"tabby" poems
A bee with innards spilling
A lost tabby,
A blimp caught up in trees,
Tintern Abbey.
The gravestone of a lover,
A drowning ship,
An NHS delivery of
Fortisip.
A girl with alopecia and
Fungail nails,
A one legged pigeon,
Exploding whales.
Ivy choked churches,
Merlot tongues,
Parrots plucking feathers,
Marlboro lungs.
Girls locked up in attics,
*** toys.
Boys punching girls
And punching boys.
Babies crowning
Fussed about like kings.
Darlings,
You shall see such pretty things.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots.
All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat;
She sits and sits and sits and sits—and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat!
But when the day’s hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat’s work is but hardly begun.
And when all the family’s in bed and asleep,
She tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep.
She is deeply concerned with the ways of the mice—
Their behaviour’s not good and their manners not nice;
So when she has got them lined up on the matting,
She teachs them music, crocheting and tatting.
I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots.
All day she sits beside the hearth or on the bed or on my hat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits—and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat!
But when the day’s hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat’s work is but hardly begun.
As she finds that the mice will not ever keep quiet,
She is sure it is due to irregular diet;
And believing that nothing is done without trying,
She sets right to work with her baking and frying.
She makes them a mouse—cake of bread and dried peas,
And a beautiful fry of lean bacon and cheese.
I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
The curtain-cord she likes to wind, and tie it into sailor-knots.
She sits upon the window-sill, or anything that’s smooth and flat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits—and that’s what makes a Gumbie Cat!
But when the day’s hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat’s work is but hardly begun.
She thinks that the cockroaches just need employment
To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment.
So she’s formed, from that lot of disorderly louts,
A troop of well-disciplined helpful boy-scouts,
With a purpose in life and a good deed to do—
And she’s even created a Beetles’ Tattoo.
So for Old Gumbie Cats let us now give three cheers—
On whom well-ordered households depend, it appears.
4.2k
’Twas on a lofty vase’s side,
Where China’s gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow,
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima, reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.
Her conscious tail her joy declared;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,
Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She saw; and purred applause.
Still had she gazed; but ’midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The genii of the stream:
Their scaly armour’s Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view
Betrayed a golden gleam.
The hapless nymph with wonder saw:
A whisker first, and then a claw,
With many an ardent wish,
She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?
What cat’s averse to fish?
Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretched, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between:
(Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled)
The slippery verge her feet beguiled,
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood
She mewed to ev’ry wat’ry god
Some speedy aid to send.
No dolphin came, no nereid stirred;
Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard.
A fav’rite has no friend!
From hence, ye beauties undeceived,
Know, one false step is ne’er retrieved,
And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wand’ring eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize;
Nor all that glisters, gold.
3.6k
I find myself...
mesmerized,
by family photographs,
whose subjects all are...
dead...
the great aunt smiling,
frozen in mid-song,
the little boy squirming,
in her lap,
the tabby cat on the floor,
watching them both
intently...
all eyes looking,
frozen in mid-stare...
their actions,
frozen in mid-time...
those very vibrant,
living loves...
gone...
forever
(C)2014, Christos Rigakos
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Tabby cat in yard—
Petals and thorns, creeping rose,
. . . Tiger in the grass.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
Creased felines crossing lines,
Pressing claws into dust.
Western hemisphere,
Reviving the pilgrimage.
Bubbles and logs
Satiate their under garments.
Enhancing hair follicles
Resembling shards and spurs.
At a woodsy bar,
A tabby liberated the fangs
He rented last holiday.
The bartender shook with perplexity.
Reacting simultaneously-
A minor character, Little Leon.
The dusty town called him
Leon, for he was alone.
Little Leon got taller
In a basement full
Of water. The dusty town
Was an adjustment.
The tabby and Little Leon
Faced off for recognition.
Leon wretchedly charged
The floor boards with sopping ends.
Crayon versus colored pencil;
They chose their weapons
Anxiously. It was
Bring your son to work day.
The bent bartender
Spared his child’s eyes.
“I’m not your little boy,”
The child shrilled at him.
“I don’t want trains,
Or fake guns meant for play.
I miss my mom,
And dresses on Sunday.”
Cats on a pilgrimage,
Rarely stop from
Slurping a drink. Pity refilled
Cups, as tails twitched in trial.
The tabby and Leon
Came to a halt, seeing as
Punishment was engraved atop
The bartender’s grungy mitts.
The clowder gathered,
As the Tabby scolded the man
Behind the bar. “Remember where
you leave your beverage.”
And that was that.
Leon’s internal complexity,
Being left with only himself,
Dissipated. There are others
Who feel more alone.
Tabby picked up his crayon.
His spurs clanked
And spun, as his guided
His feline friends out the front.
Tumbleweed skidded
Outside the bar.
The bartender finally saw
That his son was not a son.
Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
.
"That there Is'belle's house stinks wunderful turr'ble,"croaked Emma Beiler at their quilting bee.
"Jah...vell," sighed Rosanna Yoder. "All them there katzes , ain't so?"
Accordingly the two ladies set out to pay Travis and Isabella Salter a visit, only to be politely told that they had were in the process of taking some cats to a local shelter.
Two weeks passed and to the Amish folks' disgust the odour had merely intensified.
"Them there Englisch are chust liars!" Potato Sam spat the words out along with a *** of chewing tobacco.
" Ach, vell," sighed his wife Rosanna, unaware of her heavily sweating underarms. The Ordnung strictly forbade deodorant as well as perfume. "Reckon I best mosey over and see fur myself."
Travis opened the door with a tired sigh.
'Chust thought I'de ask vhat fur stinks yer house up so vonderful tur'ble...Izzy tells us youse gettin' rid of them but-"
A puzzled look crossed Travis weary face as he glanced toward the kitchen. Irritation gripped him, not lessened as Rosanna glowered at Tabby washing her face on the couch. Then a waft of a familiar scent, overpowering, drifted toward him from the kitchen. Brussel sprouts enhanced by -.
With all the stress, Isabelle was increasing her calming herbs, mixing the powders.... Valerian?
"Good evening, Mrs. Yoder." He motioned her toward the door, locking it firmly behind her. For a long time after she was gone he stood staring out the window.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
We take a shortcut
through the narrow walkways
of the old village
across the cobblestones
and by the white-washed tabby wall
to the waterside where slave ships
once plied their trade
My dog lingers nose down
as if each stone has a story to tell
and ***** an ear to the wall
where the auctions were held
She looks at people differently now.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:12 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
Smoothly, she slinks onto the window sill,
silky body settling before tall pane of glass;
Outside, the city’s down and out
Outside, the city’s golden light
and darkest dark.
She curls,
long tail around slick body
and stares out
for the one who stares back.
Tonight,
It’s an empty window opposite,
A single frame of
oh, what her life could be.
She’s never seen more
doesn’t yearn to,
Just for her amore
her golden tabby love.
Ah, there he is,
a pounce atop window sill;
he stares at her
who stares back
his joli chat noir (pretty black cat).
But it’s all too soon
when she’s wrapped in arms too smooth
and a voice,
lacking feline’s purr
slurs,
“Ah, puppy love, Rosette.
It’s all just puppy love.”
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 2:49 PM UTC
Somewhere,
drones are dropping mortars on top of sleeping men. All the while the trusted corrupt are telling their truths to people grabbing what's left. Snow storms and summer droughts are no longer an event. While the world is changing in ways we already predicted, we choose to focus on why we're not the bad guys in this story. All of this, reinforced by the woke who are telling me nothing really matters anymore.
But right here,
I'm sitting alone on a winter night. I look across the street to watch a scruffy tabby knock over a dusty jar left on someone's window sill. Glass shatters across the lawn held tight by a blanket of untouched snow. I watch the shards cast miniature shadows, glistening as the porch light turns on. It was only for a moment, though, before I continue my attempt at writing about the beautiful things in life. Attempting - because these days it's difficult; because it matters. It matters to me oh so much.
Feb 13, 2023
Feb 13, 2023 at 1:32 AM UTC
the further life progresses
the more it beams stresses
the more I yearn for peace
a road with no holes or grease
a broken siblinghood
I now yearn for Paraclete
my faith in humans deplete.
so bring tonight the gleaming dream
of a furry friend who understood
the erase button of esteem
and so my dreams flow like whipped cream
in the starry starry nights of what would seem
like orange cats make the best friends
tabby kings and big boy mends
the tears of mine dear feline heart
....
or a hustling panting brown eyed brook,
a long nosed lad reads like book
who smells and licks my aching heart.
....
my colourbook waits to be filled with love
of furry lives from each colour above.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 12:59 PM UTC
Cassie the Cat and Riley the Rat
knew their love could never be
Cassie knew that he was just a plaything
Riley admired how she could climb a tree
Cassie thought he was too cute
and Riley truly loved that mangy cat
They understood the ups and downs
defying the intermingled species trap
One night while Cassie was prowling the fence
with Riley snuggled atop of her soft fur
Billy the Bat ranged overhead
following them silently, undeterred
Watching Cassie and Riley share their love
being born of the night, Billy wanted that
They’d defied the intermingled species trap
He wanted that for himself, but, who’d love a bat?
Angered by his thoughts that bought about self pity
he sought out the Animal Gods
he told them about Cassie and Riley
Horrified, they sent out the Dogs
Damon Dog was their most elite destroyer
His mission was to ensure that Cassie Cat
would be integrated back into her own species
and he was to just dispose of the rat
Damon silently stalked Cassie and Riley
as they lay tucked together, Damon did pounce
as Riley leapt in front of his mangy cat, to protect
Damon, at that moment, his mission he did renounce
Damon had witnessed their love, and sighing he said
*‘It is not possible for you to remain together
Tabby cat, you must return to your own kind and
Rat, you can no longer be with her, EVER!’*
Cassie knew from the start their love was doomed
Riley knew without Cassie he’d never be complete
Cassie sighed and returned to her humans
Riley wept as he went back to his garbage heap
Epilogue:
Billy the bat continues to haunt the night
All morose and bordering on Goth
He interfered in the intermingled species trap
and is now married to a Sloth
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 5:40 AM UTC
welcome
she welcomes my energy inside and gives me tea
calms my busy light without a single word
smiles at my bright aura
a tabby ginger cat purrs on a gingham cloth
blue Delft plates in a row
this was a time with no fuzzy
no noise
no waste
no haste
dimming of all goodness
a woman’s head rolls on the fine sifting sand
dry and warm
a rapier juts forward, pierces the guts of an old man
who carries a child on his back
there’s a red blanket what flies on the line
soggy and now, it’s hard to tell whose blood drips so
an elongated horn is blown from a desert hill
nobody lives in the mountains of Miranda anymore
her ghost has found voice in the echo of the brambles
her secrets still buzz in heavy hives of long ago
discovered and ravaged by trusted traitors
now hanging in clusters, newly unfound
dried corpses also hang (unmolested) in bloodwood trees
where every trace of gall is let flow in kino
the blood of Miranda flows on
she of terminalis
lives on eternal
in brook and vale and bush
in veins of progeny bee
and also
in the crickets of the field
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
i'd like to get drunk
off of sweet nectarine
and make love to the sound of pattering
rooftop rain
reciting declarations written on
cafe napkins, bits of dreams birthed
from hazy afternoons
sunlight the kind that sends you into
a tantalizing dance, fleetwood mac humming
from the phono graph
a scratch along the window screen
from the neighborhood tabby
naked beneath your sweater
collecting lint
to be plucked,
absentmindedly away
as kisses collect
scorching the hands
that dared to pull
the crust of the earth
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
orange marmalade
appeared
upon
their
whiskers
tabby stripped kittens
playing
and
tangled up
between
***** of yarn
red blue and green
with
a little bit of indigo
Between
them
and
still
at
their
young feet
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
Three kitties
tabby and white, tri-color siblings from under a school portable
and their adopted father, hunched backed, grey and white, bowl legged:
circa 2000, the best from the Israeli streets
groom each other one tongue on each sleek fur covered skin
the rhythm of certain satisfaction rises
and it is the vibration of love
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 2:43 PM UTC
pear leaves strum the high wire
fern roots claw a sun drenched bank
creep vines mount the hedgerow
sow bugs jump a grated worn step
picket wall stain on cedar
mountain stream brisk at lush green pass
four legs down the foot path
biscuit brown trailers fill the pipe
spiders march on dew web
knots and rivets cut hard at the seam
maples cover the forest floor
sap ***** ping the front gate
dandelions drift on west breeze
blue berries plump at shepherds grove
wood sill holds a stained glass
letter box lined above the scrub
delft ware on the mantle
(with petals and script for a promised guest!)
junior poised with mouth agape
birds and squirrels whistle jovial tunes
goldfinch darts the sea ranch
tabby cat rests in a white wicker chair
a crafters window in the alpine
follies await the summer task!
queen bee on the flutter
airedale set on a woven grey mat
watchmen of the hollow (+ earwig and mite!)
scurry, under rustled moist leaves
frogs leap at trickle creek
shutter bugs mount on gryphons lair
still water ripples in the shaded pool
folding fingers on corner bridge
foragers cut the high shelf
silver fish come to life
whiskey jack sings on indian green
elijah and xavier pause...
at a long days end
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 9:39 AM UTC
You say you're just a savage
But to me you were always more
You smell of blood and war
But to me there was always more
You love to laugh in my face
You call me foolish and push me away
I stand so still, for you are
a Mountain Lion, I'm just an outside tabby cat
If you wanted you could hurt me
For in the past you have, you've done it before
You called me names and stop
You stop talking to me, you've made me cry
But there is a beauty in your madness
You make me want to walk beside you, I don't know why...
You say I have a heart of solid black
And if my heart was black then yours is that of space
You make me crazy, I want you that much
You tell me to go away, with snarl in your voice
But how can I go away? How can I leave?
When you are like a black hole and I can never be free
There is beauty in your eyes, like space without sunlight
You once wanted me... but now I am just a nuisance
You told me once that you cared about me
How happy I once was... When you cared
But I was fool...
For Mountain Lions tend to eat outside tabby cats
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
Perhaps someday but not today
You'll heed the calling of the land
And feel it reaching out for you
The way it summons my soul too
Then, perhaps then, you will ---
Take me to the park
The cloak of snow that clothed the park
Is mud and slush on paws today
On socks, sweatpants, and sneakers too
And that just doesn't work for you
Not a drip or a drop should ever land
Not a dip or a dot would ever will
The cat is preaching about free will
The thing that will lead me to the park
"Find it and you can go today"
"Wouldn't you like that too,
In truth, wouldn't you?"
He gets off his high horse of a perch and lands
While he's off to see how lies the land
I remain - supine - wondering if you will
Take me to the park ---
Take me to the park today
Hoping you'll say, "Yes, I'd love to go too.
I'd love to go with you."
At the hour of habit, I wait by the door for you
To take these paws from cut pile to land
But the taper of your knitted brows today
Leaves no room, no prospect for the park
You open the door and to your will
The sky spits a resounding dissent too
The two-timing tabby chimes in too
"I'll give up if I were you"
But all I can think of is my paws on the land
All I can think of is if you will
Take me to the park ---
Take me to the park today
Perhaps later today you'll hear it too
The call of the land beckoning for you
Then, perhaps then, you will take me to the park
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
I went everywhere in my dream.
I went to the past and saw the future
Took pictures of my old house,
Realized how haunted the neighborhood that I grew up in was.
I took your best friend to my old back yard. Just to dance with her again
I confessed my undying love like it wasn't a problem. And when I turned
She was wind, and I had to cut the air with a blade just for Satans protection.
I ran back inside and packed my old books and kept deciding on which ones to leave behind.
The way the new owners rushed me out
Like time was a decision not worth noting
We drove to a new state, with new faces
And I used my phone to communicate
With my first unrequited love.
How i still want her , but no longer care for her. The way i used to want to hold her sensually ,when i was a ******
Now a primal urge to answer her proposition with the most careless of
"Sure"s
I asked her if it was a dream and the way she said it "could be" made it feel more real.
And after one of the mamma cats died
Leaving all the babies for one tabby to feed
I realized that life is ...
And all i can do is love the runts
Untill they are burried , and then the love changes to a past tense
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
Theres this old lady
With only one shoe
She has a hundred cats who
Always follow her,
She doesn't know what to do.
They make such a fuss
She can only mumble and cuss
Calico and Tabby
They chase out all
The silence in her alley
Fed up she sliced off there paws
Silence is golden......
Thats gods law
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
The window is up;
sounds of rain crinkle in,
like the static in the voice
of a faraway caller.
My cats are perched,
one grey, one tabby,
listening with me, as
we stare at miniature
mudslides glaze gener-
-ations of ants, probably
clinging onto strands of
grass; waiting to become
the past.
I think of success and
what it means to me.
I look in my wallet and
count one-two-three;
one reason to like the rain;
two reasons to embrace strife;
three reasons to consume pain;
enough zeroes to choose a life
not smothered in mud, not one
where I cling onto the grass.
I dream of a dream where
my dollar bills can last.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 3:40 PM UTC
Orange tabby cat,
With your white under coat,
Why did you leave me,
Along these slopes?
For six years,
You laid in my bed,
I gave you love,
And kept you fed.
I brushed your fur,
And gave you a name.
Now I feel ashame.
I take the blame.
I left the door open.
Didn’t shut it in time.
There wasn’t enough bravery in,
My voice to call you mine.
The rainfall was quick.
So were the tear drops from my eyes.
I never realized,
You're my hope in disguise.
I sit down now,
Breathing the air.
Wanting to scream words,
No lion would dare.
Your pur was my lullaby at night.
Your fur was my blanket.
Your meow was my heart aching,
And now you’ve gone and taken it.
Orange tabby cat,
Out with my concern,
Come home to me.
Be smart and learn.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 5:04 PM UTC