Long Mews Poems
Long Mews Poems. Below are the most popular long Mews by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mews poems by poem length and keyword.
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!
My kitten is a poet,
I know this by his mews
And I know purrr his
Snuggling
He's stating his sweet views
That life is good
And that
Is that
Pure poetry
This kitty-cat
Blessin' my heart
Baby feline
His mews, my muse
My poem defined
Some kings are borne in magnificent coaches gilt with gold.
With great pomp and blare of trumpet, their procession is foretold.
Others are borne on ornate sedan chairs, clad in purple gowns.
Upon their royal brows rest elaborate, jeweled crowns.
Christ forsook such trumpery for His triumphal celebration.
Instead, He chose a lowly donkey as His means of transportation.
Thro' the streets of Jerusalem the Man of Galilee was borne;
He of royal lineage, destined to wear a crown of thorn.
Exultant crowds spread cloaks and palm fronds along the mews,
Shouting "Hosanna In the Highest!", to the herald of Good News!
This festive occasion was revealed by the Prophet Zecharia,
Who foretold that a humble donkey would bear the great Messiah!
Tho' The Prince of Peace could've sat upon a prancing Arabian steed,
Or a lavishly bespangled camel of exceptional breed,
This modest yet majestic preacher, teacher, physician,
Chose to ride a simple donkey to fulfill His earthly mission.
Tho' the Savior of humankind was in a lowly stable born,
And suffered a lifetime of ridicule, hate and scorn,
He endured trials and temptations but overcame such things,
And arose victorious o'er the grave to become the King of Kings!
Entry for Anthony Slausen's "Jesus" Contest
Loneliness comes creeping
always the same way.
Creeping, creeping
making shadows,
darkening my day.
Days turn into nights.
Nights turn back to days.
I don’t dine -
Just pour more wine;
keep inside this haze.
Wish my love gave a damn.
He's as bad as that
loneliness that’s creeping
like some crazy
prowling cat.
Loneliness prowling round.
Guess I’ll make it mine.
Crazy cat mews the blues
I just pour
more wine.
May 16, 2023 for Robert James Liguori's 'Joe Bonamassa Inspiration 4' Poetry Contest
Inspired by Black Coffee song with joe Bonamassa and Beth Hart together
A cat sits on a chair
and hovers over me
as I lie in bed.
It’s December 31st
as a soft rain falls.
As I get up
I ask myself
if this is
an ending or beginning.
I’ve been back in town
full-time for five years
but embrace memories
of highways travelled
throughout the Midwest
when I worked
for road construction crews.
Now I’m left with my poems.
Bare limbs in the yard next door
wave and dance in the wind
beneath the cover of grey skies.
The cat brushes against me and mews
and I know it wants to be fed.
I take it downstairs
and fill a dish on the floor.
It eats in the kitchen while I call
my older cousin and we peer
into our younger lives.
When asked I said
if given the chance
I say
I’d live my life again.
Outside the window
rain has turned to snow
and the dormant yard
bears the change of weather.
Meowlu the cat, with fur so black,
Sings meow-meow upon his back;
His purrs are soft, his whiskers long,
He loves to hum his favourite song.
At night he wakes and stretches wide,
Then to the window, he glides;
With tiptoe paws and eyes so bright,
Meowlu steps out into the night.
The moon shines down on the grass so green,
Where Meowlu starts his nightly scene;
He mews a tune for all to hear,
The nighttime creatures gather near.
With crickets chirping, frogs in tune,
Meowlu conducts beneath the moon;
Till dawn arrives, he takes a bow,
Then home he trots, with one last meow.
An old man, out of nowhere,
Brought waste paper to me and begged me to buy it.
"What is the waste paper?"
How on earth could I answer him?
While all kinds of steaks and ice creams are by my side,
Yet I, too, know the sweat embedded in that waste paper;
I know I cannot escape this reality.
I guess it must be the sweat of many lives,
The scent of earth, and a wound where dreams are cut,
Or perhaps it is an unnamed blanket of my own.
The waste paper discarded by someone—
It is my dream, my hope, and my warmth in the deep winter chill.
A runaway cat, discovering me, who was once its butler,
Mews at me:
"Why are you there? Leaving your warm room far behind,
Why are you here with me?"
The waste paper is the cat’s home itself;
Perhaps I have stolen its shelter for the night,
As I gently pitch my tent alongside the paper.
To the cat that was once my family, this might be a betrayal,
Or perhaps, the butler's proud, ultra-luxury hotel.
The cat and I were born the same,
Under the same care of parents, writhing without knowing,
We are all the same.
The crying of the cat,
The silent, breathless sound of its paw pads,
To me, they all look like the same human being.
light leaks
over craggy red
peaks
and seeps
through the
single glazed
a slinky
silhouette
spins a
pirouette
mews
stretches
and rubs
against the
the window pane
gooey foggy
anesthesia clings
like dew
to a day that's
too new
to unbundle
from down under
this comforter
little bug
sneaks in
for a hug
her blanky
dragging
her diaper
sagging
crawls onto
my chest
and there
she rests
soft cheek
on my shoulder
gently I hold her
so still
I feel
her little lungs breathing
her little heart beating
against mine
snuggled up
in the dawn
never live
too long
to not measure
life's treasure
in moments
like these
not to say
thank you
and
more
many
more
please
Poetry will not keep you warm
Not like a cat nestled between legs
But, it hunts down manic thoughts
Gnashes the static till the mind gives
Chases a thought till claws are bloody
Keeps you drenched in sweat
Yes, she mews for attention
Till its cries grate every nerve
Till I feed it words & want
Poetry keeps me squirming
Caught in a net skimming a deluge
Waiting for words to be hauled
The big catch ever escaping
Keeps me checking the line
Insisting I jump into cold waters
Foolishly like Ahab chasing a tail
Sadness is my white whale
Mad with promises holey
Poetry is a leaky bucket
Catching the rain of words
Within depression's storm
Coming like a cat with a pail
Impossible and torrential
Ensnaring me for an hour
Keeps me back for seconds
Promising an easy catch
Cold and slippery
A herald announced the joyous news that a king was to visit my hometown!
Jerusalem was abuzz anticipating seeing a royal king wearing a regal crown!
I could visualize his majesty arriving on a prancing Arabian steed,
Or being borne upon a lavishly bespangled camel of exceptional breed!
I'd also heard that kings were borne in magnificent coaches gilt with gold,
And that with great pomp and blaring trumpets their procession was foretold!
This I wanted to see so I joined the milling throng and got a curbside seat.
Thousands of jubilant celebrants lined both sides of the city's dusty street!
"Here He comes!" shouted the crowd! "Hosanna In The Highest!" they cried!
I strained my neck hoping to see a king clad in purple robes, a nations pride!
The crowd spread their cloaks and waved palm fronds along the mews.
Shouting "Hosanna To Christ The King! The promised Messiah of Good News!"
This king wore a simple gown and rode a donkey for His transportation!
(A prophet, Zecharia, said He'd ride one for this triumphal celebration!)
As he passed I fell to my knees! He looked directly at ME, smiled and waved!
From that moment I became His disciple; straight paths for me He has paved!
The man next to me said, "This Man, this King, was born in a stable cave,
And that of His power to heal the ailing, blind and lame He freely gave!"
Unlike earthly kings He even promised eternal life for a sinner like me!
From this day forward I will forever follow that Good Man from Galilee!
Robert L. Hinshaw