Long Mewed Poems
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Merlin the cranky cat
sat around getting fat.
Wanting to be heard
he mewed and purred.
He yowled and howled
and even growled
all with the same result.
He felt it quite the insult.
He snarled and hissed
What had he missed?
He tried a mewl
and lost his cool.
Short of a caterwaul
what should he call?
A tiny squeak perhaps?
Were they taking naps?
Chirrups and chirps
brought no alerts.
His tail-raising trills
brought no thrills.
He wanted dinner now.
He raised a loud MEOW!
Using the magic word
he finally was heard!
Merlin became the Magic Cat
in his tuxedo and top hat.
The other cats took their cue.
“Meow” meant “Please and thank you!”
The moral is if dinner you choose,
learn to mind your Ps and Mews!
The three imps decided to explore
And obtain a few treats as before.
Behind them, a cat mewed for her treat
But they refused in their own conceit.
The feline vowed she'd have her revenge,
They weren't afraid of any challenge
The cat saw them enter unafraid
As night darkness fell all light did fade.
A sharp moonbeam fell on a painting.
A lady, lovely but eyes glaring.
She screamed at the bad boys for stealing
The treats, in a manner unfeeling.
Fear entered their souls as all sweets fell.
The woman uttered a nasty spell
The moon shone brightly on the beauty.
On her lap, she kissed her black booty.
Many came to see cat on her lap,
It is witchcraft, said a nervous chap.
No one dared enter the house at night,
They'd rush out in fear, scratched and uptight.
ButtercupShalimar was a cat, that was white
She was fluffy and furry and real girl girly.
One day, in a baskety in the bedrommy,
She had six kittiebabies with big, big loud cries . . .
Mew mew mew MEW! They all cried and, all the time!
And soon they grew grew grew grew and GREW!
There were three girl kitties and three boy kitties, too
The girl kitties were all sugar and spice sweetness,
And their names were SquigglesWigglesGreyKitty,
PebblesFluffyWhiteKitty and TickleCuddlesOrangeKitty.
The boys were called, DoodlesDafferBrownKitty,
WeeblesWonkiSpottedKitty and last PuddlesRascalBlackKitty.
The boys were all hoop and holler, you know boys!
Well, life for ButtercupShalimar was upanddownable,
It was CRAZY keeping track of the six hooligans
but she needed a rest outside, so she left them sleeping,
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ . . .
When ButtercupShalimar came back it was all topsy turfy
in the housedippity with the back and forth and up and down
of six rough and ready kittiebabies all aroaming unsupervised!
She gathered them up and started counting . . .
One kitty, two kitty, three kitty, four kitty, five kitty . . . huh
"OH MY WHISKERS!" Screamed ButtercupShalimar,
"Where is SquigglesWigglesGreyKitty!
So they searched the housedippity, they all marched,
up and down, around and around, up in the attic
and even down in the basement, they yelled,
"Has anyone seen SquigglesWigglesGreyKitty?"
They mewed mewed to the dog, the bird in its cage,
and even a mouse walking by!
"Oh dear, oh dear, OH Dear ME, where could she be?"
And the five all answered at once, "WE DON'T KNOW, know."
All exhausted and dragging their paws they went
to the baskety in the bedroomy for a wee rest,
And whatdoyouthunk they saw all curled upidy
SquigglesWigglesGreyKitty with her head tucked under her paws!
So, if you lose a kittiebabie, look in the baskety in the
bedroomy closetety, FIRST!
___________________________
August 20, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/ButtercupShalimarCat
Copyright Protected, ID 15-702-352-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Childrens Story, Dr. Suess Style,
Sponsor, Casarah Nance
Sixth Place
The gunman secures by his concealed identity
shrouded in mystery, shadows lurking out of sight
kills, by order, greed, and convenience.
With blood-stained conscious
Our land Sliding into anarchy, becoming a boiling cauldron
But where is the unknown gunman from?
Every time he showed up spending noisy hours,
he left unscathed perhaps the cries of the victims
couldn’t rouse the night watch men from their slumber,
honestly, they must have been tired.
After all our leaders only condemn such act
and as good citizens we weren’t expecting more.
Our leaders tiptoe and mewed
oh, the fear is potent. it’s a cold war but who’s after us?
Here, crimes can be control except that of the unknown gunmen
Amid the deep smoke from his firearm
Many lives brought to their unexpected end,
Maybe these gunmen are not truly unknown.
Since the impart of the state are rarely felt
the government remain unknown by most citizens
probably they’re all unknown,
the decimation of the night watch men is a flight into anarchy,
once violence is allowed to sit,
it cannot be ordered to leave.
while officials rehash old press releases
with misguided rhetoric, daily doses of media reports
on activities of the unknown gunmen are relentless.
With many federating units like the polygamous home of an African king,
justice, equity, and fair play should be central place
only then can we raise and dust ourselves to face the future which is now.
Tom, the rebel cat was obstinate and stray
Though active, intelligent, quick and strong,
He always kept himself unfed for long
Till he hunted and got his own prey
His old master, for this, had kept
A set distance for him to move about and mew ;
He did it often with a straight tail, skew
Till he had to take his hunting stance inept
Miss. Havisham, senile and fastidious ,had chosen
Molly the freckled cat and dressed her well,
In colours, scarf and on the head a hat, swell
She was most pampered and with over- care frozen
Molly, despite alarm had learnt not to move,
And at all odds and ends around stay cool;
Her custodian had made a hard rule :
'Avoid all male creatures and never make friends'.
Things went well and Molly turned saucy,
Ever floating in a world dreamy and sly ;
The changing wave entered the casement high;
And before her, slouched Tom the proposer ,classy :
' This is Tom, from the house across the parapet
' I have watched you closely and from far
' With love, I find we are upto par '
Molly waited not, as if things were all set
Right under the pointed nose of the old lady
The duo strode ; and Tom did smirk
And mewed , finding that his own ways do well work :
' Right proposals rid of lapses and all malady'...!
Juliet Cat was an amazing high-drama queen
I am not lying, exaggerating or trying to be mean.
She used to spend hours on her balcony, lamenting her fate.
She had a crush on Romeo, an arrogant tom cat first rate.
The rest of us could not understand why she spent days,
Pining away on the balcony, whining in all kinds of ways.
She is never happy or satisfied, the other female cats said.
One was angry with her for sure, for her husband was dead.
She does not know real misery, the widow woman mewed.
A fight broke out in the alley, a mob mentality, one got lewd.
Juliet Cat did not hear them, she was in a world of her making.
Until the balcony began quivering, and violently shaking.
It’s a tornado! Everyone ran inside and put hurricane shutters up.
Juliet Cat was the first one to skedaddle with a friendly pup.
Things were touch and go, but some were ready to celebrate,
However, the roof came down and crushed Juliet; a horrible fate.
I came to live in the old house,
when I was ten;
I was led to an attic room;
it seemed a cozy den.
Quickly, the wood door was slammed shut,
it was solid and locked;
It was a small space and dirty;
and the window was blocked.
Time passed, minutes, days, months and years,
I was left clothes and food;
In the mornings it had been placed;
even a cat that mewed.
I pleaded and screamed and asked why,
but no one spoke to me;
I liked the girl in the mirror;
she said, "wish we had tea."
And I wished for a pen to write,
and smooth, white paper;
Then, one day the door swung open,
insane, I did not stir.
__________________________
September 11, 2017
Poulter's Measure Rhyme/ Trapped in an Attic Room
Copyright Protected, ID 938902
Written for the contest, Stuck
sponsor, Sara Kendrick
Third Place
A little while ago on my morning walk I wondered, how can this be?
when a black cat came out of the shadows to say hello…to me
Without any inhibitions…in the middle of the street
she ran up and when I looked down…she was purring at my feet.
I bent down to scratch her back…”Hello little kitty." I said.
She mewed her own Good Morning…then let me scratch her head.
We chatted for a while then when there was nothing more to say
I stood up, said “Goodbye…and we both went on our way.
The next morning on my walk I again wondered how can this be
when up ahead…there in the street…that same cat was waiting for me.
This is something I didn’t expect…I could have never foreseen
but when I finally reached her…we followed the day before’s routine.
And now most days there is this black cat…sitting in the middle of the street
patiently waiting for me…and who I always stop to greet.
Most of the cats I see on my walk…when I say ‘hi’ or have a good day
usually act as if I wasn’t there…or deliberately look away.
And I was brought up believing my day would be filled with wrath
if at any time during that day…a black cat crossed my path.
But this little cat has taught me different…though I still don’t know her name
she’s taught me not to judge…for not all cats are the same.
And since I’ve had good luck since meeting her I think it would be fair
not to judge another cat…by the color of their hair.
I think about this at least once a day…when I bend down to greet
and scratch the head and chat a while…with my black cat in the street.
It started with the beeping of my clock.
Sometimes I want to bash that irksome thing.
My dog barked for his food and then a walk.
While walking him, my cell phone went brring brrring.
I passed some school girls chattering away
like chirping birds. Back to my house I went
to feed the cats that mewed without delay.
I grunted next. My bills had gone unsent.
To mail them I zoomed off inside my car.
It rained. Outside my car I had to slosh
through puddles with no boots on. Great! Har har.
I splashed back to my car, and oh my gosh,
someone had whammed into my new car’s door.
I nearly bawled. Not even noon – what more?
-honestly...I have no clue why...-
As I began to rest in my fickle dream
Suddenly I was stirred from my sleep
I was greeted by many a whisker
And petulant snores from my sister
The cat mewed ferociously and purred
For there on the other side of the window—was a bird!
It chirped like a wobbly siren—the ass!
And I swear by my bosom it was pecking the glass
Suddenly, I sprang up in alarm
I swear my bosom was gone!
The cat then motioned at the feathered brat
For her bright breasts seemed extra fat
Of course it wouldn’t have been that
But I couldn’t just blame the cat!
I opened the window only a crack
And asked very kindly, “May I have my breasts back?”
Such pride she attained from my bosom
Yet why? –how would she use ‘em!?
The mockingbird merely turned a goodbye
But the stolen twins were too heavy to fly!
She plopped to the ground and squawked
I would have laughed, but I was shocked!
The cat scratched at the window and with her eyes
Said, “Prithee, take your breasts—she’s mine!”
Before I could think I had fallen to the ground
To a booming, most terrible sound!
My eyes then opened to a cat on my head
As the booming sound continued from my sister’s bed