Long Kiki Poems
Long Kiki Poems. Below are the most popular long Kiki by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kiki poems by poem length and keyword.
From memory's gentle and sun-drenched haze,
A tapestry woven of cat-filled days.
They prowl through the heart, a paw print each one,
Leaving love in their wake when their time here is done.
First, JakJak, a strange and wonderful cat,
A creamy striped tabby, a lovable brat.
So full of affection, a quirky sweet soul,
Making all of us laugh and making our days whole.
Then KiKi, my talky thing, black and so white,
Who answered my words with all of her might.
A conversation, a meow, a gentle reply,
A voice that will live on beneath the sky.
Next, Sophie, my shadow of silvery gray,
Who followed me closely throughout every day.
A lover of yarn and a soft, purring friend,
Whose love and devotion knew no end.
Tuffy, so old, and a comfort so deep,
A gray and white hug that I long to keep.
Content in my arms, with his gentle, sweet gaze,
A quiet companion through all of our days.
The queenly Aieka, a mischievous sprite,
A black calico shadow, a queen of the night.
She ruled with a whisper, a mischievous gleam,
A beautiful spirit, a mischievous dream.
And Kimba, the tabby, with fur striped and bold,
A wild outdoor heart, a story untold.
He roamed in the fields, but came home for a plea,
For cuddles and warmth, and a moment with me.
The wild one, Lollipop, a boisterous delight,
A calico blur, a flash in the light.
She's dainty outside but a chaos within,
A pick-up-me queen where her love can begin.
And silent Tinkers, a black and white friend,
Who watches the world 'til the sun's gentle end.
She sleeps in her box, a cozy warm space,
Just a cat keeping to herself with quiet grace.
Each one a unique and beautiful friend,
A story of love that will never quite end.
They live in our hearts, a meow or a purr,
The softest of memories, wrapped up in fur.
Once i lived with an uncle in a sleepy coastal town
who had a very beautiful house help from upcountry
now my male cousin Kiki desired to have a relationship
with our beautiful house help who was very lovely
One day Kiki arrives home alone he tries his advances
she flatly rejects him he then tries harder than its allowed
with no success.. later that night he is summoned by my uncle
Kiki tries best to defend himself....but is severely reprimanded
Now my Chieftain uncle is given to punishment and for Kiki
our Kiki is ordered to spend the night in the Chicken house..
not the European pet chickens these are real African chicken
complete with a rooster who scratches Kiki mercilessly
Come morning Kiki is full of scratches but he has learnt his lesson
he apologizes like his life depends on it and high tails out of the house
Safari my chieftains uncle we all love him but is know to be really hard
when it comes to meting out punishment and our Kiki had it coming
Lewis Nyaga
mambo ya pwani
In May the year of 1912 Albert left his home in Lyon.
He made his way to ecole Sommer at Genever's Mourmelon.
In June, with circuit d'Anjou done, and with his engineer,
Albert deployed a newer engine, with eighty horse power thrust.
Leon Bathiat, colleague and friend that really he should trust
and himself a brilliant pilot, begged Albert not to try.
But on the 9th of June, while first ascending to the sky,
some say they saw a wing detach, and fighting roller coaster loops
watched plane and men fall tumbling from the sky.
Barely in his thirtieth year Albert, with his engineer,
was destined then to die.
Those daring men In their flying machines sought fame and early fortune.
Grand oncle Albert was also one, Grand oncle Albert Louis,
Affectionately known to my father as oncle Albert Louis, 'Kiki.'
A flash of white, a coat of night,
A secret tucked away from light.
Beneath the hood, a rumbling den,
Found by the Boss's truck engine then.
A tiny scrap, all soot and sheen,
The cutest stowaway ever seen.
You came to stay, a fleeting grace,
Meant for a moment, a temporary space.
But in your eyes, a velvet plea,
The promise of the life you'd be.
The heart took hold, the bond was sealed,
A tiny life that wouldn't yield.
I couldn't part, I had to keep,
A Tuxedo cat now fast asleep.
You'd walk the room, a padded tread,
And talk back sharply when you were fed.
That little meow, a chirp, a sigh,
A fierce retort from one so high In spirit, demanding to be heard,
My sweet, demanding little talkie thing.
Then came the calm, the dearest sign,
The way you'd settle, wholly mine,
A warm soft weight around my feet, A purring, rumbling, joyful beat.
The terrible day, the shadow's start,
The sudden, shocking, broken heart.
A clumsy hop, a tragic fall,
A silence answering your call.
Too young you went, so swift, so brief, Leaving behind a silent grief.
The house is dim, the floor is bare,
A silent space where you should care To knead and chatter, swift and sweet,
KiKi, my love, my cat complete,
My little talkie thing.
(tales from the viral lock-down)
Brice (my brother) is cutting through what smells like a stack of cinnamon french toast.
My stomach growls at the aroma like a hunting cat.
I jump out of bed, grab my robe and rush excitedly to the kitchen.
I see the pan in the sink.
gasp “You didn’t MAKE me any!!?” I accuse, in indignant shock.
Brice, looking up, “JESUS, get on some clothes!”
He waves his arms like he's fighting a flock of birds.
I look down, “GOD, I AM wearing clothes, you PERV! - and a bathrobe”
"Who says THAT’S a bathrobe??” He says, sarcastically.
Me: “Kiki Montparnasse!”, I say, indignantly.
My mom enters to fill her coffee cup.
Brice: “Will you please tell YOUR DAUGHTER to get on some clothes?”
My mom inspects me and I twirl for my audience.
“That IS a little sheer”, she pronounces.
“ARGH!, FINE,” I say, before stomping off to change.
I start to fume."HE CAN GO ALL OVER IN BOXER SHORTS BUT I CAN'T WEAR A BATHROBE?!!"
“And HE didn’t make EXTRA TOAST”, I yell back in pointed accusation.
“Get to work,” (on more toast) I hear her tell him, just before I slam my door.
another day…
My brother Brice is fighting with his girl-friend on the phone.
Of course, I'm only hearing 1/2 the conversation - but he sounds like a jerk.
Me: "apologize," I silently, slowly, exaggeratedly mouth
Brice: "drop dead," he mouths back, silently
Me: "I'm your sister," I say, "I get to boss you around, besides, I KNOW what’s BEST"
A minute later - He actually apologizes!!! And they make up.
(I dance around the room like Rocky)