"cate" poems
Abbie hailed a yellow top cabbie
Brenda had a sister in-law named Glenda
Cate ran late on her first date
Delly ate seven bowls of lemon jelly
Edwina drove to the town of Catalina
Fran burnt her finger on the very hot frying pan
Gwen had a strong yen to go and see her aunty Jen
Hope bought her husband a towing rope
Isobel fell under the magician's spell
Joann took her mother on a holiday in a caravan
Kylie went to the dentist with her brother Wylie
Lesley liked listening to Elvis Presley
Marcia enjoyed eating a freshly baked focaccia
Nell saw a turtle coming out of his shell
Olga lived at the top end of the river Volga
Primrose had a Pinocchio nose
Queenie knitted a multicolored beanie
Ruth could never tell the whole truth
Stacey loved playing dress ups with her friend Tracey
Tilly behavior was always rather silly
Una bought a house in the suburb of Yagonna
Verity wanted to be a well known celebrity
Winifred never stopped taking about Alfred
Xena was presented with a court subpoena
Yale told her teacher a tall tale
Zealand ventured out into the bushland
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
‘Puts Me to Work’ echoes through the house,
Cate Le Bon’s voice bouncing off the walls.
I can almost see it, storming down the hallway,
Barging out of the bathroom.
This floor is ******* freezing.
I can see my reflection in the shiny wood;
A circle of condensation that grows and shrinks
As I breathe in and out.
‘But I know that you’re there,
‘cause you’re making it hurt.’
Entire galaxies are swirling in the shaft of setting sunlight
Streaming through the broken blinds
At right angles, sharp and sudden.
Solar systems shift and spiral,
Exploding every
Time I take a breath.
A lake is forming by my chin.
I wonder if it is clear and wet
Like swimming,
Or white with froth and paste
Like winter.
I stop wondering when the shivering becomes me.
‘It puts me to work . . . puts me to work.
It puts me to work . . . it puts me to work.’
The song has been repeating for an hour now.
I used to really like the end.
Something like forty-five-minutes-ago.
I wonder if the battery will die soon.
I wonder not if I will die soon.
Preoccupied with galaxies and spirals and the little spot of condensation
Forming and unforming as I breathe.
With the frozen lake I feel cold enough to be skating across
In these baggy shorts and this tattered t-shirt
From a Nirvana show last century.
The battery doesn’t die, and Cate Le Bon comes racing around the house again.
I close my eyes and sigh.
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 3:32 PM UTC
Let me tell you what I want….
I want to read Somerset Maugham and Aldous Huxley and Leonard Cohen and Mary Oliver
I want to hike bits of the Appalachian Trail and take long walks in the hills around Snowdonia
I want to ride about in the DC Metro and the London Underground
I want to explore small towns and big cities
I want to eat lunch in quaint little bistros and have dinner at the table in my yard
I want to browse through antique stores and fancy boutiques
I want to play with dogs and rub their bellies
I want to take long drives without a destination in mind
I want to waste an entire Sunday at home talking about everything and doing nothing
I want to build a fire and watch a movie
I want to sit on the couch and sip tea
Most of all, I want to do these things with you
Don't let your addiction take this away
With all the bits of my heart….
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Ring ring
Hello, Linda
Hello cate, you've hit my attention
I hope you got love and *****
Some pills for the oozing heart
Some illusion for the nostalgic memories
*"Linda was diagnosed with broken heart syndrome
She rarely breathed
her heart was dragging her through most days
it was giving up
She couldn't feel it at times"*
Noo, today I've got cards
Maybe we can play tricks on your heart
Remind it how it feels to be alive
.........
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
sails like blankets
thrown awry,
float with
idle paseé.
wind whips wrinkles
for pioneers,
chaos and crinkles
make our worst fears.
wakes speed time
like a blitzed motor,
whils't the sun burns
blackened otters.
sunsets brush the
beauty away,
highlights fade
and darken grey.
birds fish
the waters va-
cate your hovel
and meet us for café.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
Three in the morning, I know you're *****
On schedule beggin me to forni-
Cate, fellatiate, make a grown man *********
I guess I should elaborate...
But first aren't you a little to old
to be so uncontrol-
Able
I'm too smart for this ****
But happily your little *****
And I know
That you
Never mean a word you say
Knowing I eat your ******** up any day
Anyway...
I've pulled up in your driveway...
Waiting for you to
Break my heart, turn me into a ****
sapian, reptilian, nymphomanian
A ****** up, stockholm syndrome alien
Tonight I think I'm stayin
Over
Pull my hair to and fro
Play me like a puppet show
The amount of pain I undergo
I guess I kinda like it though...
But that was a long time ago
But it really wasn't that long ago
Our monthly reunion you know?
Goin on three and a half years or so
What a shame
That I continue to rinse, repeat
A let it happen all over again
And It's okay to be scared
Unprepared
When
You let it
Happen all over again
Every now and then
Rinse, repeat and let it happen all over again
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
A genesis, the exodus, the exodus,
A departure from all terrestiality
Always immoral and depraved, bathed in filth, in self-loathing
Abbatoir of our souls, it entrenches us
Also, we too must be of the same make
And bear with our corpses the same proceedings, the same caliber
Allowed to their subversive candor,
All that broke the Carthiginians upon their own passage
Across the peninsular pathways
S'il in our conquest we find, however, that the pachyderms have run aground,
Vous must aggregate our conscious thought
Plaitcate the ravenousness within the heart of victory.
May 6, 2012
May 6, 2012 at 11:22 PM UTC
is certain to make you feel.
This touch-
with a simple, yet graceful,
small but significant,
c omplex and intricate
feel.
Oh- this touch
takes shape and form
in various ways-
-
her eyes
-
to and from-
she'd get a hit marker here and there
h e a d s h o t
and still had time to take out the handgun
for some overkill-
no mercy
-YET-
while he on the other hand patiently
waits. . .
She hid towards the sideline
wave once more-
Gripped hands as I wrapped my vocal chords
to reach every inch of everyone of her sensory nerve endings
-then suddenly reacts to'
"Hey! might just be me- but why do you keep tucking yourself away?"
"Reaching-for-something"
- she says . .
(corny hand quotation gesture)
-
for this touch was dawning-
yet it had already claimed its place
without any physical* force'Mmore* like grace -
streams by
-
with a side stroke of a shoulder-
all it took was leaning to one side
-
and i'm reminded
I am certain
I could feel.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
BLACK CAT
What does a black cat look like
In the light of an ancient moon,
Which can address his finest ways
While he catwalks the lands in gaze,
Paris is the place he craves to be
This any other cate would see,
Why the old cat walks around?
His eyes possessed the town
Until the light of the velvet moon
Helps him feel at easy where he could
Find a place to sleep,
This ancient cat knows what is best
While he lays his little head for rest
Where he could get up to do his best
On gentle grass in a social life
grace is always on his side,
Oh, how he dreamed about alleys where
food is in the cans of garbage bags
where kitties are play around
doing what they know in a world that is
evil and cold.
Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 7:46 PM UTC
.RED.
Passion, obsession shooting through me, consuming me when I didn't see it coming,
Please be patient while I can't shut up for the next week about the music I listened to or the book that I read.
.WHITE.
You see my eyes go blank as I'm chirping to you and then it's
Quiet, too quiet in this small, dark room.
Cold novacaine floods my veins in a single heartbeat,
Novacaine fills my brain in a single heartbeat so I am
Teetering, tottering on the edge of die or live
Because if I can't feel, can't love, can't give
Then what's the point of it?
.BLUE.
It usually comes after and it always hits me faster than my mind,
Don't have the time to straighten out my thoughts and make things right before I'm
DROWNing
SUFFOcate
NO TIME to DELIBERATE
If this is really worth this feeling, I hit the ceiling, I'm reeling
SHUT IT DOWN
.BLACK.
Now it's darker than the night
No red left in me tonight, I've given up the fight
I'm so tired I can't see
I know we'll play this track again tomorrow but now all I have energy for is sleep.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
Time doesn't crawl,
No, you can't make it stall;
Even if you pay with any toll.
So make as much brawl,
And quit calligraphy and try to scrawl.
So in the end, you'd have something to recall.
Time doesn't walk,
Don't try to balk.
Everybody knows it flies faster than a hawk.
So be sure to listen when I talk,
Because someday I'd be gone and you'd surely gawk.
And by then, you can never again stalk.
Time doesn't wait,
So drown all your hate.
Don't be the rod; instead be the bait.
Don't wait for the fish to become cate;
Catch it before it's too late.
For you never know when's the expiry date.
Time doesn't hang out,
That's what it's all about.
So don't fill your head with doubt;
Laugh while you can still spout.
Because no matter what you do, time will rout.
And there's no use of trying to pout.
Time doesn't pause.
You're not the boss,
You don't need to know the cause.
So don't wait for any loss,
Or for the growth of moss.
For one day there might be no coin left to toss.
Time doesn't stand by,
And it's not a lie.
The sky's too high,
But you'll reach it when you die.
Life's a sweet apple pie,
So don't waste it on a sigh.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
Prolly wouldn't have gone off half as well.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXIV)
Whilst steam wafts up in dainty tendrils' sense
Of romance, brie with del'cate mould's detail
Upon my tongue, where Peter's on the trail
Of Tigger and she's dancing oer mice, whence?
The squirrel comes by to look, and they from hence
Are keen on him, or whom? Chill winds' exhale
Sifts through like solace, where calm seems t'avail
Despite their wild play cuz I'm home fr'intents.
Debate what I shall serve for breakfast, poor
As such sheer wastes of time, and brunch will do,
I guess. Swiss cheese and scallions mixt in tour
With scrambled eggs, Canad'an bacon too,
And porridge, noshed on whilst they sleep. Bestir
Fresh air with gratitude. LORD, I thank You.
25Aug25a
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 12:04 PM UTC
All the expectations
All the preparations
Each year that comes
It could have been
Happy daydreams
Reality, I cope
I still long for you
Knowing you as no other
I bring you flowers
My sweet Cate
Three were born.
Two remain.
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 8:17 AM UTC
once we visited the zoo.
that was a grand tableau of life
in our cages of strong iron.
on the camera,
we froze the beauty of a small fawn,
the toy for children.
others in other directions,
played with their fingers,
and they reciprocated.
in a corner,
a small kid looked
at a white big cate and
slowly wrote something
on the muddy wall,
zoo is sweeter for our senses
than the suffocation of their dreams.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
catherine is in blue
and bandages her finger with grass and a feather
her mother is sure she took on grace whilst in the womb
who is first and and yet an afterthought?
catherine is bleached
between girls breathing rococo and the washing machine that doesn’t distinguish the separation of her name or fabric
ever maid
where does she go and you begin?
that brother has the ocean compressed in his eyes
and it’s the ships that go by in the night
that make her as penitent as the Magdalene
catherine is moving
and if she takes on the sun it’s best to leave some in Catalonia
if she carves herself in flesh
she should do so herself
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 3:04 AM UTC
Cate turned 41 three days into the (most recent) millenium.
A lot of people thought the world was going to end
(something about computers or calendars)
It didn't.
She celebrated over a sparkling wine brunch
with friends she rarely
saw.
They giggled relentlessly over the old jokes and
gracelessly stumbled
over the o l d jealousies.
That time at the Chinese restaurant at
midnight,
Who saw him first?
Wasn't it Jane?
Jane!
Where has she gone, had anyone heard?
No one had but it didn't matter
(so long ago she had stood, placed the thick cloth napkin on the table beside her plate and excused herself to another universe)
Her alarm rang early the next morning:
jarring an artificial start to the day.
Cate wondered where she was for the
moment (before remembering)
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 2:30 AM UTC
fun//ny how
hazel
made. me. forget.
i HaTe Vegas
just like; auburn
canmakeme
visit _ the _ mall
&those; sliver limbs
&dime;° waist°
}my} hands} fit
perfectly'round
can >make >it >all
make. sense.
all | those | things | i
#neverwanted
&presssedagainstherhip;
just >for>get >a>bout
anything i. thought.
might; matter.
&who; cares¿
[let'sbehonest]
what's-so-great
about~wants~anyway¿
& 'when 'she ''trace'''s
the veins >in >my >arms
with her del _i _cate
fingers
just 》go 》ahead
ask. the. cream.
¿if she cares for honey¿
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Smile, or?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLXXX)
White. Snow. Sae del'cate that we feel it hence
Within our souls: that hallowed silence they'll
Assure ye is what Sunday's due. T'inhale
Is what we do, half stifled, til I thence
Am lo, some heathen, breaking in fr'intents
And shattring that fine calm as I exhale
My raptures with sheer glee words maught avail
Aught else, Dad chiding me like's sans defense.
So I pass through to breakfast: late. Yes, stir
Him 'spite all that to later say it too,
Whenas the dainty white is heavy--we're
Agreed tis verra wet, and will melt to
Effect ere we're aware, nor linger. Pure
Sweet silence calls unto my soul as't woo.
14Apr19b
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 4:23 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
Two Verses in the Eternal Hymn
For Cate and Jack
Christmas 2023
From the foot of the Throne
A river flows out into all that is
And with it your music across the universe
To sing the happy beginnings of all things
To celebrate the holiness of being
Past
Dragons and dreams, the Mysteries of Joy
Galaxies of stars, the Mysteries of Light
An abyss of pain, the Mysteries of Sorrow
Eternal dawn, the Mysteries of Glory
Your music spirals and spins among the spheres
Among the orbits and spheres and great mysteries
Great mysteries of beings and things never seen
Your voices join with the songs of Creation
Your music slips into our atmosphere
To sing and ring among the rocks and rills
Voices of love singing joy and truth
Your gifts of beauty to humanity
You and your sweet voices, rare gifts of love
From the Throne of God to us on earth
And back again, music as light as dreams
And deeper than thunder from Olympus
Old Vainamoinen sings at dawn with you
Euterpe, Terpsichore, and Erato are your kin
Apollo tunes his lyre to you, and Pan his pipes
And Cecelia blesses all your works:
Hymns, descants, and carols, merry marches for the road
Bubble-gum tunes for the car radio
Sea shanties for work, and nonsense rhymes for fun
You pray them, play them, craft them all into place
Your music is a sacred offering to God
You sing it out into the universe
Where every note is an ornament forever
And you are two verses in the eternal Hymn
Dec 10, 2023
Dec 10, 2023 at 8:53 PM UTC