Poetry for cats

[ashling]

This is from POETRY FOR CATS: The Definitive Anthology of Distinguished Feline Verse by Henry Beard, author of French for Cats (publisher's infor. and ISBN no. available by request)

My daughter told me that I had to site the source - which I already intended to do, and not just because she told me to over and over and over ....


Sitting by the Fire on a Snowy Evening - by Robert Frost's cat

Whose chair this is by now I know.
He's somewhere in the forest though;
He will not see me sitting here
A place I'm not supposed to go.

He really is a little queer
To leave the fire's cozy cheer
And ride out by the frozen lake
The coldest evening of the year.

To love the snow it takes a flake:
The chill that makes your footpads ache,
The drifts too high to lurk or creep,
The icicles that drip and break.

His chair is comfy, soft and deep.
But I have got an urge to leap,
And mice to catch before I sleep.
And mice to catch before I sleep.

[bertha katzenengel]

1. That is fantastic.

Thank you!

[ashling]

2. more ... From A Cat's Garden of Verses

by Robert Louis Stevenson's cat

The Rain

The rain is raining all around,
It rains on me an you;
I hope the neighbor's dog has drowned,
Or caught a fatal flu.


Mealtime

A mousie squealing in a trap
Woke me from my morning nap.
Wasn't he so very sweet
To tell me it was time to eat?


Whole Duty of Cats

A cat should never kill a mouse
Until he's chased it through the house,
And shown it to another kitten,
Before its little head id bitten.


Catty Thought

The world is so full
of such edible things,
I'll nibble their feet,
and I'll chew off their wings.


(For source, please see original post - there Abby, I hope you are happy!)

[GoddessOfGuinness]

3. Cat Haiku

You never feed me.
Perhaps I'll sleep on your face.
That will show you.

You must scratch me there!
Yes, above my tail! Behold,
elevator butt.

I need a new toy.
Tail of black dog keeps good time.
Pounce! good dog! good dog!

The rule for today.
Touch my tail, I shred your hand.
New rule tomorrow.

In deep sleep hear sound
Cat vomit hairball somewhere.
Will find in morning.

Grace personified
I leap into the window
I meant to do that

Blur of motion, then-
Silence, me, a paper bag
What is so funny?

The mighty hunter
Returns with gifts of plump birds
Your foot just squashed one.

You're always typing
Well, let's see you ignore my
Sitting on your hands.

My small cardboard box
You cannot see me if I
Can just hide my head.

Terrible battle
I fought for hours. Come and see!
What's a "term paper"?

Kitty likes plastic
Confuses for litter box
Don't leave tarp around

Small brave carnivores
Kill pine cones and mosquitoes
Fear vacuum cleaner

Want to trim my claws
Don't even think about it!
My yelps will wake the dead

I want to be close
To you. Can I fit my head
inside your armpit?

Wanna go outside.
Oh, no! Help! I got outside!
Let me back inside!

Oh no! Big One
has been trapped by newspaper.
Cat to the rescue!

Humans are so strange.
Mine lies still in the bed, then screams!
My claws aren't that sharp....

Cats meow out of angst
"Thumbs! If only we had thumbs!
We could break so much"

Litter box not there
You must have moved it again
I'll crap in the sink

The Big Ones snore now
Every room is dark and cold
time for "Cup Hockey"

We're almost equals
I purr to show I love you
Want to smell my butt.

[ashling]

4. and then there is Edgar Allen Poe's cat

On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slanting,
I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.
Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,
Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.
"Raven's very tasty," thought I, as I tiptoed o'er the floor,
"There is nothing I like more."

Soft upon the rug I treaded, calm and careful as I headed
Toward the roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.
While the bard and birdie chattered, I made sure that nothing clattered,
Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered, as I crossed the corridor;
For his house is crammed with trinkets, curios and weird decor --
Bric-a-brac and junk galore.

Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered,
In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents' worth--
"Nevermore."
While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up,
Then I crouched and quickly leapt up, pouncing on the feathered bore.
Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore --
Only this and not much more.

"Ooooo!" my pickled poet cried out, "Pussycat, it's time I dried out!
Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird befor;
How I've wallowed in self-pity, while my gallant, valiant kitty
Put an end to that damned ditty" -- then I heard him start to snore,
Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhot,
Jumped -- and smashed it on the floor.


(Source: OP, Okay !??)

[ashling]

5. Just for the heck of it

kick
:kick: