Beneath the Eiffel's iron lace,
A tabby cat prowls with feline grace,
Past Arc de Triomphe, she sets her pace,
On moonlit nights down the Champs Élysées.

Prowling around cafés and bustling streets, She slips into wine-soaked conversations, Witnessing love's soft declarations,
While dodging bikes and hurried feet.

Her whiskers twitch at fresh baguettes,
As dawn breaks on the Seine's calm flow, Lounging, watching artists come and go,
From her sun-kissed, with a view parapet.

Notre Dame's gargoyles watch her pass,
Through shadows of restored spires,
In all its reverent wonder, to be admired
As pigeons scatter on morning mass.

Up to Montmartre's charm and winding ways,
She naps peacefully on warm window sills,
As church bells toll from sacred hills,
Lost in the wonders of her Parisian days.

©️Lizzie Bevis

The tendons strained as muscles tensed
Hind legs wobbled in impatient anticipation
The prey grazed slowly upon springs bounty
A twig snapped sounding natures alarm
Crows called cooing caws as they took wing
A ****** predicting the coming violence
The die having been cast elicited a roar
Potential energy unleashed sprang an ambush
Teeth and claws punctured and lacerated flesh
Jaws clenched throat choking life from limb
Latent spasms birthed pleasurable moans
The irony of blood tasted copper coins
As stipes became lost in red matted fur
The **** draining the thrill of the hunt
While the tiger ate his fill

the void
is coming
i cannot stop it
it feels
like a tugging on my soul
i can feel the cold touch of the hands
creeping up my shoulder
trying to pull down
please save me
the world hurts
why do they hate me
why do they hate me
why am i like this
i hate myself
but i hate everyone around me
but i seem happy
what is wrong with me
what is wrong with me
why dont i get help
save me
save me
the cuts on my arms
that are not there
because i convince myself
that its ok
i dont need to hurt myself
but when im curled up against my wall
crying
because the sorrow is overwhelming
i dont know what is wrong with me
what is wrong with me
save me save me save me
please
please
please
please
the fog is coming
the void is coming
the world is too much
its too much
i hate it
i hate it
i hate everyone
i trust one person in this world
but even he will turn on me in my time of sadness
maybe he wont
but i never know
god
what is wrong with me
i feel like i should stop
but the words just spill out of me
like a bubbling can of soda pop
but why do i feel this way
everything in my life is ok
my family is loving
my 'friends'
my dog
my cat
save me
save me
save me
save me
save me
save
me
please

Whiskers twitching, sharp and keen,  
prowling silently, slinking, unseen.  
With curious eyes, so alert and bright,  
investigating all within their sight.  
So lithe and nimble, quick to pounce,  
on playful paws as they bat and bounce.  
A skilful mouser, stealthy predator,  
a beast of surprise and graceful wonder.  
Yet gentle too,
when snuggled up having a nap,  
curled up and content in my cosy lap.  
As comforting purrs soothe my weary soul,  
making me feel loved, at peace and whole.  
My treasured companion and loyal friend,  
Aloof yet loving, wild yet tamed,  
my mysterious moggy a master of might,
endlessly captivating me with pure delight.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Had a chat with my cat.
Now how about that?
She spoke with a twitch of whisker
and slow blinked her eyes to whisper
that she’s feeling quite content
to be in this moment.
For though she’s told me her life story
of all the times she’s been crowned in glory
by defeating her toy mice —
which is really not a vice —
it’s in the here and now
with no sweat upon her brow
that she’s glad to becuddle me
and from worry be wild and free.
Watch her fur belly rise and fall
and her purr keeps me in her thrall
as I scratch her fluffy chin
and feel peace spread within.

She knows it
When you hiss
You don't like her
She has learnt you
She knows she's just a toy
For you, kitty!
But for my scars
They wish for vengeance
For your capture
So when you find yourself
In a cage of your own making
You should try to learn
Not to hiss at
The hand that feeds you