I haven't written much in *years* but I did want to share some poetry with you all that I've written. Please feel free to comment. Criticism is welcome, provided that it remains constructive. I'm sharing poetry in particular that has to do with cats I have known and loved, or cats in general. There's a reasonable amount of it, too!
The following poem was initially meant as a political statement (one I no longer agree with -- this was my college days), but one can read it from the point of view of the feline, too.
The Cat
I can see her there
furled under the tree
tail flipping from time to time
mellow and relaxed, eyes
half closed in
an expression of contentment.
I have to stop to wonder
how long she's been there
and if she's ever going home.
She is thin, and looks old
beyond her years. Small,
I give her nine months, tops.
And that's what's so sad about it.
Just another child left to die.
I can't just walk away
so I click my tongue
and she comes running easily
with the attitude of one
used to affection and caress.
I reach my hand out to
stroke, and the fur is soft.
Not what I had expected.
It isn't faked, this feline
cry of hungry pain. Her paws
are on my thighs, begging me.
But I have nothing except
for a pouch of day-old tobacco,
and I know she doesn't want that.
I can't just shoo her on her away
but there is no place for her
among the brick buildings
and so many trees you feel you
might suffocate for the extra oxygen.
I wonder if this isn't how we
fight our oppression; white
people in a white town filled with
red brick. Keep everything out
that we think we don't want.
Yet she persists.
This tiny feline body,
malnurished and underfed
is stronger than I am
and than I may be
in a lifetime of petting.
There is one thing for her
out of everything that we have
forced into her small, microcosmic
feline tiger tabby world.
That one thing is survival.
How are we to survive without
one another? Can one exist
without the other, or will
we crash and burn too?
Will we starve
sitting beneath a tree,
eyes half closed, the
wind ruffling our fur?
Even here, opressed and forced
to starvation by the laws of man...
she is purring, a soft sound
gentle and token to her existence.
Somebody will listen.
The next one isn't *exactly* about a cat, but it has that feel to it...
Paws in the Water
Her paws are in the water, damp, soaked and cold
but she will not move away nor embrace the chill.
She could live here, spreading herself thin on her dreams
or she could dance in the sea, if only she weren't afraid.
Time is a spiral, moving outwards for her
but she cannot join it to spin her way out of control.
She is trapped in this place, a world between worlds
and that is how it is meant to be. Few would understand
and she will not try to explain.
So she keeps her paws in the water. Still.
This one I wrote tonight, in memory of our sweet Abby. You can see it's not as good, as I'm out of practice. Again, feedback is welcome and encouraged.
Together
you were here for a moment
a purring ball of fur
we never knew you
that your sweet motor
wasn't running
we knew you for a moment
a boundless love
curious but forgiving
you eased so much hurt
a constant companion
we loved you for that moment
every bit of kitten adoration
we'll never know why
or how you left us
but we'll see you one day
you gave us that moment
and though you couldn't stay
you'll be forever in our hearts
we'll never forget your voice
or the love that you gave
until we cross the Rainbow Bridge
Together
The following poem was initially meant as a political statement (one I no longer agree with -- this was my college days), but one can read it from the point of view of the feline, too.
The Cat
I can see her there
furled under the tree
tail flipping from time to time
mellow and relaxed, eyes
half closed in
an expression of contentment.
I have to stop to wonder
how long she's been there
and if she's ever going home.
She is thin, and looks old
beyond her years. Small,
I give her nine months, tops.
And that's what's so sad about it.
Just another child left to die.
I can't just walk away
so I click my tongue
and she comes running easily
with the attitude of one
used to affection and caress.
I reach my hand out to
stroke, and the fur is soft.
Not what I had expected.
It isn't faked, this feline
cry of hungry pain. Her paws
are on my thighs, begging me.
But I have nothing except
for a pouch of day-old tobacco,
and I know she doesn't want that.
I can't just shoo her on her away
but there is no place for her
among the brick buildings
and so many trees you feel you
might suffocate for the extra oxygen.
I wonder if this isn't how we
fight our oppression; white
people in a white town filled with
red brick. Keep everything out
that we think we don't want.
Yet she persists.
This tiny feline body,
malnurished and underfed
is stronger than I am
and than I may be
in a lifetime of petting.
There is one thing for her
out of everything that we have
forced into her small, microcosmic
feline tiger tabby world.
That one thing is survival.
How are we to survive without
one another? Can one exist
without the other, or will
we crash and burn too?
Will we starve
sitting beneath a tree,
eyes half closed, the
wind ruffling our fur?
Even here, opressed and forced
to starvation by the laws of man...
she is purring, a soft sound
gentle and token to her existence.
Somebody will listen.
The next one isn't *exactly* about a cat, but it has that feel to it...
Paws in the Water
Her paws are in the water, damp, soaked and cold
but she will not move away nor embrace the chill.
She could live here, spreading herself thin on her dreams
or she could dance in the sea, if only she weren't afraid.
Time is a spiral, moving outwards for her
but she cannot join it to spin her way out of control.
She is trapped in this place, a world between worlds
and that is how it is meant to be. Few would understand
and she will not try to explain.
So she keeps her paws in the water. Still.
This one I wrote tonight, in memory of our sweet Abby. You can see it's not as good, as I'm out of practice. Again, feedback is welcome and encouraged.
Together
you were here for a moment
a purring ball of fur
we never knew you
that your sweet motor
wasn't running
we knew you for a moment
a boundless love
curious but forgiving
you eased so much hurt
a constant companion
we loved you for that moment
every bit of kitten adoration
we'll never know why
or how you left us
but we'll see you one day
you gave us that moment
and though you couldn't stay
you'll be forever in our hearts
we'll never forget your voice
or the love that you gave
until we cross the Rainbow Bridge
Together
