Owner gone, water bowl has spilled, and my anger is about to burst.
I won't die, I thought to myself in the morning, not concerned at first.
I accidentally slipped in that water, and my fur is thick and feels icky.
I am wet and mad and mean and disappointed and feeling sticky.
But licking water off my pretty fur is not going to satisfy me very long.
Dog offered to share her water bowl, but drinking after dogs is wrong!
So here I sit, in the crappiest of moods, expecting the worst actually.
I know Owner usually comes home but this is what I see, so factually.
Dog is lazy beast, passing gas so badly it makes this puss want to gag.
I decide to stuff something in his mouth, maybe a mildewing dish rag.
Hey! The sink’s faucet is dripping. I can hear it. Drip. Drip. Drip.
I’m not supposed to be on the counter, but this is a necessary trip.
I have to stretch my elongated pink tongue to get a little taste of H2O.
What else can a dying cat do? I stretch and get water on my nose.
My tongue snakes out mightily. I get a little taste, ah, refreshing drink.
A voice comes into my ears quickly. ”What are you doing in my SINK?”
Categories:
mildewing, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form: Rhyme
Come home with us, the bar fly girls implored.
I do not want to be an imposition, I said.
But I was having a terrific time with them,
So I finally wandered to their apartment in the city.
It was too late to wake my folks, and I did not want to drive.
So it seemed like a great idea at two-twenty-two a.m.
There were other women there; too many to mention.
On couches, the floor, under the furniture.
I know because after finding three deeply snoring female
in the only bedroom with an unlocked door,
I looked under this bed and found two more women.
Flatulence was happening all over this apartment.
A male locker room smelled cleaner than this place.
Desperate, I found a bathtub, but alas, one of the girls
had beat me to it. “Sorry she said.” I think she had found the
last pillow too. In desperation, I fought a stranger over the mildewing
clothes pile in the laundry room. In our stupor, we finally agreed to share.
I took a couple of old towels, and rolled them under my head.
In the morning I knew why she looked familiar.
She was actually my reflection in a mirror.
Categories:
mildewing, humorous,
Form: Prose Poetry
The pitter patter of a doleful rain doth resound
Satiatiating solace and inner peace are drowned
Guttural drips seep into my porous, emotive ground
Brackish hope drains through my bleached mound
Saturated soul shutters as the eroding waves continually pound
For jaundiced psche no awning can be found
Sorrowful torrents spin my head round and round
Moldy dreams my mildewing conscience doth surround
A dry, sheltered haven for my sanity cannot found
Streams of misery o'er my breeched levee bound
Tides of foam from my frothy mouth redound
Thunderous tremors my nerves hound
Lightening flashbacks my wits astound
Cold winds of oppression my woe doth compound
Reams of recycled heartaches wash up all around
The gurgling bilge my remaining light doth impound
Categories:
mildewing, depression
Form: Rhyme
Twas the night after Christmas
Alone with my tinder, ex-spouse
Holed up with this fumigating grouse
Trite presents with her I did douse
Wrapped with old newspaper that she did delouse
With boiling anger she did fumble then browse
From recycled boxes pulled a dingy sweater and moldy blouse
Fueled by spite she began to spew and touse
When to her glee, she my present did espouse
An unwrapped cask of cheap wine, she did uprouse
She intimated that I could now intox and bouse
While she with a better man did carouse
After a few drinks, the blanched holly and mildewing mistletoe did
arouse
A tender feeling for that renovated louse
Categories:
mildewing, funny
Form: Rhyme