, wild, Sonnet
Note: And I am tempted to add two more sonnet endings:
To call it sport that goes to fetch thy end
In slaying lives on whom thine own depend.
Till one day Earth twirls inverted thy claim,
And he who thought him hunter turneth game.
Dogs are great; Cats disturb; Geese are brilliant,
I think of those lambs I lost in my youth;
Butterflies, O God! Look resilient,
Fish are best of pets to take care and sooth...!
Horses are pets too; solemn; rough and tough,
Monkeys seems to make mess of everything,
Parrots seem to say revealing tales;
Yet, the whole world knows, that they rut and bluff,
A combination of all these would bring,
Pets from planes or hills or mountainous vales...!
Who can compete with smell-sense of a dog?
Some sniff out even illness in people;
Cats, by nature, have a prominent clog,
Sense of sweetness, in them, is so feeble;
With their universe-like transparent wings,
Fluttering amidst blossoms vivacious,
Butterflies have tentative existence;
Could fish(es) live without fresh-water-springs?
Monkeys, though naughty, look very gracious,
Parrots, in each act, have their persistence...!
My dog can swim many kilometers,
My pretty cat can jump ten times her height;
My butterflies are best beauty-keepers,
My fish-aquarium is a delight;
Monkeys, though, disturb my garden sometimes,
My horses, though, mislead my-ways often,
My geese, though, seem maliciously grumbling;
My pets, indeed, commit no heinous crimes,
They need, never in life, find a coffin,
Human life, midst pets, is, sometimes, fumbling...!!!
02 May 2022
From many houses, pots, tubs
I'm begging my words
the alms of poems
I'm begging from-
the stars
sun to moon
star-spangled ship to the space, cosmos
the drop of the snow
the morn breeze of the autumn
smiling spring rose
the flying chirping birds
swimming pond fish
the shyness of new married woman
cats and dogs raining
matting snake or the quarrelsome butterfly and bee
a falling leaf on the calm water of pool and its ripple,
a puddle, urban smog
known-unknown inspiration or meditation
I'm begging my words
the alms of poems
silently, lovingly, timely
-Wednesday, July 31, 2019 Chattogram
For voters who sit on the fence,
Allow me to add my two cents.
If your rearing forbids
Nasty words by your kids,
Of one candidate there’s no defense.
If you’re childless, with maybe some pets,
Voting one way you’ll have no regrets,
Since when bullies are beaten
Who believe cats are eaten,
We can focus on climate and debts.
And for women, just think about Roe.
Let our ballots let everyone know
That when we get to choose,
Anti-female men lose
As our voting booth bodies will show.
This election will let us decide
If our country can cross the divide
To unite for a chance
For respect to advance
Or to mourn when democracy died.
West Coast Kool Jazz/ Spoken Word
In the air of the West, a cool breeze blows with a brushed silver sound, air-conditioned rhythm, sleek and precise, a cool jazz crown/West Coast KOOL JAZZ is born, where the vibe slides in quiet silk/where shadows flicker like neon on a sun-worn beach/ Shorty Rogers at the gate of this new thing called WEST COAST KOOL JAZZ/his jazz mates in the wings, a tight-knot of fate/Shelly Manne taps the heartbeat in drums, Red Mitchell bows the bass, Jack Sheldon paints the horn with a silver-traced grace/Frank Rosolino, Pete Condoli—names that hum in the cool jazz groove,/they sculpt the air with breath and blues that move/Soul jazz seeds sown by hands of color and courage/African American musicians paint their jazz chords into a golden collage/Clifford Brown glides, Sonny Clark lights the way/Harold Land keeps the street’s rhythem bumpin high all day/Hamton Hawes deep in the pocket/ Jimmy Bond rings the tone, Man, these cats be takin’ care of business making a living By day, IN THE RECORDING STUDIOS they chart the maps of notes those sight-reading saints in studios with movie scores in their hearts/TV shows and commercials, a vinyl jazz cosmos spun/ they stitched the world of sound until the work was done/ AT NIGHT THE CLUBS WOULD COME ALIVE in and around LA/ SHELLY MANNE’S HOLE. ZARDI’S, THE LIGHT HOUSE IN HERMOSABEACH, THE DOWNDEAT/ IN THE CITY BY THE BAY/THE BLACKHAWK, and the jazz workshop/Dig this blend: cool strutting harmonies in the air/cool jazz meshed with hard bop’s stubborn flare/East Coast grit with West Coast cool in the same breath, MAN, are you kidding me? like a highball cocktail, sun-kissed, at a beachside bar/ The cats kept their business in the cadence of the scene, living the dream/A breeze of brass, a whisper of reed/So listen—let the echoes ride the shoreline of your mind,/where shades of avocado and chrome rivers meet the electric LA grind/ THE SOUND OF THE EAST COAST BECAME WEST COAST COOL BOP/ LESS EDGY AND NOT AS FRANTIC AS A BIRD SOLO/ MAN, COOL WAS THE RULE/ HOW YOU DRESSED, ATE, and walked around town with your lady on your sleave/the West Coast cool sound//where jazz and history MEET/
Good morning, folks, welcome to my show.
Come rain or shine, I’ll tell you what you need to know.
Up north it’s raining cats and dogs; even farther up
toward the border there’s brewing a storm in a teacup.
But it will be lightening fast, yes, just a tease.
And after it has passed, everything will be a breeze.
In the central area, they’ll be chasing rainbows.
Not to steal the anchorman's thunder, that’s just how it goes.
Down south, they’ll take a rain check on the rain.
Incidentally, our governor is a weather vane!
My head may be in the clouds, but I predict tomorrow will be fine.
In fact, divine; in every region we’ll be on cloud nine.
March came in like a lamb, so I predict it goes out like a lion.
Tie your things down well; in the wind they may be flyin'.
March 19, 2022
For Matt Caliri's You're A Weather Forecaster Poetry Contest
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
She gets in bed and faces the mirror
and sees her other self, still, lying prone
takes comfort in the figure there before her,
company but in reality alone.
Maybe she sees her mother gazing at her,
since there is a good chance they look the same
some years ago abandoned, but no matter,
we found her, took her home, gave her a name.
They say that cats don't understand reflections
at first they act quite wary, then get bored
the prey or playmate shuns their close inspection
until at last their presence is ignored.
But me, I like to think that's not quite right.
Her mother blinks and wishes her goodnight.
"And if my private universe scans right, // So does the verse of galaxies divine ..." - from the poem "Pale Fire" by Vladimir Nabokov.
In Wonderland, with Alice I would walk
and speak with Cheshire Cats and one March Hare,
then through the looking glass, a Jabberwock,
as Tweedledum and Tweedledee would stare.
With Lucy in her diamond-studded sky,
newspaper taxis and cellophane flowers,
I found myself sharing marshmallow pie
with rocking horse people for countless hours.
In Narnia, I met the Pevensies
a Faun and Lion past the wardrobe door.
In Middle Earth I learned of talking trees,
and hobbits, dwarves, and elves - brave to the core.
Between the lines of lyrics, prose and verse
flew rockets in my private universe.
written 17 Sep 2020