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Cat Poems
Part II
"Cats speak to poets in their natural tongue,
and something profound and untamed in us answers."
~ Jean Burden ~
There was a little cat,
And she caught a little rat,
Which she dutifully rendered to her mother --
Who said, "Bake him in a pie,
For his flavor's very high,
Or confer him on the poor, if you'd rather."
~ Mark Twain ~
Do You Remember Me?
I remember when you loved me, when you held me in your arms and snuggled me.
I remember when you stroked me and kissed me and told me how handsome I was.
I remember how you used to brush my coat and wipe me down with a soft cloth.
I remember sleeping next to you in a big bed, lying on your pillow beside your sweet smelling hair.
I remember the toys you bought me, how you played with me; oh! What joyful fun!
I remember how every morning I would purr and gently touch your cheek with my soft paw to awaken you.
I remember your sweet smile, and how you would sing out "good morning, my precious", when your eyes opened.
I remember the delicious food you used to give me, how there was always plenty to eat.
I remember how very much I loved you, adored you, worshiped you!
Do you remember me?
I remember when you brought the man home and introduced him to me.
I remember that you said he was your husband; that you loved him and that he would love me, too.
I remember that the man did not smell like a cat lover, but that if you loved him, then I would try to love him, too.
I remember that the man was loud and he would frighten me with his hard footsteps.
I remember that the man was not cruel to me, but indifferent to me as I begged him to stroke me.
I remember when the man said cats do not belong in the bedroom and then I no longer was allowed to sleep on your pillow.
I remember how I missed awakening you every morning.
Do you remember me?
I remember when you came home one day with a sweet smelling bundle in your arms.
I remember you held it gently, snuggled it closely and told me that it was your baby and that you loved it.
I remember thinking that if you loved it, I would love it, too.
I remember being curious about it and sniffing it often, for it smelled like you, but it was small like me.
I remember the man being fearful as I sniffed the baby. The man said that I would hurt the baby.
I remember being put outside, where I had never been before, and it scared me so badly!
I remember sitting on the porch, crying and begging you to let me back inside.
I remember that you never came to the door to let me in.
I remember that night when the other cats came,they watched me from the darkness and hissed at me.
I remember that I was so afraid they would hurt me; I had no claws and could not defend myself!
I remember huddling miserably against the door at night; afraid, and lonely.
I remember the man saying that I kept him awake at nights with my cries, so I had to go away.
I remember you putting me into a box, and that you would not even meet my eyes.
Do you remember me?
I remember being tossed from the moving car, box and all; and how much it hurt hitting the hard ground.
I remember escaping from the box and having no idea at all as to where I was; where you were.
I remember waiting there, for days, hoping you would come and save me.
I remember being hungry, thirsty, lost, alone, and afraid.
I remember looking for food, being so hungry, rummaging in garbage cans for something to eat.
I remember other cats chasing me, scratching me, and biting me because I was in their territory.
I remember trying to find you; scent you on the breeze. And I could not sense you anywhere.
I remember running and looking for you; running until my paws bled.
I remember how my once glossy coat became matted and dull; my once robust body, gaunt from hunger.
I remember the monster with the very bright eyes as it swooped down upon me in the road.
I remember the pain, horrible pain and the feel of my blood as it ran from my mouth.
I remember not being able to move; my legs did not work anymore.
I remember needing you more than I had ever needed you before in my life. And yet you did not come.
I remember how very much I loved you as I lay there dying alone, afraid, and in terrible pain.
Do you remember me?
~ Tiger ~ "This was written by me shortly after I treated a dying cat who, from
all indications, had been dumped."
On TigerLady's site, she has a strong message that all of us should always keep in our minds and hearts, whether we are pet owners or know of an abused, neglected, wounded, or homeless animal. She states: "Did the above poem touch you in some way? Did it move your heart? Did it make you cry? Did it stir something inside of you to make you want to help? If so, then DO something. Do not just sit there and think about what you could, or might do to help abused animals. Get up off of your rump and actually DO something!!
"Contact your local Animal Control Office, your local chapter of the SPCA, or your local chapter of the Humane Society of the United States. You can also contact me via e-mail and I will point you to other volunteer organizations within your own area. The point is to ACT, not just to think. Open your mind, your heart, your home, and yes, sometimes even your wallet. Use your own unique abilities to help those who cannot help themselves.
"Please, for the love of God, always remember: animals are not disposable like so much refuse. They think, they feel, they remember, and they can be hurt." ~ Tiger's Lair
Reprinted with express written permission - All Rights Reserved
Verses on a Cat
A cat in distress,
Nothing more, nor less;
Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye,
As I am a sinner,
It waits for some dinner
To stuff out its own little belly.
You would not easily guess
All the modes of distress
Which torture the tenants of earth;
And the various evils,
Which like so many devils
Attend the poor souls from their birth.
Some a living require,
And others desire
An old fellow out of the way;
And which is the best
I leave to be guessed,
For I cannot pretend to say.
One wants society,
Another variety,
Others a tranquil life;
Some want food.
Others, as good,
Only want a wife.
But this poor little cat
Only wanted a rat,
To stuff out its own little maw;
And it were as good
Some people had such food,
To make them hold their jaw.
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley ~
The Fat Cat Sat on the Mat
Wilma the witch has a crazy broom.
It likes to fly around her room.
She also has a fat cat
and a pet rat.
Wilma loves her pet rat.
She calls the rat
"my little brat."
The rat hates the cat.
The cat does not care.
The cat, who is fat,
just lies in the vat
and stares at the rat.
The rat hates that.
One night, when Wilma was out,
the fat cat got out of the vat.
He went, pit-a-pat,
and sat on the mat.
"This is MY mat!" said the rat.
"So what," said the cat.
"So get off!" said the rat.
"No I won't," said the cat.
"Then I will go and get my bat,"
said the rat.
"It will get you off the mat."
"No it won't," said the cat.
"This is the mat of the rat,"
said the bat.
"So what," said the cat.
"So get off!" said the bat.
"No I won't," said the cat.
"Then I will go and get my hat,"
said the bat.
"It will get you off the mat."
" No it won't," said the cat.
"This is the mat of the rat,"
said the hat.
"So what," said the cat.
"So get off!" said the hat.
"No I won't," said the cat.
"I am a cat, and I am fat,
No rat, no bat, no hat
can move me.
I shall sit on this mat
for as long as I wish."
"We shall see," said the hat.
"Look what we have," said the hat.
"Big deal, a dish," said the cat.
"A dish and what else?" asked the hat.
"Mmmm ... a fish!" said the cat.
"A fish on a dish," said the hat.
"For me?" asked the cat.
"Yes, for you," said the hat.
"Bring it closer," said the cat.
"Come and get it," said the hat.
"You think I am stupid,"
said the cat.
"You want me to get off the mat.
I won't get off, and that is that!"
Rat-a-tat ...
"What was that?" asked the bat.
"I don't know," said the hat.
Rat-a-tat ...
"It sounds like a rat with a tat,"
said the cat.
"It is not me," said the rat.
"What is a tat?" asked the bat.
"I don't know," said the hat.
"Look! The broom!" cried the bat.
The broom flew into the room.
It zoomed over the mat,
over the cat,
over the hat and the bat
and Wilma's pet rat.
The fish flew off the dish.
It landed on the hat,
which landed on the bat,
who landed on the rat,
who landed on the cat,
lying flat on the mat.
"Get off!" said the cat.
"No we won't!" said the hat
and the bat and the rat.
The fish said nothing.
Wilma came home.
She looked at the room.
She picked up the broom.
Then she asked,
"Why is the fish out of the dish?"
"Because of the cat," said the rat.
"The fat cat sat on my mat!"
"My dear little brat," said Wilma,
"what makes you think
this is YOUR mat?"
The fat cat smiled.
The fat cat got up
and stretched.
Off flew the rat, the bat,
amd the hat.
He ate the fish,
licked the dish,
and went back
to lie down in the vat.
"Thank goodness!"
said the mat.
~ Nurit Karlin ~
Sonnet to Mrs. Reynolds' Cat
Cat! who hast pass'd thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroy'd How many tit-bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears but pr'ythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me and upraise
Thy gentle mew and tell me all thy frays
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists --
For all the wheezy asthma, and for all
Thy tail's tip is nick'd off and though the fists
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft as when the lists
In youth thou enter'dst on glass bottled wall.
~ John Keats ~
The Owl and the Pussy-cat
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"
Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long have we tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
~ Edward Lear ~
The Stray Cat
It's just an old alley cat
that has followed us all the way home.
It hasn't a star on its forehead
or a silky satiny coat.
No proud tiger strips, no dainty tread,
no elegant velvet throat.
It's a splotchy, blotchy
city cat, not a pretty cat,
a rough little tough little bag of old bones.
"Beauty," we shall call you.
"Beauty, come in."
~ Eve Merriam ~
That Cat
The cat that comes to my window sill
When the moon looks cold and the night is still --
He comes in a frenzied state alone
With a tail that stands like a pine tree cone,
And says: "I have finished my evening lark,
And I think I can hear a hound dog bark.
My whiskers are froze'nd stuck to my chin.
I do wish you'd git up and let me in."
That cat gits in.
But if in the solitude of the night
He doesn't appear to be feeling right,
And rises and stretches and seeks the floor,
And some remote corner he would explore,
And doesn't feel satisfied just because
There's no good spot for to sharpen his claws,
And meows and canters uneasy about
Beyond the least shadow of any doubt
That cat gits out.
~ Ben King ~
Five Eyes
In Hans' old mill his three black cats
Watch his bins for the thieving rats.
Whisker and claw, they crouch in the night,
Their five eyes smouldering green and bright:
Squeaks from the flour sacks, squeaks from where
The cold wind stirs on the empty stair,
Squeaking and scampering, everywhere.
Then down they pounce, now in, now out,
At whisking tail, and sniffing snout;
While lean old Hans he snores away
Till peep of light at break of day;
Then up he climbs to his creaking mill,
Out come his cats all grey with meal --
Jekkel, and Jessup, and one-eyed Jill.
~ Walter de la Mare ~
Angel Harps
Last night I saw you in my dreams
a brilliant light engulfed your soul.
And through my sleepy reverie
a glorious message did unfold.
The voice was that of angel harps
as you told me of the way
in which the bridge kids celebrate
this extraordinary day.
A radiant warmth ran through me
when you tenderly detailed
a special place I've never been
where splendid love prevails.
You told me how the bridge kids
hold their paws and pray
for peace on earth, goodwill toward men
on this special, holy day.
Each bridge kid makes a heartfelt wish
to the Keeper of the stars,
they wish each stray a new-found home
without concrete floors or bars.
They ask that every homeless one
the Keeper not forget,
for each one has the soul to be
a loyal, loving pet.
I watch you drift away from me
as in early dawn I find
the spirit of your paw-print message
still vivid in my mind.
I hold the message near my heart
and with a smile I hear
a lullaby of angel harps
singing in my ear.
~ Terri Onorato ~
Little Paws Prayer
This is a prayer for little paws
All up and down the land,
Driven away, no friendly voice
Never an outstretched hand.
For weary paws of little beasts
Torn and stained with red,
And never a home and never a rest,
Till little beasts are dead.
Oh God of homeless things, look down
And try to ease the way
Of all the little weary paws
That walk the world
today.
~ Author Unknown ~
Milk for the Cat
When the tea is brought at five o'clock,
And all the neat curtains are drawn with care,
The little black cat with bright green eyes
Is suddenly purring there.
At first she pretends, having nothing to do,
She has come in merely to blink by the grate,
But, though tea may be late or the milk may be sour,
She is never late.
And presently her agate eyes
Take on a soft large milky haze,
And her independent casual glance
Becomes a stiff hard gaze.
Then she stamps her claws or lifts her ears,
Or twists her tail and begins to stir,
Till suddenly all her lithe body becomes
One breathing trembling purr.
The children eat and wriggle and laugh;
The two old ladies stroke their silk:
But the cat is grown small and thin with desire,
Transformed to a creeping lust for milk.
The white saucer like some full moon descends
At last from the clouds of the table above:
She sighs and dreams and thrills and glows,
Transfigured with love.
She nestles over the shining rim,
Buries her chin in the creamy sea;
Her tail hangs loose; each drowsy paw
Is doubled under each bending knee.
A long dim ecstasy holds her life;
Her world is an infinite shapeless white,
Till her tongue has curled the last holy drop,
Then she sinks back into the night,
Draws and dips her body to heap
Her sleepy nerves in the great arm-chair,
Lies defeated and buried deep
Three or four hours unconscious there.
~ Harold Monro ~
Ode To A Cat
I think that I shall never see
A cat that sheds as much as thee
Thy fur that sticks is all around
On chairs, on mats in little mounds
I sweep the floor, you shed some more
I wash the rug and you just shrug
You should give thanks I tolerate that
Or you would be a crew cut cat.
~ Marea Needle ~
The following poem was written by a sweet little Scottish email friend of mine about her two little kittens:
My Two Kittens
I have 2 black cats
1 is thin and 1 is fat
And here are all the facts
number 1 is Choochee
number 2 is Tufts
Choochee is the thin one and Tufty is the fat
and I love them so much cause they are my cats
I have another called Charlie but he is a stray
their birthday is in June but that's another day
so that is all the facts
that's all that I can say
except that I love my cats
~ Jillian Cassidy ~
Dundee, Scotland
age 8 (1997)
Purr-fectly Contented
When the housework is done,
It's time to sit and rest.
She climbs upon my lap,
And cuddles on my chest.
She purrs and nudges softly,
Her head rubs back and forth.
A tail swishes in my face,
Her tongue is very coarse.
She stays until she's finished,
Then jumps down on the floor.
She roams around my feet and legs,
And really wants some more.
She knows just what she needs,
And lets you know it too.
So persistant is her way,
You cannot make her choose.
She is a pet and a friend,
A companian when alone.
Her presence makes me happy,
She makes our house a home.
~ Clara Ashmore ~
Summer Cat
"Please feed my cat," he petted her, and grinned
"Be back for her real soon, when we get settled in.
Don’t get me wrong, I love that cat
but I’ve got to be a diplomat
My wife seems to have developed an aversion
for ordinary cats since she got a Persian."
We discerned he would not return,
a summer cat, we would learn
Abandoned at the summer's end,
forced for itself to fend
left to roam in streets and yards
where a cat must always keep its guard.
Despite the five cats in our place
that crowded us, not much space.
Once again, we had drifted
into benefactors, as when we were gifted
with a litter brought to our door
in Mystic Isle, where we lived before.
That was how it seemed to tally
so we fed her, named her Maui.
We would adopt her, that inner voice
told us we had no other choice.
Maui, who had just been spurned,
had other plans, we soon learned.
She’d disappear for a day, or week,
making us play hide-go-seek.
Until one day the game was over,
she came to us a bloody rover
lacerated, eyes all scratched,
we did our best to get her patched.
A vet told us he was afraid
that our cat had feline AIDS.
He said, "Don’t wait, terminate her,
save the trouble of doing it later."
The charm this little cat possessed
touched our hearts, I must confess.
We took her in; it didn’t elate her
when we had to isolate her.
Not much fun was in store,
one little window and a door
where paws of other cats disclosed
their presence, but the door was closed.
We tried to make her feel secure
but life had lost much of its lure,
dejected, she would lie and dream
of all the things she once esteemed.
Our help was futile, defeat disguised
not what Maui once had prized
But fate sometimes will guide and grace us
it lead us to a great oasis,
where skill and love would brighten days
that lay ahead, just like a maze.
Now Maui’s new life had begun
with new friends, napping in the sun,
on a porch, where she could see
the sun was where it used to be,
and a little cat-size door,
so the house she could explore
But the affliction took its toll
she lost her balance and control,
but never lost Lynn’s loving care
her empathy was always there
Bunny and Clyde, her steadfast friends
stayed close beside until the end.
~ Pauline Comanor ~, author of Moon Traveler
The Duel
The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
'Twas half past twelve, and, what do you think,
Neither of them had slept a wink!
And the old Dutch clock and Chinese plate
Seemed to know, as sure as fate,
There was going to be an awful spat.
(I wasn't there -- I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate.)
The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!"
And the calico cat replied "me-ow?"
And the air was streaked for an hour or so
With fragments of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind, I'm simply telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true.)
The Chinese plate looked very blue
And wailed; "Oh, dear, what shall we do!"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat,
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
And utilized every tooth and claw
In the awfulest way you ever saw -
And Oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don't think that I exaggerate -
I got my news from the Chinese plate.)
Next morning where the two had sat,
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think to this day
That burglars stole that pair away;
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is that they ate each other up -
Now, what do you really think of that?
(The old Dutch clock it told me so
And that is how I came to know.)
~ Eugene Field ~
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