"catnip" poems
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.
Apr 5, 2011
Apr 5, 2011 at 1:51 AM UTC
Bluto, the world’s strongest man, could tear bread loaf-sized pieces off a steel-belted tractor tire with his bare hands.
But he could not lift a single smithereen of his sensitive Piscean heart when Lily, the luscious, leggy Leo trapeze artist, left him for steely-eyed Arien Karl, the literate and literary lion tamer.
Horoscopic Circus, Act II
She was a Cancer Dragon. Like catnip to the Piscean Tiger, whose feline DNA was his Achilles heel. Especially when she wore heels. And nylons. The end is nylon, he thought. I love you she said. I love you more he affirmed. And firm he soon became. Then being the ringmaster, she opened her mouth and incinerated him -- as only dragons can….
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 1:53 PM UTC
She loved the catnip
Straight for the hip
She was like an alley cat
With a worn out welcome mat
Her tail rang a chime
And every tom stopped on her dime
Petting was blunt
For all the toms went for the hunt
Affront of the beat
Two cats in heat
Nights played out in false hearts
Howls were off the charts
Brief was the moment
Lost was the fulfillment
Days sagged later
A same old story, bye alligator
Much to the chagrin
Of the alley's spin
When her baby was born
She was forlorn
Like a woman out of wedlock
Dealing with tom's, full of croc
My sister, I watched you fall
My words to you hit a blank wall
You played the game
Without a flame
Sadness as your son bleed
Now years later he followed your lead
Logan Robertson
8/09/2018
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
Daisy
There was a flower named Daisy,
I think she is a little bit crazy,
Spits pollen everywhere,
Shows her underwear,
And all the time she is lazy.
Camping
Camping is on a deserted tropical island. Camping is singing on the moon.
Camping is the wildlife around me. Camping is dancing on the sun.
Camping is on top of an icy mountain. Camping is in the middle of nowhere.
Camping is flying through the jungle. Camping is getting lost in an adventure.
Camping is a tent shivering in the cold.
Cats
Cats are black and sly. They creep down the halls without a sound.
Everything it looks at is still. Their eyes glimmer in the dark.
They prance on their prey and in seconds they are gone.
They taste like a big glomp of hair with a hint of catnip.
They fell like a sharp claws climbing in your skin.
They smell like danger. When a cat feels sad it cuddles up with me.
My personal favorite..
There once was a girl who said
"These limericks are hurting my head,"
"Your teacher says you need only to write two,
Then you can go up to bed."
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 5:43 AM UTC
*Between the night and daylight,
As twilight begins to shower,
Comes a lull in the day's preparations,
Cherished as the Kittys' Hour.
I hear in the kitchen beside me,
The patter of tiny feet,
Rumbles of varying motors
With "meow's" gentle and sweet.
Leaping from counter with agile grace
On my shoulder with a purr;
Sail grave Thomas and sweet Lady Jane,
And Susan of golden fur.
A "meow," and then a long silence,
I know by mischievous eyes,
They are scheming and musing together,
To vanquish my weary sighs.
With sudden dash from the hallway,
Tortie bounds into my arms!
Felines of all colours sit starring,
Delighting me with their charms.
Frolicking with skillful ease,
Tossing and batting their catnip-mouse;
If I run to escape, they surround me,
They appear to overflow the house.
Suffocating me with their kisses,
Furry paws patting my face;
And though they have torn the kitchen blinds,
They dazzle me with their grace.
I hug you all close in loving arms,
And will n'er let you depart,
Nor ****** you dears out to coyotes,
For you each have won my heart.
And here shall you dwell forever,
Cherished more each golden day;
Till this glad house fall into ruin,
And I in dust shall decay.*
~Hilda~
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:07 AM UTC
Here kitty kitty!
Hot feline **********
Catnip screams her name...
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC
the stray
kittens
meeting
at the
red barn
rolling on
***** of
green and
purple yarn
pouncing on
the tapioca
scent of
a catnip
moon
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 12:29 PM UTC
I love you more than I love my Momma
And quite a lot more than Republicans love Obama
I love you more than Miley loves twerking
And probably as much as teenage boys love jerking.
I love you more than hipsters love instagram
and about the same as the turn of the century loved the telegram.
I love you more than Hans loved Anna
and just as much as monkeys love bananas
I love you more than the asdaf kid likes trains
and most likely more than Anastasia liked pain.
I love you more than pandas love extinction
and probably less than pansexuality needs distinction.
I love you more than John loved his best man
and I ship us more than any fandom can.
I love you more than beliebers love Justin
and definitely more than **** maids love dustin'
I love thee more than Shakespeare loved tragedy
and the same amount as Ann is raggedy.
I love you more than Peeta loves Katniss
and almost more than cats love catnip.
I love you more than teachers love cheaters
but probably not as much as Jesus loved Easter.
I love you to the moon and back
and there is nothing that you do lack.
<3
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
i leave my skin on the trees
and my brain in the clouds
my eyeballs sit in the rose bush
(watching all that goes past)
and my toes are stuck to the pavement
my lungs can be found in the nearest mailbox
(if you look closely you can see them still breathing)
my lips are in the catnip plants
kidneys on top of the telephone poles
but my heart,
my poor, beating heart
is with you
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
The sleeping creature in my chest,
The curled up cuddly fuzz-ball,
Is feline, but no tame house cat.
Is soft furred in rest, and porcupine quilled in anger.
Her sharp teeth are usually hidden
Behind adorable whiskers and damp pink nose.
Sometimes her claws worry affectionately
At my ribs for attention,
Just so I don't forget she's there.
Today she is mad, frenzied,
Her proud cat dignity has vanished, she almost dances.
She chases her tale like the simple fool she is not.
She opens her mouth, not to bare her teeth,
But to mewl a plea for a mysterious something.
She buts her head against my heart again and again,
Knocking it off rhythm,
Rubbing it warmer with her fur,
Batting it and chewing it like her new favourite toy,
While I sweat
And stammer
And breathe too fast
And beat too fast,
And all for what?
You gave me your hoodie.
She caught one fragile whiff
Of your vetiver tinted catnip scent.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
Falling for toxic boys
when will we realise
Mr. Wrong wreaks havoc
whereever he goes
leaving behind a litany of woes
What’s the attraction of the bad lad?
known universally as a cad
pure catnip for some women
in their pool I won’t be swimming
Maybe their addicted to drama
flying in the face of karma
is ungentlemanly behaviour mistaken for passion
or wearing a lothario the new fashion
Their well versed in the art of seduction
continuously rehearsing their next production
maybe romance with a ladies man is a headrush
back in the day I had many a bad lad crush
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
Jazz floats about
from the party down the street
I sit in the garden alone with my dirt stained feet
watching with tenderness as the bees go along
natures kin, they pause by the pond
sweet lavender and catnip
the weeds grow by themselves
and the bees, with no preference
hover over all with gentle care
I can only sit and watch, never to interfere
with nature's kin.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
Tabby Lix is the chick with the **** sure to get your hammer swanging. Pull back and strike! without each and every regret you were fed by the newest precedence in social norms. Peek this ******** scope his or her form. Non-binary ***** she's splitting your mind in two and got you confused so rear back your neck, dragon, it's K -- I got the shield. Boy. One of you might want to **** me the other turn tail 'way while another one even less understanding might got something to say, he say: *** drop ya pants, I'll cut ya little **** off n I'll feed it to you and if you need a reason you only need to know who ya talking to. When I walk with my walk I'm a horse trot, like I got the whole pride of lions riding on my stride --
I like to **** the girls
I need deplete *** to survive
I know the entire world
yes everything high and low there is to see and, all of the reaches and trends begin and end with me. I know you know I got the right the justified authority to beat you in your ******* face for the choices you make that might lie beyond the confines my head. I don't believe in you and I don't need to. Rear back your head, Dragon, it's K I got the shield. And when I'm back on attack I gotta let my **** dangle down to show you ******** what's real just like sometimes I **** ***** or lick ***** and cunt-thrust or **** butts, I'll penetrate you, you **** House-pet cat Tabby Lix gets her fix by dancing with the devil on or off her leash you, never, never -- **** with master. Check the collar. Guess boy/girl for $10. Lift muh tail up. Use your fingers. Can you find, blind? When I win I'll buy a dime bag. Make me feel good. Kitty catnip. Stick your tongue down my throat, descend unto madness.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
My cat likes poetry
She listens attentively to my recitations
I think she might write poetry
I heard her staring outside longingly
Purring mightily, grooving
Transfigured in the morning sun
Her stripes a kaleidoscope of yellows and grays
Keen green eyes on high alert
With flashing intensity through the sliding glass door
Jousting with the mockingbird swooping to peck her head on the patio
Rolling in the catnip bed in triumph
That’s the poem she composes
In the throes of poetic excitement
Inspired by wish and instinct
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC
His ears are soft now, not scabby
His purr is deep and mellow
He played with catnip this morning
Now on my lap, nestled between my naked *******
soft fur, never knowing or caring my clothing status
fluids, pain killers, anti-nausea
I never thought it would help
but it has and today is a good day
almost like his old self
my thirteen year old pancreatic cat reborn
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
So here, I've left you this dead bird, on your bed,
Don't say I never gave you anything.
Well you haven't cleaned out my litter box in a week!
So I just used your shower.
Neuter! what does neuter mean?
Is this some new savory, tender chicken sausage perhaps?
I don't know you!, stop looking at me!, I don't like you! Get off of my couch!
What is it with you letting your friends come over to my house!
Whistle, whistle, hear boy, hear boy, c'mon boy........
I'm not a dog you know; I'm not coming!.........I'm not....
Oh did I just hear the delicate air escaping a pressurized can of tuna........coming!!!
No...not interested in the ball of yarn, because I don't feel like playing that's why....
I'm just going to stay in this window sill all day; leave me alone!
A bath!?......ha......seriously?.....you've got to be kidding me,
I do a **** fine job of licking myself on the constant thank you very much!
Well it's 10:00 o'clock in the morning, what do you expect!
I'm taking my mid morning NAP! ***** off!
Yes....I chewed, clawed, scratched, and slobbered on those loafers of yours,
I was bored.
Psssssst.....psssssst....Hey...hey buddy, .......yeah you, reading this ****** poetry,
Hey listen, you got some catnip I can score?
-----ChawzzyScript
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC
Placing bets on breaking window panes,
we're laughing and discussing names
of children who don't exist.
We're making artifacts today
of catnip, yarn and candy canes,
later we'll have to hide them.
We're making threats on rainy days,
spilling how we'll run away,
complete with notes and what they'd say
to help the parents cope.
But we'll grow up another day.
Till then, each day we'll strive to keep
the promises we've buried deep
in the barn grass and cattails.
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 12:53 PM UTC
This poem was only written to
Create a meter and a rhyme
There is no deeper meaning here,
So if you don't like wasting time
On mindless drivel, here's your hat
Because this poem is just that!
No wellsprings of emotion flow
Nor subtle allegories preach
Within these empty, patterned words -
I have no wish to moan or teach
Go somewhere else for love or fear
Because you will not find it here.
Now to apply some filler words
Like catnip, ice cream, roller rink,
Because I have no words to speak
And do not wish to feel or think.
I told you you were wasting time
Upon tetrameter and rhyme.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 11:24 AM UTC
Jinx! You owe me a haggis!
Sheep! Sheep! Sheep boing!
I tried to connect the two.
I am glad that someone loves my discursive stuff.
I feel thrilled that someone validates me.
Tell me why again? Why why why not?
Did you mention socks? Why?
You’re a sock! Your face is a sock!
A pair of socks! I laugh!
You didn’t anticipate that one, did you?
I will nevar stop. Nevar.
Yes. An alternate spelling.
Hehehehehehe.
Be bold. Be bold like Leeroy Jenkins.
Yas. Chicken music. Yas.
He was brave, he led the charge.
On monkeys and elders, what was our conclusion?
Monkeys are silly, elders are catnip.
I am silly. This poem is silly.
Hehe. You know what I’m about to say next.
We must keep it a secret.
Sheep! Sheep boing!
Figure out what that pakis-ectomy is.
Yeah? Yeah? Well, you’re a pakis.
I guess that Wyatt Cenac
said it best:
I have to fool you. I am fooling you.
Aeneas, Cooper, Pedro, and Boo.
They are all amicable with each other.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
*what would it be like
a cat that has insomnia*
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
I didn't make it through the movie "On the Road"
It didn't translate well to film, or maybe it's me
worry grips me and I cut my clonozapan carefully into fourths
and take one fourth and smash my finger into the dust and lick it off
I value it more than their benzodrine
The moment I awaken, the fear grips me, and then what?
One pill is consumed every few hours in the morning and early afternoon
leaving the next, for the panic of the evening
how will it end. I don't want to go back. I am told not to think of it anymore
there is nothing more to be learned and it is only like rubbing my wrist
against a razor, trying to get through those tendons to reveal the pulsing red
their faces, my bosses, with their pasted on smiles, Stepford wives every one of them
the male, the female and everything in between
focus on the students, they will lose a good teacher soon
I am sad for that, yes and buried down in some black hole of my consciousness I know it is true. I am that good teacher for
the girl who must move again this year, like last year and walks home
to the poor neighborhod where she lives and hears gunshots every night
My intervention and pleading for her teacher
to please reach out to her, because she is failing, and is afraid of you
even if you don't believe in gunshots or her cousin shot and dieing in front of her
and yes having mercy is one of my strengths, as my pancreatic cat rests on his catnip toy
and I care about those kids
not the stupid school
and even if I've put myself on the line, I am no phony Stepford wife
and if their reality, those kids reality is ugly and we know about it, we must help
even if it makes my bosses uncomfortable and squirm in their eggshell world of middle
class comfort. I don't care anymore.
The kids are what matter, helping them with whatever time is left.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
any holiday can go on and commit suicide in some old ****
coconut
postcard, I reckon.
it’s alrite here.
it’s not burning and the sand is a lame type of concrete, but
it has a lot of life. there’s even coral here, I probably need you
to call me up and have you explain it to me
but it’s here
all the same;
there’s howling monkeys that can open yoking orange suns, that
don’t know what to do, we wont ignore them though;
they keep on skipping around
pulling
the tide up to our seats-like they like the raw smell we give off
its normal in the city but unknown here
we fight- nothing
the world dives into itself
and see’s that it still sings
the resort keeps on beating behind the eyes of the falling sunset
the calls of our skin are catnip to the flying things and moving things
we walk across the beach as it follows from 11 to 3 and 4am.
it dies and leaves the moon screaming
in sirens within the black distance of the shore
the vehicle that comes as we sleep
holds open the road with our eyes
and remains eternally as we wake.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
Once a feral kitten, that hubby took pity on
Found in a scrap yard, to hubby, he did bond.
I carry jars of homemade jam, down the basement stairs.
He swipes at my legs, I drop the jars. He doesn't care.
I'm straitening the bathroom drawer, he gets all frenzied.
Later on that day, I find, all the contents emptied.
I pick fresh flowers, neatly arrange them in a vase,
it only took few seconds. There's petals on his face.
Our, brand new, leather furniture arrives, to our joy.
He claws the cushion up, looking for his catnip toy.
Christmas tree full of lights, with my antique ornaments.
He attacked! Maybe he thought he was protecting us?
You might ask why it is we keep such a rascal cat.
Look at that innocent face. I couldn't refuse that.
When it is, that we think about redecorating,
we just point and say, "This is why we can't have nice things"
Aug 23, 2010
Aug 23, 2010 at 5:12 PM UTC