daverhymes - Hello Poetry

You give us good bites from the table Where Daddy will just pet our fur Lil nuggets of chicken or salmon Like perfectly made petits four Your ballet nails scratch our backs Our sleepy eyes close in delight And then suddenly you sneeze us awake So we have to shout Meowsundheit This tiny poem will show you our love More than any pretty flowers say And so we're forever your cutey kittens Happy Meower's Day

0

May 9, 2021

May 9, 2021 at 10:48 AM UTC

From our two cats for Mother's Day

You give us good bites from the table Where Daddy will just pet our fur Lil nuggets of chicken or salmon Like perfectly made petits four Your ballet nails scratch our backs Our sleepy eyes close in delight And then suddenly you sneeze us awake So we have to shout Meowsundheit This tiny poem will show you our love More than any pretty flowers say And so we're forever your cutey kittens Happy Meower's Day

12

OCHI: OH BOX I HIDE

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Jun 22, 2018

Jun 22, 2018 at 9:06 AM UTC

. Oh . middle . finger How I do need thy simple gest to handle the *** holes who oft cross the rue of my day

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Jun 22, 2018

Jun 22, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC

Ode to my middle finger

. Oh . middle . finger How I do need thy simple gest to handle the *** holes who oft cross the rue of my day

9

I am your champion for when you lose your way And a shoulder to cry on so let life come as it may I am your champion when you have nothing to say The one who will be here until we're old and gray You are worth fighting for

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Jun 22, 2018

Jun 22, 2018 at 8:50 AM UTC

Champion

I am your champion for when you lose your way And a shoulder to cry on so let life come as it may I am your champion when you have nothing to say The one who will be here until we're old and gray You are worth fighting for

9

Truth is paradise. It leads men's souls to an island alone.

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Jun 22, 2018

Jun 22, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC

Truth is paradise

Truth is paradise. It leads men's souls to an island alone.

1

Gentle waves reflect Star undimmed guiding my path Still as Winter ends

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Jun 20, 2018

Jun 20, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC

For my father, who still guides my path

Gentle waves reflect Star undimmed guiding my path Still as Winter ends

3

I am big on iambic pentameter About that I could never lie, since I pass every poetic parameter And earned my poetic license

0

Jun 20, 2018

Jun 20, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC

Poetic license

I am big on iambic pentameter About that I could never lie, since I pass every poetic parameter And earned my poetic license

4

Cats have dreams, or so it seems Their paws move like Mike Andretti Chase laser beams on carpet seams, Or dangling strings of spaghetti Perhaps they recall catching some small prey on the ancient Serengeti And then just doze in a treetop repose "I'll just snooze until they pet me!"

0

Jun 20, 2018

Jun 20, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC

Cats have dreams

Cats have dreams, or so it seems Their paws move like Mike Andretti Chase laser beams on carpet seams, Or dangling strings of spaghetti Perhaps they recall catching some small prey on the ancient Serengeti And then just doze in a treetop repose "I'll just snooze until they pet me!"

8

Mr. Tilden leapt from a building and died from multiple contusions. Later his wife lamented his life (quote) he always jumped to conclusions.

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Jun 20, 2018

Jun 20, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC

Mr. Tilden

Mr. Tilden leapt from a building and died from multiple contusions. Later his wife lamented his life (quote) he always jumped to conclusions.

4

At the end of a great writer... "The most important moments are at the end. 10 minutes in youth may be unworthy. These last moments will make all the difference to me, but I will not remember one of them." The newborn speaks and the men listen... "Is the soul in the mind of the writer, or in the writing itself? How does our consciousness pass on?" The old man lays down his glasses the last time... "I will now sleep and dream, and in the morning I may cry my first."

0

Jun 20, 2018

Jun 20, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC

At the end of a great writer

At the end of a great writer... "The most important moments are at the end. 10 minutes in youth may be unworthy. These last moments will make all the difference to me, but I will not remember one of them." The newborn speaks and the men listen... "Is the soul in the mind of the writer, or in the writing itself? How does our consciousness pass on?" The old man lays down his glasses the last time... "I will now sleep and dream, and in the morning I may cry my first."

10