Purrfect pussy poems...Our other entries
CatMeeiaaawww,
Her door is opened,
Cat saunters in
Purring her thanks.
With arched back,
Straight up tail,
The leg rubbing
Ritual begins
Breakfast is prepared
The offering is set
Before the queen
Who eyes it from a distance,
Tiptoes over, sniffs, tastes a morsel
To please us.
Turns away and pads silently into the living room.
Following soon after
Find my favourite chair already occupied
By sleeping cat.
Alice Hutton, Kincardineshire
My People
(cats point of view)
I shout louder,
I know they're in
Ah, my door opens and not before time
Purring, I arch my back
And rub against their legs,
They like that.
Here comes breakfast,
I ought to inspect it as usual
Sometimes they serve a tasty dish
I'm sure they try
Now I must eat a little,
Just to please them.
But, I'm full of mouse
I do need a rest
And if I look sharp
I'll get the comfy bed by the fire
For the rest of the day,
Before she bags it!
Alice Hutton, Kincardineshire
Grandmas Cat
My gran has a cat who's getting fat
In fact he's never been thin
He doesn't eat rabbit but has a habit
Of eating anything out of a bin
He doesn't like fish but give him a fish
Or bread with butter and jam
He'll eat with glee wash it down with tea
Then turn up his nose at ham
His coat is like silk he doesn't like milk
Preferring a half of bitter
And he's partial to stout if he goes out
To the pub down by the river
A peculiar cat but having said that
He doesn't hunt birds or mice
And to Gran's delight one Saturday night
He dragged in curry and rice
The very same night Gran had a fight
With Granfer who stormed to the pub
And he thought she was nice offering
Curry and rice when he came home
Looking for grub
Since that night Granfer never gets tight
He suffered a terrible pain
He said 'twas the beer' that made him feel queer
And he won't do that again
So Puss Ives out his day with his peculiar ways
And Granny loves him to bits
He speaks to her with his special purr
In shinny black coat and white mits
Ann Coward Sale
Henry – The Winter Cat
Days begin with frosty gleam
Often dark, sun unseen.
From behind my window pane
I view my world with cold disdain.
I get the call from far away
To go and join them in their play.
To venture out is not my way
Perhaps I will go some other day.
Cosy and warm in my fleecy bed
Dreams of sunny days going around my head.
Happy to stay away from cold
Dreaming of adventures yet untold.
Anna Catherine Hamilton, Stevenage
Santa
Purring and lashing her tail all at once,
a cat divided. I don't think she's angry,
lying on top of that comfy washing basket
in the bathroom with the heat on for the orchids
is just too much pleasure for purring alone.
The name reflects her arrival,
something to do with a chimney
plus they thought she was a boy.
She doesn't have the Egyptian line,
sitting upright she's a generous pear.
I've never seen a coat like hers,
brindled scorch in silky short hair.
The apricot belly is quite private,
you could know her awhile before seeing that.
Tubby? Well, yes but when I scoop her up
I almost toss her she's so light.
Light yet substantial as a dumpling should be,
she makes her presence felt.
Not that she'd turn up with a rat for your breakfast
but there is an element of surprise to Santa,
an innocent resistance to being taken for granted.
Anne Marie Cooper
Bountiful Cats
It was fate that brought them to us her and him,
Not as a childish notion or a naïve whim
Or yet to fill a cavernous space
Or supplement the dearth of animal face,
But rather as a limpid and casual gaze
Through a maze or perhaps a daze
As we had had troubled times of late
And felt that vacuity that predicates
Some action and thereby hangs a tale
Of two abandoned cats in the local mail,
Badger black and white it was said and equable too
Awaits some home of a comfortable hue,
With alacrity, we took steps and soon they were there,
No mention of size, be it said and little we cared
As we be held this monstrous duo
And reached out with our first "hello"
For genial they were and handsome by far,
Delighted we felt and little could mar
This homecoming; immediate their trust,
As they caressed our legs and roundly fussed,.
"Let us stay, we know all about disparate parts,
We will earn your love and fill your hearts,"
A year has passed and Faith and Moses
Our biblical cats cheer us with antics and poses
And I could soliloquise and use semantics
For to some, I would appear a mite pedantic
But the truth is we have two loveable beasts,
To say they are opposites is a jape at least,
For she is a huntress charting the high grasses
Bounding and catching all that passes,
A lazy Lothario is he, as alone he strides
Visiting neighbours , courting strangers and others besides,
But in truth I suppose I've drawn the ace card
For they have transformed me into a bit of a bard,
We are the tenants now and in due deference we've learned
That sharing our life is a bounty that is earned.
Audrey Elizabeth Nedved
THE LEARNER
When Brian first knew Maxi
He didn't understand
But Maxi with intelligence
Quickly took a hand
Feline ways are most exact
It is a natural law
If Brian did not obey them
He soon felt Maxi's claw
A dominant male like Maxi
His territory must defend
And Brian soon observed with pride
That his 'champion' would not bend
Of Maxi's love for Mother
The 'landlord' understood
Whenever he was missing
It was Mother searched the wood
His renown as a hunter
Gave him rabbit on the hoof
If Brian fed him from a tin
Maxi stood aloof
When middle age took over
Maxi lost some fire
But with his usual acumen
Proceeded to retire
And in his more mellow years
His love for Mitzi grew
The minutes they were parted
Became a very few
As it comes to all of us
Came Maxi's time to die
And Brian deep inside him
Really learned to cry
Brian Stevens
THE CAT
She glides sinuously in and out
Silent with a grace natural and unforced
Yellow eyes plead as eloquently as the meanest supplicant
Legs, swinging, legs tanned, bronzed by sun and lotion,
"Here Kitty!, she stops; large face looms, jowls juddering
Purring, pleasing, accepting what?
Delicately chewing, relishing the sausage offered
As if the greatest gift bestowed
Christine Barton
With apologies to Lord Byron
She pads with beauty in the night
Her soft fur scented with the air
Her eyes are huge and shiny bright
As home she comes, without a care
This is her realm, domain, her right
To return for food and love to her lair
Her silky coat outshines the sun
She move with lithe and perfect grace
She makes no ugly shape, not one
And finest whiskers adorn her face
She is my cat, my love, my world – the one
Who lifts my heart to a happy place
Does she love me? I wish I knew
I think she does, it must be so
She speaks to me with every mew
And on my lap she purrs so low
I lavish food and care – her due
And when she leaves I'll miss her so
Christine Powell
Twelfth Night - For Harry, who died 6 January 2015
On January sixth,
You passed away,
Saw me through Christmas
Birthday, New Year,
More magical, than any Magi's present,
All wrapped up, in ebony velvet,
A treasure of paws and whiskers,
And echoing through a darkened hall,
Your funny little eldritch call,
More Fly Man than Wise Man
Astute and cute,
The pleasure you brought me,
Inestimable,
The best of pals, a great wee boy,
On Twelfth Night, I'll remember,
The Gift of Joy.
*Fly = Glasgow slang for crafty or cunning or maybe just streetwise, hence Fly man, you!
Ethel S Goodall, Glasgow
The Cat
Her eyes are open, she's awake
As she rises no sound she'll make.
She stretches slowly, yawning too.
Her dish is empty, this won't do.
She leaves the house – up prick her ears,
In the open she has no fears.
In a moment she spots her prey –
It is a large and juicy jay.
She stalks it, then she lies in wait.
Her eyes and face are full of hate.
She pounces – but is just too slow.
Her eyes and face are full of woe.
But in her hiding place anew
Another cat comes into view.
She sees this cat has had more luck.
He has a tasty, fine young duck.
So she decides she'll have that bird.
And making sure she can't be heard
She creeps up on the other cat.
And hopes this bird will make her fat.
She jumps on him, and finds out that
Although he is a smaller cat
He's very strong – and nearly wins.
His claws stick in her, sharp as pins
Her hackles up, she spits and glares,
Her ears go back, her teeth she bares.
Her back a- temple, tail a-swish.
To scratch his eyes out, that's her wish.
And in the end she wins the prize.
Her rival thinks it might be wise
To go and hunt for something new.
So he departs there with a mew.
At home, upon her owner's lap
She thinks she'll take a welcome nap.
Dreams of the bird which has been slain.
She's mummy's darling once again.
Helen Veall, written when she was 13, who died aged 21 in 1995 after an operation to remove a brain tumour.
Fish for tea?
Whiskers of white,
White collar like a vicar.
Don't be fooled by such innocence ~
He's a cheeky fish nicker!
Cook him salmon or plaice,
Such a nice tasty dish.
Put it down in his bowl ~
No, it's not worth a sniff.
But if you should dare
To buy fish from the chip shop,
He'll sneak up to your plate,
Paws flick out in a quick shot!
Is it the batter,
Or salt and malt vinegar?
That makes him so partial
To a fried fish supper.
But of course we don't give him
The crisp golden casing.
Just the pure flakes of cod
That his taste buds are craving.
Should we lay him a place
At our dining room table?
Knife and fork, napkin laid out,
He would, were he able!
Would he like bread and butter,
Cup of tea and red ketchup?
Our black and white,
By the way, he's called Guinness!
Jane Hart
Eulogy to our Dear Farm Cat
Today we have said a sad farewell,
To a loyal family friend, we all knew so well.
For the past seventeen years, he has been on guard.
For any vermin that dared enter our farm yard.
Through thick and thin and many a crisis
Our much loved Timmy Cat, kept an eye out for mices.
No more do we see the black velvet ball.
Curled up in the straw, to get away from it all.
So today we have said a very sad farewell,
To Dear Timmy Cat, we all knew so well.
Janet Trounson, Cornwall
Snowy
From Nancy to Lynn
From Lynn to Nancy
He goes wherever takes his fancy.
He prances about and dances for Nancy,
But for Lynn
She hardly gets a grin.
Back and forth from their houses he goes,
Seeing where is better to warm up his toes.
Janice Turner, Staffordshire
PENNY LANE
Penny Lane came to me when she was 2 years old.
Fluffy tail and laces tinged with burnished gold.
Thick white fur with eyes of sapphire blue.
She was, in fact, a Birman – the white feet proved it too.
Penny looked just like a princess, everybody said.
She had the sweetest nature and came with me to bed.
One awful day she wandered off – all day I called in vain.
The next day, too, I called her but Penny never came.
I cried, I wept, I was distraught.
I hoped and hoped she would be caught.
She was found, underground,at the local pizza house
Being fed her favourite prawns but never a little mouse.
Then one day, her naughtiest trick, quite without any warning,
She paused for thought and in a flash ran up the chimney's awning.
A short time later, my black sooty cat was bathed and wrapped in a towel.
She hated the bath and was heard to utter a very plaintive miaow.
As a young cat she would leap up trees; squirrels were known to blanch,
Mistook a lamp post for a tree and flew to a nearby branch.
The years passed by and Penny and I loved each other so much..
At 16 years old by the vet we were told it was simply a matter of time.
For six long months we nursed her, this beautiful cat of mine.
The day came when she only looked down and never up at the sky.
We looked at each other and knew it was time for lovely Penny to die.
Now Penny Lane waits in her casket.,fresh flowers and a frame of her lovely face..
I hope she will know when cold winds blow and I close my eyes for ever,
When they lay me to rest in the place I like best, we will always be together.
Joan Grantham, St Ives, Cambs.
Tom's Vengeance
Furtive Tom bringing limp blackbird
To hide beneath the writing desk
Staying til seeking fingers
Think the deceased some
Fallen fabric long mislaid.
Tom watches the floor beneath
The writing desk- sitting upright
Poised, ready to defend his decision
To places the feathered foe out of sight.
Tom noses reaching fingers, pushing
Them away, this way and that way, away.
Tom, you dreadful fellow, you-
Off and away, he's told
This poor chap will be buried
He's all so cold.
Poor Tom, Tom thinks,
This was my enemy, my foe
What business is it of yours
To let him go?
Judith Joseph, Harbone, Birmingham
Earning her keep
Paw over nose,
Tail curling up full tum
Princess Mabel snores sweetly.
Outside the door, lined up
One, two, three,
From small mouse to larger rat
Princess Mabel deserves her nap.
Judith Joseph, Harbone, Birmingham.
Arthritis has a friend
Sweet-faced grumpy old man
Sitting backwards on my feet
Warming frozen toes
Without a look, not a one.
I scratch his head in thanks
We purr in harmony, together.
Judith Joseph, Harbone, Birmingham
Friendly Advice
A pussycat somewhat small
Has planted her paws on a shawl.
She kneads it, you see,
Which I'm sure you'll agree
Is not good behaviour at all.
Her Persian ancestry shows
In the arrogance of her pose.
The sole thing to do
Is, Nina, for you
To fashion a wrap for her toes!
Lesley Clive, Wirral
WAITING
Why does my cat WAIT?
He WAITS for his dinner, He WAITS for his tea,
He WAITS at the back gate to see you and me.
He WAITS in the garden to try catch a mouse,
He WAITS at the cat flap at the side of the house.
He WAITS on the wall to watch neighbours go by,
He WAITS on the bin to catch birds as they fly,
But the biggest WAIT that he ever will do
Is to scrag next door's tom as he tries to pass through!
Mrs Maggie Brickell
ODE TO MERLIN (A very remarkable cat) - Dedicated to the work of Rosemarie Cook's sanctuary in Tadworth
Once, he nestled with his mother
Other siblings close beside.
Once he, cared for by his owner,
Cherished apple of her eye.
Then one day a shock awaited -
The home he knew was there no more
None to stroke his long black soft fur
Or call his name from her back door.
He did not understand what happened,
Cast outside, the door slammed shut.
All he knew was, he was hungry,
Alone, confused, scared and hurt.
Long years past, through streets he padded
Gentle lad, he suffered so.
Humans who, with taunts and cruelty
Made it clear that he must go.
Eventually, his travels led him
To a garden, quiet and dense.
Starved, footsore, could walk no longer,
His aches and sorrow were immense.
Through the years he came and left there,
Scavenging as best he could.
Never neutered, often injured,
So much pain he had endured.
Although he thought he'd been forsaken,
His nose, it twitched with sheer delight -
He smelt the food within the garden,
And there he ate with all his might!
More food he sniffed beyond a doorway,
Desperate now, he closer came.
Gaunt small face pressed to the window
Saw a human watching him.
Nights still cold, he called for comfort,
Sometimes venturing through that door.
He had to now - his health was failing.
Oft she'd find him on her floor.
Then one morn a voice, it called him,
A clanking box was set to rest.
There he smelt a special morsel
So ran inside to take a chance.
A long and bumpy journey followed
Through the streets of Epsom town.
Carried from the car to town house,
Odd smells there, they set him down.
Calm cool hands they poked and prodded,
Terrible head wound tended first.
Bathed his torn mite-ridden ear flaps -
Of dreadful cases, this the worst.
The vet he spoke to a kind lady.
Told her: 'This is just the way it is...
He's old, he's sick and lord - he's ugly -
But he's a very nice cat in spite of it!'
Next day a different face was watching,
Tears ran fast down her pale cheek.
'Oh my God, you little angel
If only you could learn to speak.'
She searched his face, her shocked expression
Noted ulcers, sores and mites.
'Little one, with me your carer,
No more lonely, frozen nights.'
He trusted her from the beginning,
Patient, brave, he let her care.
The months went by, his spirits lifted,
His ghastly wounds they disappeared.
At first she kept him in a warm place,
In fragile health he must not roam.
But later, in the warmth of summer
He had the freedom of run and home.
All this time his friends were growing,
Wondering at his courage great.
Emma, Lorna and many others.....
But he loved her who sealed his fate.
The gentle lady made her mind up -
He would never leave her side.
Scars still born from his sad wanderings -
In faith and trust to her twas tied.
Near two years past, content and peaceful,
He never wanted for love or food,
But there were times he did discover
That he did not always feel so good.
The kindly vet told his kind lady
His poor insides were not quite right.
To watch for changes, and when she saw them
To be prepared for another fight.
The noble lad once rushed to play
Inside the grassy run,
But in the heat of this long summer
He knew his days were almost done.
He dozed serenely through the day
Upon the kitchen chair.
But through the peace of that long afternoon
So many folk were there!
Chrissy came to give her greeting
Gently took him out of doors.
'You come outside, enjoy the sunshine.
It's time for you - we've done our chores!'
There he sat amidst the ladies
Relishing the centre stage.
Time went by, then two went homeward.
He sighed - so tired, and felt his age.
Beside him there remained one female
Lying close upon the ground.
But he just could not lie with comfort,
So he stretched and looked around.
The human then produced a treat
A bowl of luscious cream.
The furry boy, now thin and rangey
Soon tucked into this liquid dream!
Struggling to rise, he stood and swayed,
Towards the garden pond.
The female clearly saw his problem,
And took him to water in the pen beyond.
He content, his tummy resting
On cool flag stones on shady floor,
Looking quietly round, and thinking:
'I shall see this place no more.'
The other, searching for his mistress,
Stood and gathered him in her arms.
'I shall walk you round the garden
So that you can smell the flowers.'
Coal-furred feather-weight, to her he snuggled.
Patiently he heard her speak
Of the beauty of the garden,
Whispering low to his soft cheek.
Then they came to place so wondrous,
On cool sweet dasied-grass they lay.
He quietly watched her as she showed him
All the wonders of that day.
The sky so blue, the white clouds skudding,
The rustling leaves and frisky breeze;
The glorious birdsong all around him,
Bees and butterlies in flowers and trees.
He stretched out long and lay his head down
On a once-large fluffy paw.
Lulled by her soft voice nearby him,
Closed his eyes and dozed some more.
Half awake, he heard her tell him
That if he had to die that day,
She would never rise and leave him,
Upon the ground, with him she'd stay.
Then a shout - his mistress calling
Roused him from his drowsy state.
She had been so very busy,
Sorry she had made them wait.
She stroked his throat, his head he lifted,
Happy purring, in such bliss.
Then, in loving arms she carried
Him away with a decisive kiss.
Photos taken of her darling,
In her arms and on the grass.
Tearful voices now were fretting
That this time must come to pass.
Hurried walking, urgent car ride,
Tempting him with tasty ham.
All the while her mind was struggling:
'Must I do this to my lamb?'
He was once more carried inside
To that well-known place of care.
Soon he saw the face before him,
An old dear friend was waiting there.
'Come on Merlin, what's all this then?'
Emma spoke, examining him.
Soon we knew she'd made her mind up -
Twas best that this should be the time.
All around him, voices loving,
Hands so gentle, stroking him.
Sweet ham munching whilst paw was shaven -
Till the last he trusted them.
One more munch - and then he faltered,
Little head slumped to his paw.
Then she checked his silent body,
Said his brave heart would beat no more.
All broke down, such tears around him,
For he wove a magic spell.
Gentle, dignified, courageous, Merlin -
Of such a cat, the truth to tell.
Came next day, a sunny evening,
Soft wind blowing all around.
There came she, his gentle lady
Carrying spades to dig the ground.
With other female, her companion,
Together they chose his place of rest.
And there in sheltered, sunny pathway
She decided t'would be the best.
Close to where the day before
He'd gazed upon that view,
The turf removed, his grave was dug,
One last sad act to do.
His lady brought him to that place,
Two other females there.
Each in turn said their farewells,
Last touched his silky fur.
They wrapped him in his blanket
Within a pillow case;
They gently laid him in the ground,
Forever his hallowed place.
Before the turf was neatly placed
Her name-sake she planted there -
A sign of sad remembrance
For all he meant to her.
They made some tea and brought it there
Sat drinking, with some cake
Talking of his happy times -
This was his goodbye wake.
He touched so many busy lives,
His patient courage true.
Of all the cats who touched my heart
My Merlin - it was you.
Marilyn Page
Any port in a storm
Folly was an ordinary black cat-
There is no disputing that.
She lived across the road from me
And obviously got bored – you can't blame her
For that.
Whilst her owners were out all day,
she knew where to stray for the best milk and attention,
not far from her region, which is hard to determine.
As cats are curious and oblivious to reason,
But don't they have the nose for treason.
Luckily she strayed in to my life,
but has now gone to the cattery in heaven,
but to put it brief we had a good time.
After her demise – cats are aware there is
More space to share and I now have to more in my care.
Marjorie Innes
He was wild, and so was I
He feral, me fearful
Biting and scratching, hissing, kicking.
I endured the pain and persisted, not knowing why.
Now, my companion, confidant, consolation
I am enamoured of his presence.
But, still a wild gleam in the eye
A sharp claw when the past re-awakes.
Yet, a friendship, a bond, a reciprocal need.
He is black: sleek, sinuous, an Egyptian head.
He tolerates no other but me.
I fear, he will return to his vagabond ways.
I am extravagantly polite to him, my black Beauty.
He shows me love, I have triumphed.
Yet, do not take it for granted.
Sovereign of all he surveys, my garden, his pleasure ground.
From whence he came, I do not know
Nor speculate on the hinterland of his earlier existence.
He is mine, I am his.
How I love him, my black Beauty.
Yet, I know his struggle: The Call of the Wild*
And the comfort of the hearth.
Contentment for the moment.
*The Call of the Wild – Jack Kerouac
Mary Davidson
KIMMY – OUR ONE AND ONLY
It was a lifetime ago now
Since she came – a little ball of black and white fur.
I had known cats before I wed,
But they were male – so different to her.
Kimmy was all female and it showed;
She definitely preferred my husband to me.
Later on came Robert Wagner.
When she heard the signature tune to "Heart to Heart" on TV
She would follow his movements on the screen.
(Yes, it was that long ago you see).
Then turn round to see if we were watching too!
Gradually she grew up and other desires came on the scene.
My husband thought she should have one litter;
A decision which was unfortunate, maybe.
As she doted on her family, when the last kitten went
She stood and watched, howling on the landing, pitifully.
After the operation, she lost her way.
It seemed as if her aim in life had gone,
'Tho she came up to see us every morning.
Till one day she didn't appear,
She'd passed away that night, without warning.
Afterwards we felt we'd taken her life away:
The little black and white cat – a lady in every way.
Mrs Ann Furly, Brighton
Calendar Cat
All through those happy springtime days
We studied your beguiling ways
When summer came our kitten cat
Became a full-grown autocrat
Now that these growing pains are past
Long may this mellow autumn last
Though winter days are bound to come
It's something we can't dwell upon
Mrs C. Ball
'MHI' On The Edge
Big, black, beautiful 'MHI', the cat and master of our house,
This feline had his own pastime, he'd sit on the edge
Of the basin or bath, looking back at us
From mirror's view.
At times there would be smalls soaking
So, cautiously he'd manoeuvre himself
And haughtily, let his superiority be known.
Tail twitching eyes semi-closed.
Then without warning his careful balance
Would be disturbed
One back paw would slide ungraciously
Into the suds.
Quick as a flash (pride temporarily adrift)
He'd pull it out –
Skinny leg and lumpy foot pretending to contain
His nonchalance.
Surely our turn now, as we enjoyed our bath
Us two sisters, could not help but laugh with glee
At this regal cat's absurdity.
SO
Encouraging him as he exited, to speak
With his only voice
A tiny 'MHI' !
Mrs F A Coury
Toto
A tiny bundle, black and white,
Feisty and funny
A gift from a friend
His adventures were many.
One winter's night we heard his call
We searched and searched but had no luck
Where can he be we wondered and puzzled
We went outside to look once more,
And there was Toto up on the roof
Atop the chimney unable to move.
The snow was falling, what can we do?
We rang the firemen, they already knew!
From another family next door but one,
The firemen came with ladders and cage
And brought Toto down safe and sound to the ground.
He made the headlines, a photograph too
In the weekly paper with the firemen crew!
Mrs J. Best
Manny
Lovely, gentle Manny
Was my old grey cat
He was so very loving
There was no doubt of that.
He had a natural habit
Which I did not like
He was always catching little birds
Before they could take flight.
Manny had an accident
He sustained a broken hip.
Jenny nursed him back to health
He was mine when he was fit.
I had him more than fourteen years
And like wise Marley too
I miss them both so very much
They are now in pastures new.
Nancy Moore
When I was a little girl
No more than seven years old
My mum was taken very ill
To hospital she did go.
My Aunty Glad came down to help
Because we had no dad
He died when I was five years old
It was so very sad.
Aunty Glad was very strict
Sometimes she was quite nice
She didn't like the cats we had
She hit mine once or twice.
My cat's name it was Willard
He was a friendly bay
But when she said 'he's got to go'
That made me start to cry.
I knew that Aunty meant it
I thought, What shall I do?
So I picked my dear old cat up
And up the stairs I flew.
I opened up the window
And stood there with my cat
I told her 'if you come near me
I'll jump and that is that'.
I know she knew I meant it
And kept out of the way.
She didn't touch the cat again
I knew I'd won the day.
I felt a wee bit sorry
And ran away and hid,
I knew I frightened Aunty
For acting like I did.
She never told my mother
Exactly what went on.
But somehow mother found out
By then my aunt had gone.
My mum was very cross with me
And said I should be smacked
But she could sympathise with me
Because she too loved cats.
Nancy Moore
Marlow the Black Cat
Marlowe was my big black cat
He was such a handsome boy
Whatever was I doing
He was always there close by.
I treated him with great respect
Because I knew he'd change -
One minute he'd be friendly,
The next time he'd be strange.
He didn't like to be picked up
As I found to my dismay,
He'd dig his sharp claws in my arm
And knew he had his way.
If there was a meeting in the village hall
The cat was there as usual
Sitting by the door.
He'd jump up on the table
Having a good look
Then taking his own place
Sitting on the minutes book.
No-one dared to move him
They knew what he was like,
So someone used to come for me
To take him back outside.
The same thing happened in the church
On a Thursday morn
He was always waiting there
For everyone to come.
Some people used to say to me
Why ever do you keep him?
I loved that cat and told them straight:
Don't touch if you don't like him.
Nancy Moore
The one that got away
We bought puss back from our island home
An expensive job was that,
But we were her only family
That lucky, feral cat!
Our farmer neighbours, not wanting her
Was carried over in a shawl
We made her safe and kept her warm
That tiny, furry ball.
The only puss to leave her clan,
The only puss to survive
What happened to her siblings then you ask?
I think, all six, just died?!
Taken from her mum so soon,
For us soft hearted Brits,
We soon began the ritual tabs
For Ringworm, Fleas and Nits!
She settled down in snowy clime
Six weeks to be indoors-
She didn't like the damp thick snow
Not used to wet old paws!
My husband passed 4 years ago
So Chilla is my mate-
Friends and family often come
Be she looks on in hate!
Fourteen years have gone by now
And Chilla's old and fat.
A bit like me I hear you say-
But each and every day, I thank God for my Big Black Feral Cat!
Pam Harris
You look so cute
Just standing there
A grin on your funny face.
Your tail held high in the air
Part of the feline race.
Real cats I have had
But none with the look
An artist has given to you.
So I gaze with a smile
And figure it's worthwhile
To keep you here in my place.
Pamela Savage
Dear Puss
Dear Puss, if I may call you that
Although Your Majesty seems more apt
You fix me with your emerald eyes
Allow a stroke or two
Then having had your fill of food
Go off to seek your other friends
More strokes, more food then back you come
To rest and slumber in the sun
Patrannah Hammond
MOGGY
Moggy the ginger tom was a bit of a scruff
Sleek he was not, in fact a bit rough
He pounced on his prey with lightning speed
An impressive sight as everyone agreed
Birds and mice seldom escaped his claws
They dared not catch breath or even pause
"Here comes dinner," you could sense him say
"That's right punk, go on, make my day"
He was in his element when having a spat
Evicting strange cats from his habitat
He saw them off and they quickly took flight
Battle scarred and bloody into the night
After lunch when he'd been really well fed
He loved to snooze on top of the shed
Then he'd wander inside and give a little mew
And I'd say, "Hello Mogs, how do you do?"
Moggy had been such a feline delight
And then he just disappeared overnight
I miss the old scruff and whatever befell
When we were together- The Cat Done Well
Patricia Smith
A Frosty Morning
The pile of leaves now brown and dry
Lie in the summer house piled high.
The mornings white and crisp with frost,
With sprinkling of white on moss.
Now comes the crunch and crinkle of crisp leaves,
I watch with wonder and I see
William, the cat emerge from inside the pile,
Bewildered and sleepy, waken by my call.
He creeps out, looks and stretches,
Why wake me at this unearthly hour?
It was warm and snug and comfy there.
Now I must face the morning air.
William, you are no young man to play this game,
To stay out all night in wind and rain.
Jack Frost is cold and ruthless to ageing cats,
He cares little for your silky coat, your soft pink paws,
Your purring throat.
When will you learn to stay inside on winter nights?
Warm, safe in comfort by my side.
Pauline Ellis
William and the Fairies
On the railway bank you see,
Fairies dancing merrily,
William watches quite intent,
At this interesting event.
He would like to play their games,
Now how can he explain?
The little people stop and stare
At the pussy sitting there.
They make a fairy ring around
On the green and grassy ground.
William crouches down to see
So that they are the same height as he.
Now they sing him sweet, sweet songs,
And he purrs the whole night long.
They sit on his whiskers,
Then to his ears,
And whisper to him his nightly prayers.
So to sleep he snuggles down,
Then all the fairies gather round.
Down into his fur they huggle tight,
And watch and care till morning light.
Pauline Ellis
William in the Flowers
William sits amongst the flowers,
Where he whiles away the hours.
And he watches bees in flight,
Flitting through the flowers bright.
Collecting Pollen for their hives
They have very busy lives.
William likes to smell the flowers,
As he sits there hour by hour.
Of his nose he takes great care,
In case a bee should sting him there.
Butterflies also come and settle
On the brightly coloured petals.
William likes to watch them fly
Into the summer clear blue sky.
He also looks at ladybirds,
With their red and spotted curves.
Then comes the caterpillar's crawl,
And William loves that best of all.
The crinkly caterpillar creeps along
On his hairy long fat tum.
The bugs, beetles and ants collect
Around my furry little pet.
He really has a busy day
Watching all these creatures play.
Pauline Ellis
Feeling Purrfect
Perfect puss;
Her feline grace
Becomes skittish, when mistress shows her face
That was yesterday!
Curious; bossy boots
A changed cat this morning
A day spent pawing and preening
Ends in a wide mouth yawning
My life shared with kitty
Is contentment doubled
That warm ball curled up
On my lap,-
Can't move now. She's enjoying a nap.
Miss Rita Da Silva
Minerva
Cat Minerva is a goddess of cats.
She sits there with disdainful air
And looks around with haunting stare.
She arches her tortoiseshell back,
Waves her tail and sharpens her claws;
Then she ventures out of doors.
Only when a squawk is heard
It's discovered she has caught a bird.
Then Minerva comes in for a nap
And dozes, purring, on my lap.
Artful wisdom to be seen,
She will forever be my queen.
Rosalind Perry
The Visitor
My neighbours came round to tell me
'We're moving at the end of the month'
I was sorry to hear they were going,
For they had always been kind to me,
But I shed no tears of regret.
Then a most cheerful thought occurred to me:
Archie would be moving too!
And then I wept for friendship lost.
Archie, their great big ginger tom,
Independent, resourceful, proud
Would often visit – just to check
That all was well with me.
He would patrol my fence
Like a security guard,
He would catch a mouse
While I stood on a chair
(He was often seen with a rodent tail
Protruding from his grinning mouth!)
He would sit politely at the dinner table
Waiting patiently for morsels of flesh
(He always wore his whitest bib!)
So I'll miss his round face at the window
Much more than these verses convey.
I just hope he'll settle in nicely
With his new neighbours far away.
Rosemary Anthony
My Valentine
I love you when you're cosy,
I love you when you sleep,
I love you in the winter
When in my bed you creep.
I love you in the summer
When the sun makes you shine.
I love the way you stretch and yawn,
You're my Valentine,
So big and warm and lovely...
My ginger cat Clementine.
Mrs Sandy Smith
My life is devoted in Latin they say
Well mine is as well in a similar way
This poem I write will explain what I mean
Mid cushions of comfort my evening
Time scene –
My parents just chatter or watch the tv
I see them occasionally looking at me.
'What a darling' they say
'How peaceful she looks.
She's had a hard day
Haven't you, Snooks?'
I roll over the cushions
Sink deep in the rug.
The mother comes over
And gives me a hug!
Sidney Abrahams, Chertsey
Tiddles
Serene feline upon my knee
Bathed in the morning's sun
How well you relish each of life's gifts
While we want all, then some
How you delight at feeding time
Each bite a source of rapture
With us what matters is
What's next
That ever final chapter
And when you sleep
Catnap or lounge
You're peace personified
Yet when we rest,
We worry lest
The sleep we need's denied
How can we learn sedate feline
To follow your example
To seize each day
To take our time
And view each gift as ample
Denis & Patricia Reid, Calgary, AB, Canada
LUXURYCAT
Luxurycat luxuriates on somebody else's lawn
More out of instinct than desire, took a lazy swipe at a butterfly
While eggs and bacon spit and fry
And sparrows perch on a telephone line
Crouch and creep and peep and pounce
Scratch and stretch and yawn
Tripwire reactions but outwardly unconcerned
Watch out pussycat, don't get your whiskers burned!
Vic Lime
Cat poem by Miss V Noble
While we eat macrobiotic beans & rice
Tasting each delicate mouthful carefully
My cat crunches the bones of fresh killed mice.
While we seek relaxation on the floor
Made comfortable with cushions,
He shows us how!
Outstretched on a board,
Dangling one limp paw.
He is,
He is this cat.
He is himself to the end of his whiskers
And to the uttermost curve of his claws,
But he licks me,
Lies beside me and licks me,
As if I were a cat like him,
Massaging me with a lick
As if licking and liking were one.
Then failure, guilt and loss
That tell me with their weight
One lifted and for those moments
He is: I am: & we lie together.
Miss V Noble