"meowing" poems
Anxiety is an animal
Anxiety is a carnivorous beast
Anxiety grips onto you and doesn’t let go, digging its fangs in
Anxiety has painful fangs
Anxiety has claws (retractable)
Anxiety sits on the edge of a table, meowing morosely
Anxiety digs its claws in when it doesn’t want to do something
Anxiety reminds you it needs feeding
Anxiety hisses, bites and scratches
Anxiety eats ferociously, draining you.
Anxiety gives you disdainful looks
Anxiety reminds you it needs feeding
Anxiety has tiny fangs
Anxiety reminds you again it needs feeding
Anxiety looks down at you with its hairy body from the top shelf
Anxiety will sit with you, out of spite
Anxiety is only doing so to remind you he needs feeding
Anxiety might fall asleep
Anxiety might bite your hand while you fall asleep, he needs food
Anxiety is fed
Anxiety might possibly maybe if you-are-really-very-nice allow you to pet him.
Anxiety falls asleep
You fall asleep
Anxiety reminds you he needs feeding, loudly.
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 11:38 AM UTC
Christmas Eve was coming
There was plenty to be done
There were protocols to follow
There were programs to be run
Presents needed wrapping
Elves had duties of their own
They've been doing it for centuries
They could call Christmas in by phone
Reindeer games were scheduled
Christmas Carols to be sung
There were toys to be assembled
There were bells that must be wrung
Christmas Cakes...no problem
For we all know there's just one
It gets passed around each Christmas
And that is half the fun
But, back now to the reindeer games
Donner wasn't there
But, neither were three others
It gave Santa Claus a scare
He called the elven vet in
Said "find out what it wrong"
"If I don't have all my reindeer"
"It'll ruin Rudolph's song"
The vet came back directly
Hoof and mouth was what he said
The reindeer must miss Christmas
They were all confined to bed
Santa couldn't take it
Reindeer home...what would he do?
He thought real hard about an answer
Where would he find something that flew
The vet said, "I've an answer"
"But, no questions...just your trust"
"I'll get your gifts delivered Santa"
"I just need your magic dust"
Santa said "do your best Doctor"
"We can't have Christmas end like this"
"Are you sure you have an answer?"
"We can't give Christmas time a miss"
The vet and elves went searching
They formed a team like none before
They went around to the animals
And then they knocked on Santa's door
Santa looked at what they'd brought him
His reindeer gone, but here they stood
A team had been assembled
It made Santa sink into his hood
Harnessed up before him
The vet had two dogs and a bear
A ****** goat, and donkey
And a bald, blind cat...stood there
He smiled and said "Dear Santa"
"They may not look like that much now"
"But, they'll get you where you need to be"
"And they'll be led by a brown cow"
If you hear some noises
From your roof, like bleats and barks
Some, meowing or some mooing
And other strange sounds in the dark
Remember, it's just Santa
With his new team for the season
Rex, Rolf, Billy, Ben, Bessie, Joe, and Mike
and a bald, blind cat who's freezin'
Merry Christmas to all and to all....don't look up!!
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 8:37 PM UTC
Well, she looks like a witch,
Her pointed nose does twitch.
As she frowns upon the grocery list,
Then scrunches in a timely twist.
Bidding her straw broom,
Which she doth groom.
Hovers away into the gloom,
Over a pond she doth loom.
To frogs, rats, snakes and slime,
Quoth she, "All in good time!!"
Soon they'll be no room,
For the impending doom.
Her cauldron happily hissing,
As she adds to the seething,
Her black cat begins meowing,
After the rats, he begins running.
Slowly cooling the putrid portion,
She applies the lovely lotion.
The moles, warts and silver hair,
Disappear into thin air.
Her velvet apparel now lace,
Not a blemish does one trace.
Fondling her silky Siamese,
She heads home with ease.
To the little candy castle,
Awaiting Hansel and Gretel.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
I’ve been told by a friend to wait here.
As long as I stay here, you’ll be back past five o'clock.
I’ve waited—you came and opened the door.
It’s true; now I will dedicate my nine lives to you.
"She drinks her tea by midnight and lulls herself to sleep. You should waggle your tail and lie beside her. Every day except for Saturday." My friend laughed rigorously when she finished that statement.
“Why can’t I play with her every Saturday?” I asked her, trying to grasp her evading eyes.
"Just because," she shrugged and tried to climb the tree.
"Wait!" I hissed, but she’s nowhere to be found now.
I did everything she told me to do. Eat my food past lunch, play with my worn-out toy, and wait for her to be home.
At the exact moment the cruel sun rose and the light hit my body, I waggled my tail and lied beside her. Unfortunately, I forgot it was Saturday today.
I called her name, distinctively meowing in a weird manner. I cackled slightly; she wouldn’t understand. Biting slowly with her calloused hands and licking the side of her face, she still won’t wake up.
And I meowed until there was no sound left of me. My dear Celia, wake up, for you have to give me food now.
You still need to bathe me and play with me at the park. We’ll still wait for the night to come and watch TV.
Oh, Celia, I’d still spend my nine lives with you. Where have you been since I slept last night?
I’d still wait for you here at the table, near the window. Where the trees dance the delicacy of their sickening leaves. Oh, how we both hated the crispness of those brown leaves.
Oh, how you knew how much I hate autumn and how much I undoubtedly love the breeze of winter. The screeching of the winds and the snow falling onto the ground, where we both scrutinize its unique aspect. We were the same.
How you were covered in snowdrops, and you’d throw me inside the snowpack. I’ll hiss, and you’ll laugh.
"I told you not to play with her every Saturday," my friend whispered, almost with a faint cry. There was a hint of longing in her voice.
"You haven’t told me the answer, Ong."
"She grieves in her dreams, my friend. He visits every Saturday, spends a day with her, and goes home at exactly midnight. She’ll wake up tomorrow, bud," she answered in agony.
Who's he? " I turned to her, but she vanished once again.
Celia, I will love you for the rest of my nine lives. I’ll wait for you tomorrow. It’s okay to grieve for now.
I’d still wait for you here at the table, even though it’s autumn. We both got to accept that winter is already over.
It’s my first life with you in autumn.
Sep 9, 2023
Sep 9, 2023 at 3:10 AM UTC
Kitty kitty
Meow meow
Meowing at my bedroom door
Kitty kitty
Meow meow
Water, food, attention, more?
Little kitty
With her meow
Meowing down the minutes
'Till I get off
My cozy ***
And let the **** cat in.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
One Cuil = One level of abstraction away from the reality of a situation.
Example: You ask me for a cat.
One Cuil: If you asked me for a cat and I gave you a rhino.
Two Cuil: If you asked me for a cat, but it turns out I don't really exist. In the place where you perceived me to be standing is a picture of a large cat. On it's collar are the words: "I am a large rhino."
Three Cuil: You are a cat. You begin to scream, only to realise that you are meowing. You scratch just under your ears and begin to purr.
Four Cuil: Why are we wearing dinosaur outfits? A light breezes rolls over our bodies but you only have one arm. Suddenly, the wind begins to howl and an alternative universe is created where we are dinosaurs wearing human outfits. I have cats for arms, and as you notice this you meow again.
Five Cuil: You ask for a cat; and I give you a cat. Your pull it to your chest and begin to pet it. Your nose begins to run and you wipe it on the cats tail. On the other side of the world a bank is robbed by a woman who has 7 sisters. In her wallet is a picture of you, in your human form. Your ears are pierced in this picture and they were in your human form as well, but something is different about them. The cat purrs and grabs a hold of your earring, ripping it from your ear. Milk drips out of you wound and the lady robbing the bank is arrested. Her oldest sister is climaxing while having *** with my brother. I give you a cat and it is poisonous. I am dead.
Six Cuil: You ask me for a cat. Mark Whalberg tells me he will not **** and he hands me a cat. The cat is smoking a cigarette, I develop liver cancer. I die. The wind blows on you again and the cat does not have a left rear leg. It puts its cigarette out on my eye. MGMT plays softly and you meow to the moon which is a pizza. The pizza has olives on it which displeases you. Your displeasure causes the woman to rob the bank so she can buy you Hawaiian pizza. The gravitational pull of the olives causes a flood to reach your house. You cry and your tears become lakes. The Earth is flooded. Uranus ignites suddenly, engulfing Neptune in flames. A civilization of Nicolas Cage's living there are destroyed. Obi Wan says that there has been a disturbance in the force. A cat hands you me.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 2:56 AM UTC
Waking breath ghostly frozen, clang of pot-belly stove opening, cedar crackles good morning, sap sizzles, pops, melting. Warmth finds children sleeping, humid air, mouth-breathing. Smell of boy sweat and feet, young women ripely sweet.
Cats purring, stirring, padding quiet down stairs, weave meowing through mom's legs. Dented percolator burbles better days, snap of toast burned haze, molten mush bubbles burst, fade. Birds early on the highway Paradise-seeking, time, flash-burned, fleeting. Cobalt jay mockingly complains, chickadee sings his own name, coyote wails, thin and plain.
Children rise, sleep in their eyes, squabble over bathroom prize, eldest wins, click, locks herself in. Hurry, hurry the bus is coming, ancient driver, annoyed and honking. Brown-bag lunches crinkled running, feet slapping, seats squeaking, lungs hot and bursting. Ride the dawn breaking, hearts aching for more than this, rural bliss.
Stop sign flashes caution, young lovers in the back seat, bodies in motion. Stop, start, sway on down the highway. Engine mimics hot blood lust, accelerated diesel rush, nothing can stop us. You grab my knee - young, carefree. Brakes sigh and hiss, sneak one last kiss. You mouth - meet me later, we'll sneak out, rush to a future we haven't got, ready or not.
The old road at dusk, frog song accompanies us, bike wheels on the asphalt hum, forbidden moonlight run. Feel your heartbeat on my spine, frantic drumming matching mine. Horned owl hoots, forlorn and bleak, a premonition we refuse to heed, reckless with need. In the clearing young love begins, forget-me-knots on burning skin.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
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
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC
If you asked me the question:
“what’s the one thing you want to do before you die?”
I’d say I want to meet the cat who lives outside.
The cat that meows day and night.
The cat that keeps his face out of sight.
The one that will cause the biggest commotion
But will look with wonder and aw with the most precious notion.
The kitty that yells out that people aren't clean.
Meowing at everything but is never seen.
The one who hisses when he doesn't know I’m listening.
I can’t help but listen to the things he knew.
It’s the only thing I have the power to do.
The very few times I've seen him,
He never looks the same.
I don’t know what he looks like
I only know his name.
I wish I knew the way he appears
The way he laughs, or cries, or stressed, or in fear.
All I can do is guess from what I hear.
He talks about leaving.
So long I would be grieving.
Places too far away for me to see him.
Too far for me to do anything.
He might look at me and be grim.
But all I ask for is a chance
A chance see who that cat really is.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
Hey, elegant cat,
you think you can
rest there sitting so prim and well-brought up
and think I’ll bring you some sparrows I catch
on from the tree-top?
You got to move your **** brother;
Sparrows don’t fall off trees like ripe fruit
for you to pick from the ground, you know.
Or maybe you don’t know.
And I’m not going to be doing the work
for you, wild cat and friendless as I am.
I live on my own, catch my own sparrows
and eat my own dinner
and lick my lips and I sleep under the shade of the tree
when my tummy’s full
and sure, that’s all I care about
getting my daily meals.
And not even in your wildest dreams, hey well-washed cat,
not even in your wildest dreams
do I have desire to share bird meat and bones with anyone
and especially not with an elegant rich-home cat like you…
Well, you can have the feathers, if you like.
Now really, how did a nice cat like you get lost?
Is this your day out or what?
Some kind of an expedition day?
You want a sparrow to eat?
Get your fat **** here up the tree
with as much stealth as you can
and catch yourself one!
And you stupid cat from comfy rooms
having sat your **** on soft cushions all your life –
stop meow-meowing with hunger! – you’ll scare the birds away,
you unnatural, unnatural domesticated cat!
You know, you’d be better off using your powers of sight
and finding your way back
from wherever you came from and get back
to mummy’s home asap.
Go stand under some lamp post where they might have a
Cuddly Cat Lost sign
and someone might bring you to your owner for a reward.
No way you going to survive in the open, brother!
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 10:33 AM UTC
this is a fine morning and the man in the bathroom mirror smiles
though he admittedly isn't the friendliest person but honestly
he seemed genuinely glad to be awake and alive on such an Autumn day
with the birds chirping and the window near the kitchen slightly ajar
allowing safe passage to a nice chill breeze. he finds the cat up as well
meowing "Good morning!" cheerfully and innocently in its tiny cat voice
and he chuckles and meows back in the most accurate manner available.
on the kitchen table there's a mug of coffee, the newspaper rolled like a cigar,
a plate of waffles, bacon, scrambled eggs and powdered happiness which
the man gobbles wholeheartedly while reading the day's fresh headlines:
President Declares Peace on Earth, Local Man Defeats Dog - Gives Too Many Treats,
Cop Buys Medical Lemonade From Child's Lemonade Stand, World Hunger Exterminated...
permitting the felines to rule our existence was truly the best of ideas!
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
*Like the stormy wind in a sunlit day
You always love to contradict me.
I tell you stories of monsters,
You transfigure them into angels
With your wand of positivity.
You tie my sadness in moonbird’s wings
And let it fly out of my earth.
Sitting amidst the emotional chiaroscuro
You play with soft words,
Paint new songs in your album,
Mimic the meowing of your honeyed kitten.
I sit back and wonder,
How do every time I witness sunrise
Whenever you let me walk deep
Into the core of your eyeballs.
And when I ask you the definition of life,
You unfold your slender arms
Like a Pegasus, and reply,*
***“It’s about transforming from
One Avatar to another.”***
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
They throw down cash,
throw back shots, and
throw me business cards
at lunch break —
Sardines wearing
headphones who ride the
same express train
everyday,
in between sardines
wearing headphones
who ride the same express train
everyday,
in between sardines
wearing headphones
who ride the same express train
that stops at Lincoln
and Broadway,
everyday.
Wasting Brooklyn nights
for noisey lights till trash time.
Stinky sticky street
walk home past
empty bars
to Hugo meowing
down the door
for new litter.
But I am so tired.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
Who shall remain to speak of Eden sleeping?
When gone the earth, our splendid garden
left of backward dreaming
and all the glorious twisty tendril reaches
vines to cling to life, anew the greening seasons
Alone the fields in September shades, grains
of wheat and rye will not play, of fall's refraining
or sing the cat birds strange meowing
Once rows and rows, the fields flowed,
fed heavenly our daily bread
before the GMOs
Unearthly - sick the flocks afield
no bees about, the headless flowering yields
all the gifts, the seeds of life cannot be found again
we've decimated Eden
http://www.greenmedinfo.com/blog/dows-deadly-harvest-return-agent-orange
There's hope:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6P03nNeYiJo&feature;=related
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 10:13 PM UTC
Are things really as they seem to be ? ......He was trying to explain his vision to a friend, who was listening with a Bent ear, that kept some of the Truth from entering into the ear canal and properly vibrating the ear drum. Thereby, making for a somewhat distorted message .. And the "Stirring-Vision" was explained and detailed as follows: "There was this dog I had, that instead of Barking , it meowed and wanted out in the Middle of the Night. And,there was this Cat I had, that instead of meowing, it Barked and it wanted to jump up on people and wag it's tail. There was this horse I had, that instead of wanting to come into the Barn at night, it preferred to lay in the Mud-Wallow. And, there was this Hog I had, that instead of Oinking and wanting slop for food, would try to jump the fence to get to the Salt-Lick.. There was this Rooster I had, that instead of crowing in the early morning, it let out Bleats and desired to chew on cans. And, there was this goat I had, that instead of wanting to climb everything, spent most of its day in the Hen house , as if it were an egg inspector. There was this Parrot I had, that instead of repeating words that were taught to him, simply called out .."Please Milk Me". And , there was this cow I had, that instead of wanting to have a peaceful day of chewing it's Cud, spent almost all the waking hours, Repeating every word it had ever heard. Then, I saw this snake , crawling away into the tall grass, trying to get away before it was discovered. Yes, there's something about snakes, just always trying to change things. Slithering away, as blame on changes, goes to another as he claims his credits !
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 8:10 AM UTC
You frown, I frown.
What obligates you?
And to I-why?
Do not we dote;
the elongation
of our tumultuous spirit?
Like a waterfall in pursuit of a sea,
Like weary eyes in need of lubrication,
Like a meowing kitten craving for milk.
Suffice is not.
Ere we beseech serenity
-an equilibrium.
O speak,
From your deepest well
-gay or remorse.
For a mirror, I am not.
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 10:08 AM UTC
King of the park is my little paper lion
he struts his stuff like he owns the world
prowls and growls
rubbing and snubbing
while he eats from is little pink bowl
But he is KING!!
king in his own back yard
his eyes amber and black
as he stealthily creeps
beautifully lean
prowling unseen
dangerously mean
ever so fluffy
and oh so virile
so powerful too
leaving his mark
rubbing the bark
so very King!
*'So watch me human,
watch me be magnificent
as i pounce on this butterfly'*
"yes.. you are a magnificient derp nugget"
Oh but he does have a nasty streak
attack and retreat
spitting and clawing
meowing and mawing
as his grey fur stands on end
and bristles
like a bottle brush
and the lazy lion thing
is lazily lounging
after a busy night on the town
spreading his affection
in every direction
he is now king of the chair
king of the cushion
he is declared triumphantly
throughout the land
fanfare please
"THE SOFA KING .. all hail the SOFA KING!"(annoying feline)
oh dear.. my little paper lion..
believing he is king
king of the jungle
'But i am king!
aren't i human?
okay well,
just of the park maybe
but i am a little bit king- ish.... aren't i?'
silly little pouty McWhiskerface
what a pity
fluffy little kitty
just make your self pretty
pouting and sulking
"Now that is no way for a king to behave
now let me fluff your cushion
while you drink your milk and eat your Dreamies"
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
a shredded bath mat, a Dead Sea salted bath, and a cold root beer
you want vino veritas vignettes,
color commentary, stray dog thoughts
time lapsed into a ****** single poem wood,
ha ha ha you can't handle the falsified lies
that constitute a sad man's disfigured truths
nobody cares that failure contretemps
inhabit every other thought,
his own sounds of silence sung repetitiously,
every severed second a new verse
coughed up and cursed,
emptying your verbal purse,
snorting with disgust
at your own claptrap vetted pomposity,
who gives a ****
what I got is the ability
if you can call it that,
to cerebralize verbalize
every eye picture, inputted impulse,
knowing in the fullness of the unwell
that hash for breakfast ain't
suitable for mass consumption
a shredded bath mat,
a Dead Sea salted bath,
and a cold root beer
begat a poem of knowing nowing
a pretend poet meowing what he seen,
what he got temple pounding
Fogelberg sings Auld Lang Syne,
swig down the root beer,
thinking that is one freaking good song,
a life reviewed on the HP stage,
his lyrics modified
with only a tune he can hear
no one will like this,
as it should be,
don't like it me neither,
double negatives for rule busting emphasis,
the only point, ending circumscribed,
curcumsized by children who don't love,
an ex wife hateful ***** man-enslaver,
this close || to losing your job,
*** is the new ***
ain't it pc
to singalong
standing on a shredded bath mat,
fresh from a Dead Sea salted bath,
and having drunk a cold root beer,
Crosby Stills & Nash chiming in
*teach the children well
their father's hell
will slowly go bye*
and this is a poem
that I didn't write,
just reported the here and the there,
and the nothing in between
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
And one cold fall day
The cats come out to play
As the cold wind whips
The cats purr and lick
Roaming through the narrow streets
Meowing cats black and sleek
On top of still cars
Content and undisturbed so far
Running and jumping and whipping their tails
Climbing rails and making trails
A cold breeze nips their noses
As they sniff around for roses
But all that's in the air
Is a cold fall breeze bare
Bitter and freezing
But the cats continue scheming
Unaware of their effect in large numbers
They run out of the way of motors
On that cold fall day
That the cats come out to play
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
I've been told
not to feel
if I can help it
not to deal
with pressing bothers
but they scrape at me like pernicious elves
with honed candy canes,
made spear-like to stick in my guts
and stay there
I've been told to
watch out!
time creeps up and then you're forty
love dries up and then you're forty
crisises emerge and the spear holds itself sturdy
and all you've known is to go numb;
when the spear comes,
go numb;
babies will **** on their thumbs
and you will go numb
I have a cat now
it came with the house I am renting
it's grey and it stares
into my soul like it knows there's a hole
and doesn't stop staring until I close my bedroom door
but it sits outside on the floor
meowing for more
scratching to be let in, to dig her nails in my skin
and tell me with those cunning eyes
*life's not out to get you
but it doesn't mean you won't hurt inside
it doesn't mean the hole in your soul
will be patched, mended or filled or made whole
anytime soon
and sometimes it's just too hard to get out of bed
before noon
but still, you should try or I'll scratch you, deep in
my nails are like spears and you don't know where else
they have been*
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
The radio is so loud;
My father's voice sounds
Like thunder.
The car is too squeaky;
The cat meowing sounds
Like an obnoxious alarm.
My own thoughts are too noisy;
My voice sounds
Like waves pounding on the shore.
It's like someone turned my
Sensitivity levels all the way up;
Like some form of torture.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 11:06 PM UTC
Meowing through the fields
Frolicking through the meadows
Blackie won the race
Apr 21, 2012
Apr 21, 2012 at 11:08 AM UTC
Opening up to Monday
I unwrapped myself from the duvet
Pasted my limbs to the floor
Slippers winked at me
Invitingly, I settled my feet into their snugness
As I stood, I was thankful that today
Is Monday, wonderful Monday
Free as a song bird to create
My own melody, a chorus of hurrah
I caught up with the shower
On hot house temperature
Scorching...I fumbled for the cool
Climate, turning it sufficiently to
Bathe and recycle myself
As I stroked the cat meowing
A feline opera, making her presence known
The outside world had a dismal feel
The window onto the day told me so
Yet, blue escorted the clouds
Pushing the doubting rain packages
To another realm
Introducing the blue yonder that
Had won the day
We all gathered up into the aroma
Of a new week, stretched our
Arms towards one another
I joined the links for a few hours
Tattooing their conversation into my
Subconscious indelibly
Unhooking ourselves we separated
Turning towards the duties of the day
Swiftly we deposited out parting gifts
Hugs
Kisses
Our best
Our loving wishes
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC