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betterdays Apr 2014
Munster was his name,
after Herman Munster
of TV fame cause,
he was so big.
But not scary, feral big,
just double dose of cat big.

He was predominately
sleek, shiny black,
with a white bib
and crooked muzzle,
like he had his moustache
painted on in a hurry.
Oh, and he had one white paw.
Poppajack used to say,
he had been caught by God
stealing cream.

Munster was sleek, sinuous
muscle,
he rippled when he walked.
In stalk mode he was, panther incarnate.
Albeit, dressed in a tuxedo.

In cat term's he was vain,
always preening, or finding
a vantage point to show
himself off to the best photographic angle.

But just occasionly,
if we were lucky
and the butterflys
were on the wing,
he would, kitten prance
like a pixie, at the birth of spring.

He was a hunter,
not of bugs and lizards.
A ratter of renown,
he could take a bird
from it's early flight
without a care.
I once saw him, come home
and drop a rabbit,
at Poppajacks feet, before
finding the evening sun
for a well earned nap.

Munster loved Poppajack,
with dedicated flair
would follow him about
the garden, bulter-like,
dignified tail, straight and tall.
They would parade
in regal state,
to check on the vegetable serfdom.

He was not a cat of lap,
but,would sprawl over Poppa's feet like,
black satin slippers
with a purring engine beat.

Majestic Moggy Munster,  was felinetity in it's prime.
MARK RIORDAN Feb 2017
THE LONELY KITTY

I AM A STRAY KITTY
PLEASE DON'T LET ME ROAM
I NEED A LOVING FAMILY
AND A PLACE TO CALL HOME


I HAVE BEEN ROAMING THE STREETS
SO VERY LATE AT NIGHT
ALL THE PUPPIES BARK AT ME
AND GIVE ME A FRIGHT

THE DOGGY MOGGY

A CAT IS A KITTY
A DOG IS A DOGGY
A DOG IS NOT A CAT
AND A CAT CAN BE A MOGGY

A CAT IS CUDDLY
A DOG IS CUTE
BUT WHEN BOTH ARE TOGETHER
IT IS A REAL HOOT
MY NEW BOOK " MY CAT AND I " 50 POEMS ON CATS HERE ARE A FEW
Olivia Kent Dec 2013
The ginger Tom.
He started to wail.
As the winsome ***** willow swung on his tail.
The black lass became rather familiar.
Made friends with the witch who lived over the hill.
Gave moggy pal a sharp shot of contraceptive in her ***.
Didn't want familiar friend to become a mum.

Tom,
Well my dear friends,
Tom never wanted a wife.
Just be a player all of his life.

Thought all his queens were just trouble and strife.
He'd take what he could whenever chances arose.
The tom cat who wasn't wanting romance,
Just left an aroma wherever he went.
Perhaps all his queens need a peg on their nose!






By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Poetic T May 2015
The little vacuum wished it would
Grow up and be like its cousin, the
Bag less wonder, he could clean
Places where others couldn,t dream
Of, he was the three wheeled wonder,
The little vacuum wanted to be like
So much and more.

He was taken out of his box twice a
Week, his mother was the toaster his
Dad was a fridge, she made him toasty,
But he gave her the shivers, but in a
Good way my family are like others for sure.

Buttons pressed on and off, his hose was
His nose all kinds of things he sniffed up
From crumbs to socks. But the smell always
Blocked his nose and he did sneeze, out
Come the sock, dust and all, where once
Their was clean carpet there was dust and
Mouldy apple core.

Was it the sock or the apple moldy with
Colour of boggy green and rottern black,
How long had that been inside rotting at
His core. He felt not so good, every time
Turned on he would blow a cloud of dust,
Not ******* it back.

He was down, his hose was not at its best,
He felt like he,d ****** up a cactus, and
The taste was like a soggy moggy or the
Stinkest cheese mixed with a wet sock could
You imagine that.

His mother said you need to keep toasty,
His dad gave him the cold shoulder and
Said son man up, that was the end of that.


So they took him out of the box, thoughts
Went through the little vacuums switch,
Would he end up like uncle larry. He was
A proud drill but one day he could keep it
In, it feel out they said a ***** was lose, that
Was the end of that. Last I heard he was
Recycled, his parts now used everywhere
Scary is that.

So I was lifted out, my nose off it came they
Were washing it under the tap,They opened
Me up to look inside, I felt air in my insides
A weird feeling is that, a bag they took out
Looking worse for wear, had that been inside
Me since they had first unboxed me, gross they
Said was it me I thought, but it was the bag in fact.

They were gentle as they washed my insides,
It tickled me I let out a giggle, they looked at
Each other was that you, not me could have
Been the cat.

Refreshed I felt as they put my hose on
I could breath once more and fresh scents,
Not the smell of a wet moogy, how much
Better was that. A new bag they put in me,
Then closed the cap, I waited for the switch,
Nothing happened, was I to be like uncle
Larry, but they hadnt plugged me in how
Silly is that.

So a whoosh and a sound and I sounded great,
I felt like I was new out the box, so proud was
I, that I cleaned the whole house in record time
In fact. So this is my tail of the little vacuum,
Who was under the weather, but if he,d only
Washed regularly but he cant be blamed for that.

He was a happy and knew one day he would
Grow up to be like his bagless cousin and
Make his dad chill out be proud of him, his
Mother she was already proud of what he did
Around the house.
mark jarrad Oct 2010
You are not my master
But you are my friend
And just because you love me
My time with you i'll spend
You can call me moggy
Or if you like just .. cat
And i will sit beside you
Or by the fire , on the mat
I can't promise not to make a mess
Or not to bother you
But mostly i just sleep allday
Thats what i like to do
And when it comes to evening time
Thats when i like to play
And when i'm feeling hungry
Meow' to you i'll say
No .. you are not my master
But you are my friend
And as long as you will love me
My time with you i'll spend.
Olivia Kent May 2014
She opened her eyes early this morning,
Her hand smoothing Betty's *****,
It writhed and wriggled at the touch of her hand,
It was very, very fluffy.
She loved the feeling of the human hand,
Her best friends moggy, made no demands.
(C) Livvi
betterdays Sep 2014
i come home
to
a mexican standdoff
of
sorts

on the inside
of
the window
the
little blucat
with
firebrush tail
and
arched back

facing off against

the big
busterfer jones
tom
from 3 doors
down

black
and white
persian
moggy
more than
twice
the size
of gus blucat


pressed
up
against
the outside
of the glass

normally
the
best of buds
but
there is
a
new girl
in town
and
she sings
a siren song

so it is
bared claw
at 3 paces

as i
put down
my keys
there is a
muted
thump,
thump.

they have
rushed
each other

forgeting
the magic
of glass

and now
as i
finish
r.o.l.f.ing

i see
they
have
retired
to their corners

with that
was'nt me
that did that
dumb thing
look

as they
wash their
paws
with backs
speaking volumes
and eyes still
crossed.
both cats are neutered
but still
in spring they dream....
I look at my home
At my furry friends in pictures
Who have shared my life
At different times
In different places
The feisty moggy who lived until twenty years
To annoy and perplex
But most of all to beguile
And my dusky shy little feline girl
Who left too soon with just her place in my heart
My dogs who lived with from youth too old age
And left me together unable to survive without each other
My own years are measured in these pictures
From sadness to smiles
And back again
What new friends of a soft and pet-like persuasion
Will share my hope and sorrows next
For surely the next is in sight.
Pets are optional too: can I resist.
Olivia Kent Jul 2015
The fabric owl.
Eyes wide open.
Deep in thought.
He really ought to do something to escape.
He's rather old.
Doesn't want to be caught.
Not up to flying away.
Can't anyway.
His wings are stitched.
Ginger mate sat next to him.
Eyeing him up.
He's thinking.
The moggy that is.
He supposed to chase birds.
Isn't he?
Who's going to make the first move?
Old fabric owl.
Her bedside company, since childhood.
When days weren't stressful.
Always good.
Vicki's loyal confidante
Around longer than Ginger Tomas.
Tomas looks and thinks and thinks some more.
Thinking that Mortimer, the owl that is.
Must be very bored never moves a muscle.
Doesn't go anywhere, ever.
Tomas wants to play.
Mortimer, well he's not up for it today.
Just wants to sleep some more.
Listen very closely.
You may even hear him snore.
(c) Livvi
My friend sent me a photo of a toy owl fabric owl and a cat..ths is the poem I wrote about it x
Andrew Frazer May 2018
What is the gulf
Between moggy
And doggy?

Why is it that
The cat
Is an autocrat?

And the hound
Is renowned
As nice to have around?

Some people make a beeline
For the feline

Others show elation
On ‘spotting’ a Dalmatian

Though each may rejoice
In their choice

The cat will embrace
His rightful place
Above the human race
The Mouser          
            
I friend of mine has an old moggy she says
help her to write successful books about suburban life,
big gardens and flowers; envious I tried to find
A cat had seen one outside the apartment building.
grabbed it and scratched but when I hit the pus
over the head with a stone until it lies still in my hands.
Next morning I fed it and gave it water the tabby had
left a pile on my Persian rug, while cleaning the mess
The feline sent an email to the protection of animals
and signed it with a paw, this incensed me so much
I threw the cat out.
A knock on my door it was the cat people about an email
I have no cat; they sniffed around not convinced, left.
In the evening a scratching on my door I knew it was
the ****** moggy, people knock on doors, opened it
slightly told it to *******, you said on me!
The cat said it was hungry and had nowhere to sleep,
but shut the door in its face I heard it take the lift down.
Next day I found the cat sleeping in a card box in
the garage I reversed the car to scare it, but it ran out
spat: “I will report you, you heartless brute.”
Clouds on Dreams
To believe what we see is often a fallacy on a video
a rat attacked a cat; the moggy scared ran away but was it so
I think not video and pictures can be doctored so we are
left with a sceptical mind
Yet in the Sahara, I saw in the sky a ship sailing upside down
I know what I saw yet it was a mirage so therefore I can
talk about it without being made fun of like the day I saw
a flying elephant it was slow and met a crocodile
that loved me, of course, it was a mirage
That is why I'm fearless telling you this; you will think mirages,
was whisky involved?
There mere suggestion will send me into a rage and I will
never speak to you again.
The cat ashamed, turned around and killed the rat, just in case
you were curious. In the world, the strongest win just looks to Brazil  
and what the heck was I doing in the Sahara?
Lizzie Bevis Nov 3
Whiskers twitching, sharp and keen,  
prowling silently, slinking, unseen.  
With curious eyes, so alert and bright,  
investigating all within their sight.  
So lithe and nimble, quick to pounce,  
on playful paws as they bat and bounce.  
A skilful mouser, stealthy predator,  
a beast of surprise and graceful wonder.  
Yet gentle too,
when snuggled up having a nap,  
curled up and content in my cosy lap.  
As comforting purrs soothe my weary soul,  
making me feel loved, at peace and whole.  
My treasured companion and loyal friend,  
Aloof yet loving, wild yet tamed,  
my mysterious moggy a master of might,
endlessly captivating me with pure delight.

©️Lizzie Bevis
For my cat Timmy.
He's pretty awesome…but I would say that wouldn’t I?!
Cats
We are looking
after a cat
it is white and yellowish.
I feed it and clean
the litter box.
The catwalks around mewing
and shedding hair
on sofas and beds.
I hate the ******* cat it is
not friendly, sometimes the cat
go on the veranda on
the seventh floor
and it isn't falling down.
I like a dog can bond with it
take it for a walk and they will not
hide in empty boxes
or in your cupboard.
The lady ‘cat owner
will come and pick up the moggy
her little wonder
today and it will not be missed.
Ryan O'Leary May 2019
&#$ if one presses
the capital button
whilst writing 734.

I prefer &#$, it has
a **** connotation
since # is symbolic.

Jacob Rees Mogg
should write about
the cat @ number 10.

Mogg on Moggy
(the kitty letter)
by Jacob Rees Mug.


ps.

His book sold a mere
734 copies.
Ryan O'Leary Apr 2022
Rees Moggy

There is no need for night,
Everyone knows that, the
Technology has been here
Since Edison’s discovery.

The reason governments
Continue with darkness is
For MP’s to exploit the law
They sleep during the day.
Gerry Sykes Dec 6
McKenzie sat, the feral cat
a ginger tom, a ***** brat,
he’s on the slab, he's at the vet,
he's innocent of the threat;
as scalpel steel –prepares to lop
his precious assets – for the chop.

He smirks and thinks of bowls of cream.
An instrument now stops his dream
while measuring his body’s heat:
a gross insult to his seat
that turns his grin into a pout
as he pushes the probe out.

This wicked cat – who seems serene,
his outward visage  looks so clean
external dirt can never stick,
but succumbing to his lick
it passes through that moggy’s gut
and out of an unblemished ****.

The player fears the game is up
he sees the proffered poisoned cup,
now he's exposed: the ***** rat.
Dies Irae for that cat –
the stoneless subject of our mirth –
as ball-less he departs the Earth.
A metaphor for ****** politicians, hoping they get their reward. The rhythm of this poem is meant to be like two bars of music or two pulses in a line. The beat on the last stresses syllable of the bar. There needs to be a pause in the middle and the end of each line.
A morning moment

The owner of a black cat
Sits on a chair by the open door, on the shady side of the road
Reading yesterday’s paper.
The moggy opens its eyes they are like a creamy zabaglione
When I walk past.
The feline sees me then closes its eyes again.
The owner of the cat gets up with tail *****
Marches into the house
The door closes
The man starts up his scooter drive off in a haze of sunlight.
She has two cats
She goes to the shops every day
Buy them a tin each

I know her game,
And excuse getting out of the house
I go to the shop too

But I have no cats
I look at the expensive wine
Buy the cheap one.

Lucky moggy lady
You don’t hear they complaining
Too many cans.

— The End —