I am not a rat
I have never been a rat
I will never be a rat
A rat is a rat
I am an opossum
A good animal to have around
I eat menacing pests
Never catching those nasty diseases
So, if you see me just say ‘hi’
And if you can just let me walk on by
I just hope that you remember
I am not a rat
I have never been a rat
I will never be a rat
A rat is a rat
I am an opossum
And I am your friend
© Poem – XVII/VI/MMXXV
LRET
opossum lies in the street today
I do not approach it right away
like to keep myself safe said Fred
these creatures often just play dead
Wife said get a shovel and bury it!
Fred did not want to, but she had a fit
When he got back the opossum was long gone
This was a bit of a relief to Fred, he told only one.
They came to the porch every night
To find their round bowls with delight
The group- very sweet
Would show up to eat
And watching them was quite a sight!
They were feral cats, wild and free
And they got along- must agree
All colors and breeds
Met filling their needs
But- one night, so funny to see
A strange-looking form- a surprise!
With a pointed nose, beady eyes
And long, hairless tail
We knew, without fail-
Opossum joined them- such a prize!
There, munching beside a feline
Where sharing a bowl was just fine
Opossum fit in
And to our chagrin
Most every night- came back to dine!
Opossums and feral cats know
Comradery's not just a show.
Thin feet or fat paws
They're one, just because
Survival they will not forgo!
The Las Vegas Opossum Stew Ranch was an instant hit.
“You have to try it! It is super! It makes you feel fit!”
I ran to have a bowl, super excited to imbibe in the stuff.
The line was longer every day, people could not get enough
I spent hours in line, where people wanted to chat.
At last I reached the door, standing on their welcome mat.
Sorry, we are out today, the chef said, locking the door.
I never got to taste one spoonful of opossum stew, and this is no lore.
It is 4:55 a.m.
The dogs are going crazy.
I turn and see a wet opossum lying two feet away.
Is the opossum dead?
Should I pick it up?
Not by the tail unless I wear gloves.
Maybe I could scoop it up in my shovel
What if Buddy our dog brings this carcass
Into our house through the dog door?
He has enormous teeth that chew up everything.
But what if this creature is not dead?
What if it is playing opossum?
I call the dogs into the house
Staring at the garbage can, putting gloves on
Gearing up
Hoping he will not bite me
Hoping he is not playing opossum
The dead opossum jumps up and runs off
Marvie tried not to have a big head, but after all.
She was elegant, pretty, a living absolute doll.
Her mother told her to stop being so smug.
She sat down and ate a sweet tasting lady bug.
She is dainty and darling an old bachelor said.
He was a opossum with finesse, his name Charming Ed.
I think you would be a marvelous couple her daddy said.
When Marvie saw him, she threw herself down and played dead.
peace-keeping opossum with such an ugly pink tail
rids your yard of mice and snakes
a terrific mommy, she keeps her brood close
often is not dead so do not get too close too fast
tennessee opossum
little critter on a tree
fluffy yellow tail
The raccoon was brazen
Bold, devilishly handsome
I fell in love quickly
I know. Raccoons are no good for opossums
But the heart wants who the heart wants.
We met on a warm day
in the throes of summer
He was eating cat food when I arrived
to the consternation of a gray tabby
who was sitting on a prissy
large-flowered puffy porch chair.
“spoiled princess”, the gentleman said
with his large bandit eyes.
“brat probably” I replied, demurely, flicking my pink tail.
He stopped eating and looked at me for second.
Wandered off porch, giving me the rest of the food.
Lights began flickering on and off.
I thought it was lightning at first
Then a large WallyGeemer tromped out.
He was in his underwear.
I flipped to my side, pretending dead.
“EDNA!” the WallyGeemer screamed.
I had heard this voice before.
It is a voice of fear.
He went back inside and slammed the door.
I was halfway back to the marsh when the
generous Raccoon stepped into my path.
“Would you um like to um…”
“Of course,” I said.
And we did.
I once had a Manx who constantly primped; her white underbelly never sported one piece of grass or dirt. She kept so clean and fluffy that we’d no idea he’d had her backside chewed up for three days, by an Opossum!
In altercation
My cat became Opossum
Chow wearing teeth marks.
The opossum is eating the cat food on the porch this morning.
I feel joy, because she has not been here for ages.
I had seen an opossum carcass on the road, and I felt badly.
Thinking it was “our” opossum.
It is not like she is a pet,
But she has visited here plenty, eating the cat food.
Sometimes next to the cat.
Weirdly enough the cat and the dog
Seem to be in alliance with this
Ugly-tailed vermin.
I researched opossums and
Discovered they are all about family.
Being good moms, and they do not fight
Choosing instead to play opossum
Which means playing dead.
They are good at this.
Maybe the one in the road was playing.
But I doubt it.
Since he no longer had a head.
Nobody plays that well.
The opossum's on porch
Slurping up tasty cat food
Flips over, plays dead
Non, hairy, haven,
The momma possum’s bosom,
Purse pouch vouches safe,
For babies facing drama,
Momma's death by car trauma!
In Honor Of: Chris Aechtner & Contest: Sanctuary
Baby opossums are so well protected in their mother's pouch that when she suffers a fatal
trauma, such as getting hit by a car , the baby possums often remain unharmed.
www.ehow.com/how_2214427_help-orphaned-baby-opossum.html
The Virginia Opossum has
A funny little piggy nose.
She keeps her babies in a pouch,
And climbs with her opposing toes!