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.
The event horizon of past
melts with the extant in contrast.
Scenes recalled in vivid hues
meandering in mind’s mews;
significance rearranged
and the sequences now changed.
The event horizon of past
melts with the extant in contrast.
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.
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
Oh... I'm Evelyn the seagull
eating rubbish, squawking down the sea.
Oh... I'm invisible and a detested bird flying around.
Not admired by anyone, but privileged I feel flying next to the ocean I love.
Oh....unforgettable mornings with my "mews",
my lovely or hated music to be listened to.
Up and down, just flying above sometimes,
but miserable when you push me down.
Oh... I'm a hated bird all the time.
I'm just feel loved when you meet me next to the coast.
Oh.... then I know what it means to be loved.
The only time you say: "I'm happy to see the seagulls because we are home". Then, I feel that I was born
for a reason.
Baby cat with happy meows, gentle mews and splashy spots
We love your happiness for you remind us of our baby tots
When we see you, we do not think of Halloween, we think of glee.
When you decide to teach how to be joyful lessons, please think of me.
beaming globe of light
mews a mating call
on a bended knee
universe conspires
the ocean consents
love pervades the air
3
I got a smart phone
And bought some Smart food
Smart razor, smart comb
Got my wife a smart boob
Whenever it’s squeezed
Coz we’re in the mood
Ten minutes later
The coffee’s fresh brewed
I have smart TVs
Plus two smart RVs
Smart this, and smart that
Dumb dog, but smart cat
When it mews and purrs
And is in my way
I see cat food ads
Nearly every day
I bought a smart car
And a smarter truck
That brings me new things
Though it calls me Chuck
I found a smart shelf
At the local dump
That displays smart stuff
And a bobble-head Trump
But to cap it off
In my world of smart
I purchased a spanking
New snazzy Smart-Fart
That can change odors
From unpleasant eww
To either a lemon
Or citrusy stew
It can switch noises
To downplay my crime
As long as I’m able
To change it on time
A Smart-Fart is handy
For cutting through line
And can’t be detected
By a trained canine
If you’ve grown tired
Of the old rotten
A Smart-Fart will make
Smelly days forgotten
So if you want one
Put it in your cart
The next time you’re at
An online Fart Mart
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
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
In the dead half of night, when the dark is too still,
The Sacred Meow Society convenes to court thrill,
A council of cats, with eyes all ablaze,
With ancient importance through worlds they liaise.
They gather in secret, beneath high moon's light,
Muted meowing their own regal rite,
Discussing the mysteries of yarn and of death,
And the ways of the world, and new cures for fish breath.
With flicks of their whiskers and fur shining bright,
They purr of appeasements and secrets at night,
And though their language we cannot speak,
Their power and presence we constantly seek.
For this feline committee is more than just cats,
It's a connection to something, that goes beyond that,
A reminder of mystery, it's woven in life,
That enigmas and horrors exist next to strife.
Keep your ears open along with your eyes,
For ominous mews from which fright fills the sky,
And know that the cats, who gather in peace,
Are a reminder of darkness, that never does cease.
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
They sit upon their thrones, our feline friends-
aloof at times; to interact depends
on how they feel and what excites their mood
to offer mews- or simply stare and brood.
They are so regal with demanding ways-
yet come to rule our hearts with their displays.
And once we have their trust, expect a change;
no better loving pet can we arrange.
More full meows- more twirls around our feet-
jumping on laps with purrs, so soft and sweet.
Staring with eyes that somehow seem to know-
are we okay? Do signs of sadness show?
So cozy at our feet, at night in bed,
curled like a ball or stretched from tail to head.
A friend for life- this love goes far beyond;
our gentle cats create a lasting bond.
And yet, their royalty remains intact;
when more than one, there is a feline pact.
A hierarchy's formed by one that rules-
instilled from jungle days survival tools-
evolved into a huge variety-
famed as "Sacred Meow Society".
London collapses
trains, planes, and automobiles
trapped and flash-frozen emplace
Christmas lights still bright
If one ventured through the night
ghost carolers in the mews
I am unpacking each meow.
Because each of your meows was unique.
And now I am passionate about translating you.
When you were boisterous.
And now I am honoring your last mews.
When you sounded like a kitten again.
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