Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
we went shopping this morning, then to the movies. all the time, the little voice in my head was telling me, i had forgotten an important chore. we were gone three, four hours. the little voice niggling away. got home just now and remembered as i opened the front gate. forgot to lock the catflap gus's in/outdoor. well, by now, its far too late. you see gus, the little grey cat is a collector, not a hunter of things. if god forbid, he were a dog. he would be one of those retreivery things. he finds and he brings, normally to his food bowl. so now, we are in the kitchen and were taking stock. one mangled penny lizard and two other tails. one drowned moth, one feebly swimming still three dazed cicadas, one belly up and by the sound a few more yet to be found a praying mantis, sans one claw and something else, mushed into the floor a magpie feather, but,(thank god) not the bird our little grey cat, flat out on the mat. it has been a big morning, no doubt about that. he sleeps on, oblivious. as we his minions, clean up his mess, as best we can. from experience the lizards, find their own way out. the cicadas, we find, when they sing their discordant song, reminding me, all day long my little voice, not ever wrong.
0
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
the collector
we went shopping this morning, then to the movies. all the time, the little voice in my head was telling me, i had forgotten an important chore. we were gone three, four hours. the little voice niggling away. got home just now and remembered as i opened the front gate. forgot to lock the catflap gus's in/outdoor. well, by now, its far too late. you see gus, the little grey cat is a collector, not a hunter of things. if god forbid, he were a dog. he would be one of those retreivery things. he finds and he brings, normally to his food bowl. so now, we are in the kitchen and were taking stock. one mangled penny lizard and two other tails. one drowned moth, one feebly swimming still three dazed cicadas, one belly up and by the sound a few more yet to be found a praying mantis, sans one claw and something else, mushed into the floor a magpie feather, but,(thank god) not the bird our little grey cat, flat out on the mat. it has been a big morning, no doubt about that. he sleeps on, oblivious. as we his minions, clean up his mess, as best we can. from experience the lizards, find their own way out. the cicadas, we find, when they sing their discordant song, reminding me, all day long my little voice, not ever wrong.
we once came home to find a size 12 chicken still in bag half defrosted and gnawed around the edges go figure lol
betterdays
Written by
F/Australian
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem