Mewing Poems | Examples

Epithalamion for the Ark Lovers

There was once a dashing lad 
from the mid-coast of Maine

who courted a comely duchess
from the Westerly. Now, Maine is

two lands off from the Westerly 
which is a province under 

its own sovereign rule, on an Island 
named Rhode, but they rescued

what desperately needed to be loved 
in the other’s marrow, each 

of their own souls being so rare 
and wanting over a great big sea.

The lad, a sailor by making, 
and she, a re-claimer of lost species,
 
returned to their clutch after his 
bucket-driven crossing from Spain, 

--just like in flat world days--

until both were discovered, 
and their home now together 

has become the un-floating Ark 
of the critters---those stripes

of the in-danger and wanting
--of shells, scales, and fur--

all-a -woof and mewing,
plodding and crawling,

scratching in their own
--singular-- 
language at the door, 

all in need 
of a roof.

A Triad of Haiku V

A leaf detaches

From some resplendent, green twig.

All Summer shudders!
-------------------------------------

The wind calling out,

Like a high, mewing buzzard,       

Behind nearby hills.   
-------------------------------------

Winter came around...

Slipping in beneath the door

As I lit the fire.
-------------------------------------

SENSING and ENJOYING

I am watching birds ,
      flowers in garden,
     field with glossy grass.
     grasshopper hopping.
     kids playing on ground.


    I am feeling
    the gentle breeze,
   warmth of morn -Sun,
   freshness of dawn.
 
 
   Kids giggling.
   Cat mewing
    Birds chirping 


   wild blooms 
   Jasmine


     Tea

EVOLUTIONARY UPDATE

Oh, when did evolution end
Or was it just a passing trend
That ran its course and then got worse
Or is it just a fading curse

For monkey’s would deny such kin
That say they are the root of men
For even the most vile Jackals
Ever put their foes in shackles

And yet these homosapiens
Claim they’re where evolution ends
That should there be a fall from grace
There’s nothing that could take their place

They have no clue the cats are waiting
And purring, mewing traps they’re baiting
Indoors, outdoors, all are feral
And “owners” all over a barrel

The fox is sly, the bear a brute
But kitty cats are oh so cute
And dogs, poor fools, will do as told
As long as kitty refills their bowls

Mystic

     Mystic cloudy night
  ~I dreamt about lost sea sounds~
               flight's seagulls mewing

Why Does She Always Have to Cry About it

Sammy’s parents wanted a baby.
He thought it would be a good thing also
until they got a baby.
A wrinkled up old-man-looking screaming wailing baby.
The one they got was a girl, they named it Sheila.
She cried all the time.
At first she sounded like a whimpering mewing baby alley cat.
Her crying got louder, more desperate, and shrill over time
More urgent, more desperate.
People in the grocery store gave them mean looks
that said “Why can’t you keep that thing quiet?”
Sammy wanted them to send it back.
“Babies are never labelled return to sender.”
He was forced to listen to a couple of years of this insane crying.
Why doesn’t she just tell us what she wants?
Why does she always have to CRY about it?
Babies don’t have words yet, his parents told Sammy.
Sammy thought about this for a long time.
When he was a young adult he worked in a daycare center.
He taught the babies sign languages for milk, eat, sleepy, and bored.
After the babies learned the sign, they were less frustrated.
Thus, there was less crying, and the workers had less frazzled nerves.

Something Else

Under the hedgerow,
nothing will fall apart, nor hold,
until a first milky dribble
is squeezed into the
mewing mouths of the newborn.

Small forms roll in their dim pelts,
nightjars swoop from branch to tree trunk,
bat calls return to receiving ears.

A child's dream grows a face-masked cloud,
small eyes appear behind a mattress of foliage,
clairvoyant glimmers of the yet to come.

Every dawn is a stranger, a nakedly visual light.
Gaps in the shrubbery coalesce,
to reveal a small industrial unit,
cogs and wheels run deep,
as they turn something into something.

Further back,
the goose-necked end of a small pond
curls morning mist into unworldly shapes,
will-of-the-whisps,
that drift in and out of an opening sky.

A yearning awakens,
one warm breath starts a dew-cold engine,
soon the seen, will be accelerating,
emerging once more into something else.

Bad Day Moon

Cats go out then cry to come in.
A runt-end of shade wilts.
We feel the pull of a Lunar tide,
sense the off-center mewing,
of a dissonant aria.

Trembling dogs hide their body-bones.
The air is strained through fisheyes.
A clammy light gnaws,
while white-faced mice scurry
on twilit paws.

There will be an end of sorts,
a draining away. First, there must be,
this ailing after-glow,
an infiltration that wounds
the tender skin of reason.

A mad moon had broken lose,
from the cellular jails of fitful thoughts.
A dead Siren rampaged,
in a cold rage of silence.

The day may heal, a new dawn,
defeating all spectral trails,
all night-walking fears.

Until then we must watch
a pall-bearing dusk
depart on crumbling stilts,
observe from a dwindling distance,

a naked crone wanes,
turns in ever narrowing circles,
as she seeks for her life.

Ignorance

seeking rescue
prayers mewing
soul’s dew is stained

Aunt Martas Cat House

Aunt Marta’s instructions blew out the window
Seconds before I got to her home in Glasgow.
I knew I was on the right block, but which one was she?
I heard a tiny mewing kitten, who tried to lead me.

Who is your mistress? Could it be my Aunt? I asked.
Scooped up wiggling scared kitten, no dauntless task.
Aunt Marta came to greet me at her gate with a cat.
I was worried, she said, wondering where you were at.

I handed the kitten over and began to sneeze.
Maybe it is all the flowers, pollen on the breeze.
It’s probably the cats, she said leading me into the house.
With hundreds of kittens, I doubt that she has a mouse.

kitty cat Christmas Tree

Mewing and meowing commenced right away
The second they built a kitty cat Christmas tree that day
Yawning and sleeping happened in every kitty slot.
Some of them fell off their risers, it happened a lot.

A Brief Shaggy Dog Story that actually Ends

   A shaggy dog espied a graceful cat
     She arched her back, he fell flat
   on his jowls, she pivoted - nose up
     His paws akimbo, Shaggy arfed
         Wait, dear cat, I can explain that  

   But Graceful didn't miss a stride
     After all, she had her pride
   Who needs a mangy mutt who falls
     she thought, a dame like me must be bought

   Now Shaggy may be clumsy, but he's not deaf
     He heard Graceful mewing under her breath
   She loves me sure, Shaggy felt
     His tender heart, her icy exterior would melt

   So Shaggy scrambled after her, closing in fast
     When he drew close, she turned around at last
   It was then that he saw Graceful's face up close
     "Adios," he cried
                       ~ Her whiskers were caespitose

Stash

I am drugged by music
the horsehair bow,
key and peddle
the blow and boom'
of windpipes and drums.

Unfinished symphonies
leave me mewing like a wounded gull
forever beached on that last note.
My love is dressed in crinoline
in the 18th variation of a rhapsody,

It is my joy and pain
to be a member of a ghost orchestra,
to sit on a hard chair as a soft shadow
listening to the fading smoke
of hollowed-out wood

and I am drugged.
unplugged from myself.
for as long as it takes
for that musical blend of joy and pain
in its endless moment,
as it walks through singing bones.

Mewing Cat

mewing cat's plea
fish soup's aroma lingers
warmth in harmony

Dragon Watches Herd Girl

Dragon keeps his eye on herder girl who cares for the sheep
He pretends to slumber, but he is in no way asleep.
The sheep are heading up the mountain, it is ungodly steep
He hears the little ones making mewing sounds; one makes a bleep

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