A limerick

There once was a kitten named Rosie
Who thought that a rat was a posy 

She snuffled and sniffed

And became rather miffed

When the posy bit Rosie on the nosey

Sunrise and Sunset

cat-sunset

You are of the moment
The alpha and the omega
Sunrise and sunset
First joy of the morning
Last comfort of eventide
When night falls
You become a shadow
Cast by the moon
Just another dream
Before a new day dawns

Cat and Mouse

Where does he go at night?
I lie awake, questioning
his whereabouts, my sanity.

The bed feels cold without him.
I wrap the duvet about me,
shivering, awaiting his return.

I hear the door close gently.
He sneaks, sure-footed, into my room.
Blood stench fills the air.

I tense, feel the mattress dip.
Tight-lipped, I say nothing, anxious.
Is he going to gift me his wares?

I feel him against my thigh.
‘Not tonight’, I beg of him, quietly.
He hears my silent plea, moves away.

I turn to where he lay, eyes wide.
“CAT!” I cry in disgust.
“Take your half-eaten mouse with you!”

Where does he go at night?

Manxu

Here we have a poem in the Manxu form, which is an ode to cats with a 2, 2, 1, 6, 1, 4, ! syllable count (ending with “!”).

2 – ears
2 – eyes
1 – nose
6 – whiskers
1 – mouth
4 – legs
! – no tail

Oh cat!
You spit
at
those who dare to mock you
for
having no tail
!

Do you think it’ll catch on?

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to any real poetry, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Featured image: A Manx cat

I didn’t lick the cat!

I licked it, so it’s mine.
Even though I dropped it on the floor.
I picked it up within three seconds.
That’s the rule, isn’t it?
But I’d licked it and it was sticky
and there was cat hair on the carpet.
It might be mine,
but I’m not licking it again.

Inspired by absolutely nothing. I don’t have a carpet. I have nothing to lick. I do have a cat. I’m not licking the cat.

Rosie, the rat catcher. I didn't lick her.
Rosie, the rat catcher. I didn’t lick her.

The Race for Nonsense

‘Twas twirly on a Sunday morn
Nonsensical nonsenses was born
In triolettuce of eight, six, four
‘Bout cats and mats and something more
My gnat-sized brain was addled, yet
My fingers flew and I was set
To pen this verse in competition
They writing of their own volition
The race is on to post it first
Yet copy, paste is proving cursed
My tablet seems to work much better
Than his, he’s struggling with his letters
It looks like I might win this game
Which will be such a crying shame
For his was typpened so much faster
Now it looks like he’ll be laster

.

To see the masterpiece from which this poem was spawned, see here
NONSENSE POETRY IN 8-6-4

Fell Down Silver Mine

I fell down outside the Silver Mine
whilst window shopping.
It wasn’t the best place to leave a big rock –
between the window and the door –
quite shocking!
There’s no major harm; no cause for alarm,
just a bruised knee and a few broken nails,
and, for them, a lack of sales.
Because, whilst tempted to enter to buy a shiny cat,
my fumbling tumble put paid to that.
But, it’s early days of this holiday,
and the shop is quite close by.
Perhaps if I focus on spatial awareness,
I can give it another try… tomorrow

Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty

Rosie-Woo
Rosie-Woo

The sound of a sleeping kitten
softly purring on your lap
invokes a meditative state
and you relax,
feeling the healing vibrations
resonating through your legs;
abdomen;
stomach;
heart;
neck;
head.
Your eyes feel heavy.
You close them.
“Just for a moment,” you tell yourself,
taking in this wondrous feeling.
The kitten curls into a ball.
You can’t disturb her peace,
but neither can you sleep.
Your legs start to feel heavy… numb.
Time passes.
Nature calls.
Still the cat sleeps on.
You wiggle a little in your comfy chair;
there’s a slight movement –
one furry little leg stretches out.
You’re getting desperate.
“Come on, kitty, wakey wakey”
Purrrrr, purrrrrrr, purrrrrrrr.
A head lifts; emerald eyes squint your way.
You squint back – you know cat-speak.
You raise your hand to stroke her gently;
just a little nudge and she’ll surely give way.
SWIPE!
SCRATCH!
A light trickle of blood.
Another scar to add to the collection.
Such is life.

Passion Killers

Tonight, you’re mine completely
Apart from the puppies and cat
But there’s nought I can do about that
I’d kiss you passionately
But I’ve just seen the dogs lick you on the lips
And no doubt you saw them do the same to me
Just after tea
Don’t worry, it was kinda funny
And I kept my mouth closed
Here comes kitty
She’s just been scratching in her litter
and now she’s on your lap
All good; no mishap
Sweetheart, tonight you’re mine completely
What flavour bubble bath?