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I mourn
The mornings gone,
Waking to the cold,
Bare feet on hardwood,
Firing the furnace,
The smell of strong coffee,
Two cups placed,
Climbing back into warmth
Beneath the Pendletons.

I mourn
The mornings gone,
Lazy hours abed
For a family of four,
In winter coats
Jake, Shady
Upon our lap and leg.

I mourn
The mornings gone.
I would read her
Fascinating finds in
Scientific American,
Smithsonian.
She would pretend
To listen.
In return I would
Refill her cup.

I mourn
The mornings gone.
Is not love
Two cats, a man
A woman,
Content together as
One,
Content to hold
The day at bay,
Content to just be.
I really miss my old life.
you sit sentinel,
ears tilted toward
the quiet hush of rain
as the world falters,
holding her breath,
listening to your heart
as it painfully breaks.

you can’t go outside.
the colours of the garden
and the field,
even your mousies hide,
waiting for the storm to pass.

a tiny king
with a kingdom
he cannot touch.
this one is about my cat, ares, watching the rain from his window.
Jenny Gordon Sep 4
[pipe cleaners in rainbow colours]

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXVII)


Pipe cleaners had a purpose, straws' detail
Left sans recure without. But cat toys thence?
How Tigger comes to watch me wash fr'intents
The dishes; all was cool til she'd t'avail
Espy the cluster on the ledge, her trail
To happy minutes; leaving off pretense,
She picks her way through plates just rinsed to whence,
That tool for cleaning now a toy, and bail.
Last I saw, twas a spider. Straight'ning her
Wreck, I return it, to watch Peter too
Enjoy what never had so much use fer
'Scuse til redeemed by cats. Ah me, who knew?
Were we likewise worth nothing as it were
Until the potter, LORD, was only You?

26Aug25a
Guess the best cat toys in life are free, sorta.
Jenny Gordon Sep 4
Prolly wouldn't have gone off half as well.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXXIV)


Whilst steam wafts up in dainty tendrils' sense
Of romance, brie with del'cate mould's detail
Upon my tongue, where Peter's on the trail
Of Tigger and she's dancing oer mice, whence?
The squirrel comes by to look, and they from hence
Are keen on him, or whom? Chill winds' exhale
Sifts through like solace, where calm seems t'avail
Despite their wild play cuz I'm home fr'intents.
Debate what I shall serve for breakfast, poor
As such sheer wastes of time, and brunch will do,
I guess. Swiss cheese and scallions mixt in tour
With scrambled eggs, Canad'an bacon too,
And porridge, noshed on whilst they sleep. Bestir
Fresh air with gratitude. LORD, I thank You.

25Aug25a
Here's a teaser if readers are interested, that was a catnip mouse. Now I'm finally posting this, they netted a real mouse, cold and bloodied by 8am when I was finally home.
girlinflames Aug 11
My cat starts to meow
He sniffs my nose
then makes a nest on my chest
while I’m lying down
He rests his head right over my heart
He’s seen me cry all day
He knows I want to die
But there he is
reminding me
that my heart
is still beating
girlinflames Aug 11
I was crying in bed
Only the moonlight entered the room
My cat kept looking at me
climbed onto the bed
and began to lick
my tears
girlinflames Aug 11
Small pleasures
being present
staying away from social media
exercise
I’d always read this list of items
to improve well-being
on some websites
and never paid much attention
Then I chose to adopt them
like my cat
that I found on the street
They all came to stay
Zywa Aug 4
The memorials

are the lively love havens --


for more and more cats.
"Diary 1964-1965" (2008, Frida Vogels) - January 2nd, 1964, Rome

Collection "Trench Walking"
saint Jul 22
i live with four other cats,
but my favorite cat is different.
she’s the strangest cat i’ve ever known.

she’s bigger than me,
louder,
her fur is patchy and soft only in places,
and she walks on just two legs. like a trick.

she opens portals that lead to other worlds (she calls them “rooms”),
and she always locks me out.
i yell for her each time, she always forgets to let me in.

she cries more than any cat i know.
i never know why.
i press my head into hers,
knead the soft of her belly,
purr into the silence until it stops shaking.

she stares into the bright rectangle for hours,
meowing in a voice i don’t understand.
it’s quiet, and broken, sometimes loud,
like a song in another language.

she curls into the same corner every day,
her spot,
and when she forgets how to move,
i lay beside her like gravity.
i keep her warm.
i keep her here.

her fur is strange.
no stripes, no fluff,
just pale skin that pinks when she’s sad,
or angry,
or too full of feeling.
not like mine,
grey and white and made for softness.

sometimes she shakes when the house is quiet.
sometimes she forgets to feed herself,
but she always feeds me.
she always pets me,
even when her eyes look like storms.

she talks a lot,
a lot of the time to me  ..i don't understand her though.
at times she looks at walls and says things to the air,
like she’s hoping it’ll talk back.

she smells like salt and sleep and sadness
and sometimes i curl around her head
like maybe i can catch the nightmares before she does.

sometimes she disappears behind the big door
and i wait at it all day
and when she comes back,
i scold her with my tail.
but she never learns.

my favorite cat is tired.
she says it without saying it.
she breathes like the world is heavy.
she laughs like she forgot how.
but she still scratches behind my ears.
she still tells me i’m a good boy.

i don’t understand her.
i don’t think she understands me either.

but when she cries, i come running.
when she hides under blankets, i follow.
when she forgets herself, i remind her.
that she is loved.
that she is mine.
that she is my favorite cat.

and that i will stay.
<3
i wrote this about my cat! i'd like to believe he loves me dearly. i wrote this from his POV !
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