I am a feline,
With black and shiny fur
Not a bearer of bad luck.
Every time I walk so many turn away ,
God! Why did you make me this way?

History hold examples ,
Of me being good.
Is it because I am not white or brown,
Or any colour you like?
Or maybe I am different,
Something you dislike?

Look through my eyes,
And you will know
How the world I see.
Walk in my shoes,
And when you wear yours again ,
A better person you will be.

Thirty
by Michael R. Burch

Thirty crept upon me slowly
with feline caution and a slowly-twitching tail;
she waited three decades for the winds to shift;
now, claws unsheathed, she lies ready to assail
her defenseless prey.

Keywords/Tags: thirty, age, aging, maturity, time, creep, creeping, ambush, feline, predator

You let the jungle in, dear
The steps leading up to your room
Are covered in dirt and plants
leaves brush past your face
And vines hang from the ceiling
It gets darker the deeper you go
And the growling gets louder as well
If you’re lucky you might catch a glimpse of a spotted pelt
And if you see a pair of luminescent eyes
All you’ll see is yourself reflected back in them

With eyes the embers
Of wildfires
She approaches
Igniting the night
With raw curiosity

I gave my sadness to my cat
it fitted his deadpan face
and generally glum demeanour,
he had the personality for it
besides it made him cute,
and a massive hit with the ladies

of course, I couldn’t really
give my sadness to my cat
apart from it being really unfair,
on my best friend and only true
companion, it is ridiculous
to think that an animal is depressed,

though I am, even with his support
endless nights listening to my troubles
his expressionless face understanding
every word, he helps me of course
having to look after someone who relies
on you, makes you feel wanted,

useful, almost powerful in some ways
but after all he is just a cat, however
much I try to make him human,
did I tell you he talks, not really
I think I probably need a therapist
and he just needs to be a cat,

it’s what he does best after all.

I can feel the purr
in his throat
as my fingers pass
across a trusting exposed neck

He lies, Panther like
across my branch leg limb
where we demonstrate
our approximation of love
between two species

Lost in translation sometimes
a little nip to remind me who's boss

We look into each other's eyes
I blink
He blinks
we have our connection.

They say that the human being is a primal creature
That deep down likes to bite, to scratch, to hunt
Mark their own territory
And like so many other primal animals, feels this intrinsic pleasure in subduing others

People say many things
But in my world, pleasure and pain mix together
Primal creatures show their claws
For others willing to be subjected

I once heard that *** becomes human from the moment it becomes ******
For me however, eroticism doesn't depend on ***
And the primal is the most human and the most civilized of them all
Just like the ones that look at me right now
They see my movement and judge me feline
Sharp claws, curious look, precise movements
And I don't even need to show my fangs into a smile
For them to understand who the predator is
After all, as I already mentioned
Pleasure and pain mix

I believe that she's a goddess
in all her female, feline glory
every worry seems to fade
when I stroke her from neck to tail

Pine-tree eyes gazing from underneath the table,
a rarely used mew like the tinkling of chimes,
intricate silkiness intersewn with sable,
and a glinting little bell collar, shining like new dimes

I hardly ever see her,
but she's there when I need her,
as if bleeding saltwater
causes her to feel friendly.

If I ever have to leave this earth,
I want to find the feline hearth,
with all of its eternal worth.

If something,
someone ends me,
That's where she'll send me.