Ode to a Cat
You never ask for the spotlight,
yet the second you walk in, the room belongs to you.
You wear your quiet like a favorite sweater,
reminding me that silence can be incredibly comforting.
You only come for a cuddle when it’s your idea—
and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.
?That slow, sleepy blink says everything we need to say,
and your rumbling purr patches up the rough edges of my day.
You brush off an argument with a long, dramatic stretch,
tell me exactly how you feel with a flick of your tail,
and look at the morning as if we conquered the night together.
?You ask for so little—just a warm lap, a sunny spot, and trust.
Sitting here with you, I’ve finally figured out
that love doesn't need to shout to be real.
For all your mysterious ways, my friend,
you didn't just move into my house;
you quietly made yourself right at home in my heart.
What if the dreams come true
In an argumentative way
You never thought they would do
But later, maybe the same day
Or it could be next year, you see
Dreams fall into right mould
Though quite unexpectedly
The opposite meaning unfolds
As if the other side speaks
Things you were afraid to hear
The fulfilment that seemed to be missed
Was never meant to appear
The hopes you considered naïve
Weren’t naïve at all
They gave you a hint when to leave
There’s always a suitable hole
It’s the same feeling, the hopes say
The same dream in its final phase
Grows your garden with roses of May
She is waiting with smile on her face.
MYSTERIOUS thoughts come at my revery
At times they do appear not every
Sometimes those memories are so great
Sometimes those memories are scary bad
Maybe my life only suffers this fate
MEMORIES mysterious or ribaldry
Those that are hateful, need placed in pillory
Hold onto only good thoughts and emotion
Build your esteem up with meditation
Let love of others and self be your potion
In the remote landscapes away from modernity
stand the stone-cold monolithic monuments.
One, the Georgia Guidestones, the American Stonehenge,
and the other, the Neolithic Stonehenge, the British cultural icon.
The stone slabs are roughly cut by primitive tools
and astronomically aligned with the zodiac design.
These are set in an intriguing geometric configuration,
wrapped in controversy, the megaliths incite curiosity.
The stones are systematically arranged, not as walls,
but as questions framed by the blocks of ambiguity,
leaning onto the winds of whispering mystery,
their shadows stretch longer than human memory.
It’s not yet known if the Stonehenge
marks the ritualistic ancient burial sites
or the prehistoric religious healing place,
erected as the conceptual symbol of peace.
The nameless builders of these structures are history now,
but the stones remain as the perplexing patterns
of their thoughts, now the sentinels of silence,
and the enigmatic ancient thingamajig of riddle.
TOUCH OF THE MYSTERIOUS-:-
absurdly
anonymous
attributes
realistically
rearranged
as a YARDSTICK
choosing
effect
purely
implicitly
worked
in FASCINATING OPTICAL
superficial
placed
pleasured
iconic
afterthought
Lady in white, lady in blue,
Lingering late by the ocean’s hue.
Fishes below like living stars,
Drifting softly in silver spars.
Sharks glide by, a silent tension,
A fleeting pulse, a darkened mention.
The sky leans close in mirrored view,
Reflected deep in the endless blue.
she took a gigantic slurp and her eyes crossed like swords
there was no rhyme or intention, she was out of words
what was I trying to make? She asked her logical mind.
I don’t know, but you missed, said her muse, Clementine.
Eager, her black cat and familiar laughed until he hooted.
Her pet owl Felix gave three sneezes and promptly tooted
The witch rolled her eyes skyward and took another tiny sip.
Within seconds a crow’s beak came out of her lip.
Eager could not stop laughing, the owl went practically insane.
One thing you had to admit, life with this witch was never plain.
She was always making some mysterious concoction or another.
Needing advice, she jumped on the cellphone and facetimed her mother.
some never return
lost for centuries and more
embedded in earth
their spirits still seen
sharp wailing cries still heard
coldness in the air
the tunnels still stand
as a lasting reminder
never to forget
Some Kind of Mystery - Nette Onclaud 1-14-26
As a ten year old I dreamt of a huge room with a stone fireplace. Three weeks later I walked into that room. From that time to toady, I still have experiences like this one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mysterious Dream Room
Through gauzy metaphors in tangled dreams
I see a room - a river rock fireplace
An unknown place - a fire unlit
Silvery cobwebs hide definition
As crisp details hide, yet smile
Room with no name - no place on a map
Clutching the arms of reality
In the sunlight I stand in my dream room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The mirror whispers what I already know~
I am the architect of my own throne.
Silence bends around my voice,
a gravity too strong to escape.
Even the stars tilt their axis
when I walk through the door.
History is just an audience
waiting for my soliloquy.
Written: January 14, 2026, for contest Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
**************
In a mysterious trice, I saw her,
A hidden pledge, a cluster of blooms.
In a sea of bright chime and dulcet time,
Studded with shrewd pearls of orchid silk.
Under blue skies, she shines as a raw gem,
Soothing melodies gently ease tired eyes.
Mere vent of the psyche is quite shallow,
Gold nails were embedded in her brows.
Knotted beating hearts slow dance in the night,
In mysterious, enchanting moonlight.
Drawn to the beguiling stars all about,
Obscured by drifting clouds, dance in delight.
Moon stepped from the shadows and advanced her
Noble grace, weaving silver beams and lace
Round Venus, Pluto, Mars, and Jupiter,
Threading them together in her embrace.
On wet walls where warm whispers dwell,
in palace rooms where day dreams swell,
A moonlight gleams on secrets old,
In gilded stairs, the past unfolds.
Who dwelt in the palace erewhile?
Why dwellers left, where they exiled?
The mansion waits, in tranquil grace,
Mystery lies in this lone place.
A man walks in – like Heathcliff from the moor.
Intense and smoldering are his dark eyes .
That gaze of his is the perfect lure
to make you fancy yourself as his prize.
Mysterious man with come hither ways
conquers hearts with his eyes of sable.
Is there any woman for whom he stays?
Resist him, dear, if you are able.
One MYSTERIOUS Chalice
I cannot name what nature hides from sight,
Yet hold its vastness in a shard of light.
The stars pour laws into a mortal cup,
The sea bends depth till thirst is filled, not up.
A bird’s brief hue outspans the thinking eye,
An insect burns what years cannot deny.
Thus all we know is less than what appears—
The MYSTERIOUS fits whole inside our fears.
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: SOME KIND OF MYSTERY
Date: 9 February 2026
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