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laura Dec 2018
meow
A
flash from beneath the christmas tree
like a person diving in the water
truncated by a fluffy tail, a blur of reality
a ball of fur as fast as lightning
thumping up the stairs
then back down
then back up
then back down
I sat with a cat in my lap.
This cat is having a nap.
I wish she'd get off me,
I have to go ***.
This cat in my lap should ****.

This kitty is itty & bitty.
She jumped up to where I was sitting.
She needs to get down,
I'm wearing a frown.
My bladder is making me giddy.

So here I sit like a twit.
My lap must be made of catnip.
My need is so great
But she just won't vacate.
This cat in my lap should get.
The cat's name was Mystery, by the way.

© 2011  J.J.W. Coyle
Bella Jul 2018
I Send my words hurling into your airway like swords
I bite off your tongue with every sharp response my body conjures
I have every witty comeback on speed dial to drill into your spine
The way your **** drilled into mine Pull old pennies from my pockets and throw them into your eyes
So you may not look at me the way you have for so long
You're are barely worth my pennies anyways
Here's a donation to your sorry ***
How about I grasp your neck, at just the right spot, just hard enough, to crush your voice box
To dwindle your air pipe just a little
So you cannot throw those trash comments at anyone else
How about I ***** each of your fingers
Push them deep into your pockets
So that you can't feel anything without remembering me
You look at me like a mannequin in the window of your favorite retail store
You try yo put a price on what I'm worth
Maybe you can try me on
Throw me on the floor
Grab another
How about I tattoo my name on your chest
So that you cannot take off another piece of clothing
Take off another girl
Throw them in the floor
And not remember me
You will never throw me in the floor again
For I am permanently burned into your chest
How about I burn off each hair on your body
One at a time let it Sizzle down and sear the skin
Let each tiny poor feel the pain one at a time over and over and over again
Until you are left, raw

This
Is the day I speak back when you cat call me from across the street
laura Aug 2018
20 years old
lost 1 and a half litters
and her mate five years ago
in a flood
vet says she’s super healthy
and she’s a furball of love
wisdom and mischief
in her catty eyeballs

and here i sit thinking about
a cat that’s lived more life than
i have in my entire life
laura Jun 2018
i’m a bad baby, a wet pussycat
that does a whole lot of meowing
nobody left to blame, a goodbye loser

love me, hate me, be my bruiser
classy lady, i’m unruly you can tie me
up and school me just don’t try to save me

and i parted ways with bad friends
if tomorrow comes then what’s good
don’t be afraid to laugh at my expense
laura Jun 2018
i’m a kitty cat, a minx,
a playful mistress
your enigma, the sphinx
and my fur’s wet

****** into water,
trying to escape the rain
or the plunge,
happiness is a stain

the more ya pet me
the more i bite
the more you pick me up
the more my tail twitches in spite

if today you drop me
i’ll love you
but if today you love me
i’ll hate you
ryn Jan 2015
.
      I hope you know
how much happiness    
you bring into my life...      
              When all hope
           seem to have failed,
                       you were there
               keeping me alive...
    I'm so grateful for what
     you have added to me...
              I couldn't have asked
                     for a better friend,
             to help open my eyes
          so I could finally see...


My days            
were filled with
tearful gazes.
Eyes drifted
away            
    to far off places.
But today        
            the sun brought out
            the green in mine,
A promise
of a future...
                   In my heart does shine.


                 You and me
                   together...
         Hand in hand
anything is possible...
                      This is only
                             a bump
                     in the road.
                  With you
here next to me,
             nothing
       is impossible...


Together...                
We could leap
into            
        tomorrow's rays.
Without care,
fear                      
nor                          
concern...            
We now rule
the fate      
of our days.
With...          
           Sceptres in hand
and        
                 flames in our hearts
that burn.



Cat aka catbrd
*ryn
.
Our second collaboration...
A big thank you to Cat for her fantastic verses! Her talent, honesty and heart made it so easy for this piece to come together. Here's to you Cat! Applause!
.
Tom Spencer Aug 2018
moon faced
door mat cat

velvet tent ears
and stripes

faintly glowing
in the kitchen light

eyes track
my routine

paws tucked-under
quiet, waiting


Tom Spencer © 2018
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Poor wee cat lost in the dirt
trodden on when wee and hurt
lived on worms and ***** things
insects crawlies all with wings
you fell lucky furry boy
found a family full of joy
hunted you until they won
took you in for love and fun
now you weigh a lot of pounds
your belly drags along the ground
but such a baby you're so sweet
rubbing all around our feet
"Dry me off then put some food
in my dish please don't be rude!"
I have to say that in my mind
a cuter moggie can't be found
If am born next as a cat
I'll be like Wilson soft and fat!
Philomena Dec 2018
I remember how sweet it was when you held my hand
Just to let me know you were there and that you cared
But with my hand pressed against yours you noticed

"what are those?"

You caught me off guard
And we were both looking at the faint reddish pink marks all over my wrists and arms

"it's nothing just the cat"

And you smiled a weak smile
Knowing **** well I didn't have a cat
I am currently eating a cucumber. That has nothing to do with the poem, it's just a very good cucumber.
writerReader Jan 2015
Cat
what do
you think it's
like to be
a cat looking
out the
crystal window wondering
what it's like
to be
free
Sara Kellie Dec 2018
Every time I pull it off
it goes off in my face.
It's in my eye and
on my lips,
I look a right disgrace.
My ***** though
she loves it so
I do it all the time
and if I feed her
from a tin
I'd feel it was a crime
because she just loves
those sachets
that I can't pull open
without getting
covered in
gravy
flavoured
splashes.

Poetry by Kaydee
What
were
you
thinking!!
Kevin J Taylor Aug 2017
Raymond shifted his weight forward on the coffee
shop chair and leaned his cheekbone into the heel of
his palm. A childhood verse chided him in his
mother’s voice of over fifty years ago.

“Raymond, Raymond, if you’re able,
get your elbows off the table.
This is not a horse’s stable,
but your mother’s dining table.”


It didn’t immediately connect to any
pictures in his mind but he had heard it enough
to know it was real. An hour ago he had been
at his mother’s side in the palliative care ward.

She had appeared smaller than he liked to think of
her—had looked almost like he was seeing her at
a distance. She hadn’t greeted him, only closed
her eyes and said, “Feed the cats, will you.” It wasn’t

really a question. “Yes,” he answered, but the cats,
whoever they were, must have left or died years ago.
The only living thing she owned, he suspected,
was the small Christmas cactus someone had brought to

cheer her up. He looked at her again, waiting for
her eyes to open. They never did. Her jaw dropped
and that was that. Raymond hadn’t wanted to be
in the room when the nurses and orderly would

come to take her away. He stopped at the reception
desk to say that he’d be in the coffee shop
waiting for his brother and sister-in-law to
arrive. They were late and he was thankful to have

a few minutes to himself. From where he sat he
faced the open entrance of the café. There was
a couple sitting tiredly off to one side.
A man in a shapeless blue hospital gown and

slippers shuffled in pushing an IV pole ahead
of him. Raymond heard steps echo sharply down
the hallway. Here they are, he thought, hurrying
needlessly. Bill and Marijke had been fast asleep

at 2:30 am when Raymond’s first text message
came in. They never saw it until 5:00 when Bill
reached for his cell phone as he did every morning
right after Marijke turned off the alarm. “****,”

he said, “No time.” Bill, “William” on his realtor
business card, and Marijke, were used to demands
on their time from potential home buyers. But they
usually had early mornings to themselves—

breakfast, coffee, catch up on current events. Not
today. The text had said, “ASAP.” They hit the drive-
through at Starbucks on their way to the hospital.
“Hey Bill. Marijke,” Raymond said. Bill nodded. “Hey,”

he replied and paused to look at Raymond, to see
if he’d say something else, “Is she gone?” “Couple of
hours ago,” Raymond said. “Should we see her?” Bill asked.
“Can if you want, I suppose. Maybe later,"

Raymond said, "Did she have a cat? She mentioned cats.
I haven’t seen any for years. Did you take them?”
Mother might have mixed him up with Bill again.
Raymond looked at his brother who didn’t seem to

be listening and then at Marijke. "She used to
feed the neighborhood cats before she broke her hip,”
Marijke said. “That might be it.” It seemed odd that
Marijke knew more about his mother’s life than

her sons did. “Maybe you’re right,” Raymond said. “What’s next?”
“I’ll call her lawyer and get him on it,” Bill answered.
Raymond suddenly realized that his brother
had been listening. Marijke started to cry. 
 
Raymond pulled some napkins from their holder and pressed
them hard against his eyes. Bill looked down and away.
Over the next few days life seemed to stop. Nothing
more than daily routines and only as long as

they didn’t require much effort or attention.
Coffee, whatever was in the fridge—dishes sat in
the sink. Gradually he began to feel alive
again. It was as though he had been wrapped in blankets,

hearing distant, mostly muffled voices, glimpsing
unfamiliar rooms and spaces when he closed his
eyes to sleep. Marijke had startled him this morning
when she called and said to the answering machine that

Bill and her were coming over with something from
the lawyer and hoped he would be in. She didn’t
wait for him to pick up. She’d have known he was at
the kitchen table. They arrived mid-afternoon.

No knock at the door. Bill was the older of the
two and was the most like their dad. And Dad had not
been the knocking sort. Not with Raymond anyway.
Bill and Marijke each carried a bag of groceries

which they placed on the kitchen counter. “Thought you might
need some things,” Marijke said. “Nice to see you, Ray.”
She took a bag of groceries and made room in the
fridge for its contents: milk, BBQ chicken and

eggs. She placed the bananas in a wooden bowl.
“Saw the lawyer yesterday,” Bill started. “He has
the will but it doesn’t amount to much except
for the house,” he paused, “The equity has mostly

been ****** out of it. God knows what for. And there’s this…”
Bill dropped a large manila envelope in front
of Raymond. “I’ve already opened it. There’s an
envelope for each of us in there. Marijke

says we should open them together because we’re
all the family we have now.” He tipped the envelope
on its end and let the two smaller envelopes
slip out. One each for William and Raymond. Bill picked

his up and tore the corner of the flap destroying
most of the envelope in the process and
extracted what appeared to be several sheets of
neat handwriting. “It’s just a letter,” Bill said. He

put it into the inside breast pocket of his
suit jacket. Raymond waited a moment then picked
up the other envelope, turned it over and nodded
almost imperceptibly. He stood, walked to the

shelf between the window and the back door where he
had made room for the Christmas cactus instead of
leaving it behind. Not sure about the light, he
thought, and leaned the unopened letter against the

earthenware ***. “Not you, too?” Marijke shook her
head. “It’ll be like…” Raymond said, he paused, looking
at her, “It’ll be like not hanging up the phone.”
Marijke understood—he’d never open it.

“I get it,” she said in a softer tone. Bill looked
blankly at his brother. And Raymond smiled a little
for the first time in a while. By six the next
morning Raymond was already dressed and brewing

coffee. Usually he would head down to Timmy’s
Donut Shop for his caffeine fix. “Double trouble,”
he’d say, meaning “Double double,” as he always
did at Timmy’s. It amused him and often made

his favorite server smile. “Too much trouble, you mean,”
she’d say. Human contact. Raymond guessed that some of
the guys at the corner table would be wondering
how he was doing. They’d know what had happened, of

course, but they’d ask just the same. He poured his first cup
and walked out onto the back porch. Still a bit cool
out here, he thought as he leaned against the railing,
sipping his coffee as his eyes wandered around

the yard. He’d have another cup in a while but
first he had something he needed to do. Raymond
sat down on the porch steps and slipped his feet into
an old pair of shoes. He tied them and flicked the loops

with his finger to see how the laces fell, to
make sure he had not tied them backwards and would not
work their way loose. Someone had taught him that a long
time ago when they had seen his laces come undone.

He stood up and walked across the yard to the back
lane and the narrow picket fence, missing a picket
here and there and much of its original coat
of white paint. Some boys had probably pulled the missing

pickets off decades ago and with galvanized
garbage can lids for shields spent a Saturday
morning sword fighting. The gate was leaning and half
open, held there by uncut grass, weeds and neglect.

He stepped out and onto the lane that led between
the two rows of houses that backed onto it. Raymond
looked at each fence, each set of stairs and window as
he passed them by. A block later he turned and headed

home satisfied that he had seen at least one cat,
maybe two. Another cup of coffee in hand,
Raymond sat on the top step. On his way out of
the kitchen and onto the porch he had stopped to

turn the cactus in the morning light, stepped outside
placing a saucer of fresh milk by the porch door,
and sat down.

THE END
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry with common things.)
Steve Aug 2018
.

Three little Piggy’s
Wallow in the swill
Who’s going to show them
What happened to Jill?

Little Jack Horner
Scourge of the sauna
Who’s going to tell him
Bo peeps round the corner.

Piggy’s in the middle
Cat’s on the fiddle
Who’s going to stop them
The answer’s a riddle?
For all the missing poets.
Bardo Mar 2018
One Summer's night looking out the
   back window at the back garden
My! I couldn't get over it, how bright it
    was
You'd think the sun was still shining
The Big Moon casting its ghostly pallor
    over everything
Like an Enchantress's dark spell
The strange cold beauty of it, it held
    me enthralled
I could only stand there watching,
    silently in awe;
Suddenly, a peculiar thought came
    into my head
I smiled at its outrageous suggestion
Then grabbing my sunglasses and my
    old deck chair
I went out into the garden and sat right down there underneath the stars
Bathing in the silvery light of the
    moon's cold rays,
Well I tell you, all the night creatures
   going about their night business
They all did a double take "Hey, that's the funny human bloke, what's he
    doin' out this late",
Even the cat came over and rubbed her eyes," Wait a minute ", she said, " this isn't right, you're not supposed to
    come out at night ":
Sensing their curiosity and their
    general discomfiture
I lowered my shades and looking at them all gathered there in the shiny
    bright dark, I said
" Don't worry gang, don't be alarmed,
    no! don't be aghast
It's only.... well, it's only Great Art.

                         II

I don't know
But it seems
Wherever I go
Great Art is never far behind
In tow.
A bit of whimsy. Happy St Paddy's Day.
Knit Personality Oct 2018
"Curiosity kills cats, you say?
Perhaps.  I'm curious every day.
And of my nine lives,
I have left
A single life's breath.
And soon I'll satisfy
My curiosity
About death."

O.O
Ellie Phant Aug 2018
A cat’s purr provokes a precious symbiosis
as cherished old bones rattle
haunches wrapped in warm white velvet
press gently against
my half-broken hummingbird heart
soothing two souls at once
Bardo Mar 2018
Snuggy ****** of a curled up cat by
   the fire
Furry faced, smiley headed, svelte
   purveyor of the big meow
Purring away like a Geiger counter,
If you seek Nirvana then seek no
   more, it's here
The Cat, she knows.
My cat poem. He's my relaxation technician.
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