If these paws could write, I would tell you thank you. For my food bowl, for the water bowl, for the treat bowl I loved ever so.

If these paws could write, they would tell you how much I loved your warm clothes from the dryer. The way you held me in your lap while I slept. I would write about how much I loved being your baby.

If these paws could write, they would write about how you saved my life and gave me a second chance. I would write unending about how I could fit in the palm of your hand, and how you gifted me with sight that I would not otherwise have had.

If these paws could write, they would tell you how grateful I am that I got to see you and to be loved by you; how wonderful to have become part of such a large family, and to be surrounded by my own kind and people that loved me.

If these paws could write, I would write you a sonnet that Shakespeare could never dream of. I would tell you how happy I was to make biscuits in your lap, and how you put up with my sharp claws that dug into you with love because I felt safe.

If these paws could write, I would write to you about how happy I am now: to be free of pain, to be able to see without any problems, and to be with my sister, brothers and nephew again.

If these paws could write, I would tell you this: do not be sad because I am gone, but be thankful that I was here. Cry if you need to, but not for too long. I understand that goodbyes are hard, but you will see me again. Don't let your heart get so heavy, that you don't let another in.

And since these paws do not write, I will say that I love you, and my last word will be the first one I said to you:

Mama.

They've been
monkeying
around with
my town, when
I wasn't looking.
The space and
landmarks have
been shifted.
Something is
cooking in the air.
It smells ultra
bright, with a
hint of juniper
berries.

Even, the kittens
are sitting up on
their haunches and
taking notice.

next to the flat
the neighbourhood
tabby swatting at
the drain.

sinewed fur-lined,
feline; finding
some poor animal
in a cage
outside its making.

i can’t see
below the earth.
the poor thing,
fighting.

Dear poets and poetesses

Easy way out.
~~
To have an evangelist
Girl friend boy friend
Is the best thing that
ever happened to many.
of us
Because men and women
often cheat undercover
they find each other out.
They pray confess cry yell and
even faint backwards.
In church and at home,
making up forgiving
each other
And there blame it all
to Satan the devil.
Diligently so,
they invite others
door to door asking
for donations
to get others to do the same, in the name of Jesus
So there we have it religion.
~~~
Mr and Mrs Andrews
And Karijinbba.

I was looking forward to beginning a book about felines,

the beautiful view of moggies in verse and rhymes,

but after perusing a few there was a nagging sense in my head,

I didn't agree with a lot
that I read:

I saw words like "aloof", "distant", "scorning",

as if these things only

arrive when they deem to

call,

and I thought you really

don't know cats at all...

They'll follow you down the road to see you for a bit more time,

and sit on the knee, purr contented divine:

although still a bit scared on her back will roll and with vulnerability meet,

conjuring up the sweetest of greets.

Someone once sang...

"Don't get excited, cats will never be our sidekick
so I know our love will always be unrequited."

However...

Bouncing down the street to see me when I got home from school,

I forgot in an instant a bully was cruel,

then lost, bereft, day all of the slow,

went and sat on my shoulder to say, "I'm here, you know":

an attempt to lift, a furry kick-start,

if that's unrequited I choose a broken heart.

Okay, maybe a scratch, never say never,

but our love is precious

and always forever.

Write what you see, sing your song,

but please, please,

stop getting cats wrong.

Curiosity perhaps killed many a cat
For a cat it is an inquisitive brat

It could rummage through anything even your ******* trash
Tabby may spring on dinner table and cutlery may crash

Famous might be a cat for those famed nine lives
but not much help is that if in every danger it dives!

Its feline curiosity to crash-land it in trouble
for it tends to explore every kind of rubble.

The catty **** likes a fight and a wild-goose-chase.
Forever looking forward to amuse and amaze?

In a cat basket he's likely to be struck with ennui
Perhaps his caretaker thought only of his fengshui?

His meowing and hissing resonates in the valley
as he tussles with many rival cats in the alley

Mr. Tom cat thinks most females are saucy
but with them he acts in a way quite bossy

Wild and rough, with macho feral pride
I watch you tease and taunt in your typical stride.

No way is he kitty soft paws
Mr. Tomcat sure has the sharpest claws.

Tomcat ate the fishy leftover pudding & fish pie
and kissed the feline females and made them cry.

But my fav is my own cutie darling so soft
even if she may raid the larder and loft that's aloft .

©

Oh no not again
I knew it would happen
The unmistakable carpet stain
An innocent look of "it wasn't me"
As he bounds off upstairs
To spread more mud
"That's it you flee!"

Next time I'll be ready
With sponge in hand
And towel at the door
But you'll wriggle and squirm
"Just give me your paw!"

Swift and slippery
You think this is a game
Well i'm not impressed
On hands and knees with a rub and a scrub
Giving my patience the ultimate test!

Oh ocelot sky
spotted clouds of black and gold
filled with stars
the shining eyes
of a cat
among the heavens