"housecat" poems - Hello Poetry

First Contact "How did I get here,I can't remember, my brains burning out like a dwindling ember, are those tears in my eyes?-no its pourin' rain, I'm lying on my back in the bottom of a stormdrain, hunted like an animal,but still I'm deadly, like a wounded lion,you better bet ye, will lose more men than I've already taken(taken sample), the hunter hunted? I think you're mistaken, I'm a one man army,armed or not, you didn't bring enough manpower,have you forgot?, that the sandman(badman,phantoms in the dark) has more in his bite than you do in your bark, it's getting dark now,tables turning, tyger,tyger,my eyes are burning, better keep your guard up,I've been confronted... but how can you tell who's hunter or hunted? 16. Riposte Better count your sentries,I think ones missin, when you see his blood glistenin your pants your ****** in, should have been listenin,I gave you a chance, now its time for the Sandman to do his dance, like a praying Mantis I move so swiftly, bullet's fly like locusts,but each one missed me, the Locus and Focus of my 3rd eyes movin, got your sentries rifle,but I won't even use it, taunt you haunt you,flaunt skills I honed, from a broken home,to the streets to battlezones, catch you alone,smash your skull with a hanbo, appear behind you from the mud like Rambo, bodies placed like hannibal,a deadly scene, you're a ****** housecat and I'm wolverine, told your boss you could get me now you know you fronted, cat and mouse reversed-YOU'RE the one who's hunted. Denoument Now I know who you are,and I know where you live, and in this line of work I can't forget or forgive. We were partners once now you've betrayed my trust, taught you everything you know,now it's ashes and dust your bodyguards are good,but they know I'll get ya, more ghost than man,a modern day ninja, leave you injured,begging for mercy, but you know the concept is alien to me, grabbed the bull by the horns,my hand you forced, you're a moveable object,I'm unstoppable force, force feed your limbs til you beg for death, line your family up and slowly take their heads, then I'm in the wind,gone like keyser sozey, the word is spread,don't try to **** me, you were my friend,but you crossed the line, try to hunt the Sandman,"you're all ****** dyin"

0

Mar 27, 2016

Mar 27, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC

rob-sandman

Hunted.

First Contact "How did I get here,I can't remember, my brains burning out like a dwindling ember, are those tears in my eyes?-no its pourin' rain, I'm lying on my back in the bottom of a stormdrain, hunted like an animal,but still I'm deadly, like a wounded lion,you better bet ye, will lose more men than I've already taken(taken sample), the hunter hunted? I think you're mistaken, I'm a one man army,armed or not, you didn't bring enough manpower,have you forgot?, that the sandman(badman,phantoms in the dark) has more in his bite than you do in your bark, it's getting dark now,tables turning, tyger,tyger,my eyes are burning, better keep your guard up,I've been confronted... but how can you tell who's hunter or hunted? 16. Riposte Better count your sentries,I think ones missin, when you see his blood glistenin your pants your ****** in, should have been listenin,I gave you a chance, now its time for the Sandman to do his dance, like a praying Mantis I move so swiftly, bullet's fly like locusts,but each one missed me, the Locus and Focus of my 3rd eyes movin, got your sentries rifle,but I won't even use it, taunt you haunt you,flaunt skills I honed, from a broken home,to the streets to battlezones, catch you alone,smash your skull with a hanbo, appear behind you from the mud like Rambo, bodies placed like hannibal,a deadly scene, you're a ****** housecat and I'm wolverine, told your boss you could get me now you know you fronted, cat and mouse reversed-YOU'RE the one who's hunted. Denoument Now I know who you are,and I know where you live, and in this line of work I can't forget or forgive. We were partners once now you've betrayed my trust, taught you everything you know,now it's ashes and dust your bodyguards are good,but they know I'll get ya, more ghost than man,a modern day ninja, leave you injured,begging for mercy, but you know the concept is alien to me, grabbed the bull by the horns,my hand you forced, you're a moveable object,I'm unstoppable force, force feed your limbs til you beg for death, line your family up and slowly take their heads, then I'm in the wind,gone like keyser sozey, the word is spread,don't try to **** me, you were my friend,but you crossed the line, try to hunt the Sandman,"you're all ****** dyin"

51

I wish I could sleep peacefully like a housecat, snuggled into a reclining chair, without a care in the world. But instead I toss and turn with the thought that I’m not sure where I’ll be resting my body to sleep 6 months or a year from now. I lie awake with the worries of missing home and feeling guilty for leaving my needy parents behind. The thought of distance separating you and I, causing us to not be together keeps my eyes open, so that I cannot close my eyes to sleep - not even a wink.

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Jul 11, 2018

Jul 11, 2018 at 1:00 AM UTC

poynter-sydney

Second thoughts.

I wish I could sleep peacefully like a housecat, snuggled into a reclining chair, without a care in the world. But instead I toss and turn with the thought that I’m not sure where I’ll be resting my body to sleep 6 months or a year from now. I lie awake with the worries of missing home and feeling guilty for leaving my needy parents behind. The thought of distance separating you and I, causing us to not be together keeps my eyes open, so that I cannot close my eyes to sleep - not even a wink.

16

The lion dog’s muscles ripple as he descends the stairs toward the source of food guarded by another creature smaller but just as wild. The standoff happens in the kitchen - a 110-pound Rhodesian Ridgeback a pet who wants his kibbles and the housecat who thinks she owns the place. The hound approaches slow and deliberate his huge head depending from a neck thick like a phone pole. The cat sits alert but unconcerned until their noses touch - then the cat flashes surprising claws ripping the hound’s nose and he runs yelping into the living room to hide behind the couch to fall asleep dreaming of the hunt the rush of his tawny brothers across dusty savannahs toward great African lions with paws like dinner plates and sabertooth mouths.

0

Mar 9, 2013

Mar 9, 2013 at 12:51 PM UTC

michael-hoffman

LION DOG

The lion dog’s muscles ripple as he descends the stairs toward the source of food guarded by another creature smaller but just as wild. The standoff happens in the kitchen - a 110-pound Rhodesian Ridgeback a pet who wants his kibbles and the housecat who thinks she owns the place. The hound approaches slow and deliberate his huge head depending from a neck thick like a phone pole. The cat sits alert but unconcerned until their noses touch - then the cat flashes surprising claws ripping the hound’s nose and he runs yelping into the living room to hide behind the couch to fall asleep dreaming of the hunt the rush of his tawny brothers across dusty savannahs toward great African lions with paws like dinner plates and sabertooth mouths.

28

One he was the tiger The other, the tigger And the other, he was The housecat with awkward fuzz. Somehow he had more Than nine lives, or This kitty was a fright That gave Life such delight.

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Mar 30, 2014

Mar 30, 2014 at 3:24 AM UTC

ashley-somebody

Cat

One he was the tiger The other, the tigger And the other, he was The housecat with awkward fuzz. Somehow he had more Than nine lives, or This kitty was a fright That gave Life such delight.

8

A little known secret of actors: you can force yourself to cry by simply thinking about how badly you want to. Here's how it's done. Start with fertilizer. Remember how you felt that first year you did so excellently at school, all-year struggling and so devoted, woke up Christmas to your mother's purchase, eager for sugar plums and hedonist things, ripped merrily into math workbooks. The seed comes next, budding in the open tunnels of self-worth - when he told you that the thing you were best used for could be done by anyone, really, the oldest profession, and how you liberated your oils on canvas long exiled to make a scene of Rahab and Joshua, and cried yourself away on alien bedding. Water it all in whatever leaves the garden hose. When they whistled without a name. When your first time hosting supper was a catastrophe. When you failed to keep certain things alive. When the housecat burrowed in your warm motor, and you just wanted to leave so badly. Funerals of people you never knew, and bugspray in your eyes. One neglected message stays: anyone can cry.

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Jun 6, 2010

Jun 6, 2010 at 1:43 PM UTC

wade-redfearn

Jericho

A little known secret of actors: you can force yourself to cry by simply thinking about how badly you want to. Here's how it's done. Start with fertilizer. Remember how you felt that first year you did so excellently at school, all-year struggling and so devoted, woke up Christmas to your mother's purchase, eager for sugar plums and hedonist things, ripped merrily into math workbooks. The seed comes next, budding in the open tunnels of self-worth - when he told you that the thing you were best used for could be done by anyone, really, the oldest profession, and how you liberated your oils on canvas long exiled to make a scene of Rahab and Joshua, and cried yourself away on alien bedding. Water it all in whatever leaves the garden hose. When they whistled without a name. When your first time hosting supper was a catastrophe. When you failed to keep certain things alive. When the housecat burrowed in your warm motor, and you just wanted to leave so badly. Funerals of people you never knew, and bugspray in your eyes. One neglected message stays: anyone can cry.

29

I'm the little housecat who hangs out with dogs plays with frogs and yarns at the shiny ball I'm the little girl who'd rather play football than volleyball and would rather not text my crush, but call I'm the old man who'd rather go swimming than watching who's line is it? or golfing tournaments. This is why I'm misunderstood by everyone they see it one-way and I see hundreds Which way is acceptable? I'm the little boy who thought he was into girls, because they called him a man but grew older to find out I love other men. I'm the art student whom everyone says that should just drop out of school take a different major, be a boss, make rules. Then discovers that without art they'd be as lost as the world of fools It would seem everyone has their own opinion about what everyone else should be, or what and how everyone should do However, each choice made. should be the choices made with you own heart. So what you want to do.

0

Feb 23, 2017

Feb 23, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC

Lunarian

Misunderstood

I'm the little housecat who hangs out with dogs plays with frogs and yarns at the shiny ball I'm the little girl who'd rather play football than volleyball and would rather not text my crush, but call I'm the old man who'd rather go swimming than watching who's line is it? or golfing tournaments. This is why I'm misunderstood by everyone they see it one-way and I see hundreds Which way is acceptable? I'm the little boy who thought he was into girls, because they called him a man but grew older to find out I love other men. I'm the art student whom everyone says that should just drop out of school take a different major, be a boss, make rules. Then discovers that without art they'd be as lost as the world of fools It would seem everyone has their own opinion about what everyone else should be, or what and how everyone should do However, each choice made. should be the choices made with you own heart. So what you want to do.

28

You were a stray now you are a housecat with your two children I remember how yesterday me and my Mamma got you and your two children in the house and closed the door I remember sitting on my chair behind the door while my Mamma lured you and your children in with tuna on a plate and milk in a bowl I was hoping. . . .waiting. . . . .praying that you and your two children would come in and you did "Now" said my Mamma which meant to close the door and I did how scared they were at first for they were not used to their new surroundings but then they calmed down after that four of our other cats were taken away which made me weep on the inside and cry on the outside my heart still bleeds from this wound and it is hard to feel happy anymore all I feel like doing is crying and then I think of Onyx Stray and her two children and her older daughter Miriam and I feel a little ease of pain in feeling happy that they're no longer out in the cold but I still feel sad in thinking about how Onyx's older son, Cookie (who was from the same litter of kitty children as Miriam) I think of how he was scared of being in that carrier and how he hollered until he calmed down and of how the papers were signed so that they could be adopted by somebody else who hopefully would treat them with kindness I remember how my Mamma wanted to keep Harold (formerly our big black cat) and how I wrongly decided that was the one she wanted to give away we cried on each other's shoulders and I asked her to forgive me for wrongly deciding by accident that was who she wanted to give away to the Humane Society tears trickle down my cheeks and my heart pains me even now while I write this poem and I think of how we gave them away ~Marian~

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Jan 25, 2013

Jan 25, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC

marian

Onyx And Her Children

You were a stray now you are a housecat with your two children I remember how yesterday me and my Mamma got you and your two children in the house and closed the door I remember sitting on my chair behind the door while my Mamma lured you and your children in with tuna on a plate and milk in a bowl I was hoping. . . .waiting. . . . .praying that you and your two children would come in and you did "Now" said my Mamma which meant to close the door and I did how scared they were at first for they were not used to their new surroundings but then they calmed down after that four of our other cats were taken away which made me weep on the inside and cry on the outside my heart still bleeds from this wound and it is hard to feel happy anymore all I feel like doing is crying and then I think of Onyx Stray and her two children and her older daughter Miriam and I feel a little ease of pain in feeling happy that they're no longer out in the cold but I still feel sad in thinking about how Onyx's older son, Cookie (who was from the same litter of kitty children as Miriam) I think of how he was scared of being in that carrier and how he hollered until he calmed down and of how the papers were signed so that they could be adopted by somebody else who hopefully would treat them with kindness I remember how my Mamma wanted to keep Harold (formerly our big black cat) and how I wrongly decided that was the one she wanted to give away we cried on each other's shoulders and I asked her to forgive me for wrongly deciding by accident that was who she wanted to give away to the Humane Society tears trickle down my cheeks and my heart pains me even now while I write this poem and I think of how we gave them away ~Marian~

13

My cat's name is Zachary Binx, and I know for a fact he could kick my *** in a fight. His claws are daggers. They are needle sharp and feather light and designed to ensnare and then shred anything his long, quick arms can ****** He is fast; he is a predator. But he has no idea, because his environment suggests otherwise. He's artificially coerced by domestication to assume that his survival is dependent on me. He is designed to survive on his own, but his cage suggests otherwise. So he contents himself to the role of the housecat, sitting on the windowsill, feeling dull pangs of inexplicable deja vu as he watches the sparrows bathe in the dirt outside.

0

May 1, 2015

May 1, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC

thetryhard

a modest observation

My cat's name is Zachary Binx, and I know for a fact he could kick my *** in a fight. His claws are daggers. They are needle sharp and feather light and designed to ensnare and then shred anything his long, quick arms can ****** He is fast; he is a predator. But he has no idea, because his environment suggests otherwise. He's artificially coerced by domestication to assume that his survival is dependent on me. He is designed to survive on his own, but his cage suggests otherwise. So he contents himself to the role of the housecat, sitting on the windowsill, feeling dull pangs of inexplicable deja vu as he watches the sparrows bathe in the dirt outside.

3

I love you... Like women's children love laughing, Like misery loves company, Like we love crying, Like women love their children... Like ladders love painters, Like brushes love canvas, Like the pen loves paper, Like the world loves Atlas... Like bitterness loves constant dwelling Like a housecat loves warm napping Like soothsayers love the act of telling Like women love their children, who love laughing.

0

Jan 5, 2011

Jan 5, 2011 at 8:27 PM UTC

ryan-bowdish

Simple Truth

I love you... Like women's children love laughing, Like misery loves company, Like we love crying, Like women love their children... Like ladders love painters, Like brushes love canvas, Like the pen loves paper, Like the world loves Atlas... Like bitterness loves constant dwelling Like a housecat loves warm napping Like soothsayers love the act of telling Like women love their children, who love laughing.

13

her fingers feathering the dark magnolia leaves stroking the foilage like it were a housecat his fingers wrapped around the taped raquet handle in a firm yet dexterous grip, waiting to enter the fray her fingers deep within the loamy soil communing with the larger whole his fingers testing the grain of the wood looking for the sweet spot, the soul her fingers raised to lips, creating a mask thoughts to the rest of the day his fingers poised above the computer awaiting the spark to flare her fingers in the tresses of his hair asking for more connection his fingers playing across the rise of her breast answering all her questions her fingers, her hands hard upon his shoulder blades seeking the length, the depth, of him his fingers, his hands on her **** fullfilling their need their fingers intertwined as they sleep....together

0

Apr 17, 2017

Apr 17, 2017 at 12:20 AM UTC

betterdays

fingertips

her fingers feathering the dark magnolia leaves stroking the foilage like it were a housecat his fingers wrapped around the taped raquet handle in a firm yet dexterous grip, waiting to enter the fray her fingers deep within the loamy soil communing with the larger whole his fingers testing the grain of the wood looking for the sweet spot, the soul her fingers raised to lips, creating a mask thoughts to the rest of the day his fingers poised above the computer awaiting the spark to flare her fingers in the tresses of his hair asking for more connection his fingers playing across the rise of her breast answering all her questions her fingers, her hands hard upon his shoulder blades seeking the length, the depth, of him his fingers, his hands on her **** fullfilling their need their fingers intertwined as they sleep....together

22

grey is the day, bleak is the heart, rough winds bellow and sadness stirs. the little blue cat, burrows under the doona, rejecting the light. i turn and leave, for work wishing i was, a little blue housecat.

0

Mar 26, 2014

Mar 26, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC

betterdays

a little blue

grey is the day, bleak is the heart, rough winds bellow and sadness stirs. the little blue cat, burrows under the doona, rejecting the light. i turn and leave, for work wishing i was, a little blue housecat.

12