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To err is human, to purr is feline.

quote by Robert Byrne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To err is human, to purr feline.

quote by Robert Byrne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sexy Feline Machine

Shes a funky feline machine
Crazy cat inside a dream
shes a hunny she stings like a bee
your the punk and shes the queen
shes an angel shes a dove
with a taste for a villans blood
packing heat strutting on the street
chew you up and make you meat
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(shes a sexy feline machine)
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(shes a sexy feline machine)
Shes a sexy feline machine
Shes a sexy feline machine
Shes a sexy feline machine
Shes a sexy feline machine
you cant stop her
ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya........
Shes a funky feline machine
Crazy cat inside a dream
shes a hunny she stings like a bee
your the punk and shes the queen
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(shes a sexy feline machine)
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(every thing is not as it seems)
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(shes a sexy feline machine)
Shes a sexy feline machine
you cant stop her
ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya...........
(bow bow bow)

song performed by by Fat Joe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pinkle Purr

Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
A little black nothing of feet and fur;
And by-and-by, when his eyes came through,
He saw his mother, the big Tattoo.
And all that he learned he learned from her.
'I'll ask my mother,' says Pinkle Purr.

Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
A ridiculous kitten with silky fur.
And little black Pinkle grew and grew
Till he got as big as the big Tattoo.
And all that he did he did with her.
'Two friends together,' says Pinkle Purr.

Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
An adventurous cat in a coat of fur.
And whenever he thought of a thing to do,
He didn't much bother about Tattoo,
For he knows it's nothing to do with her,
So 'See you later,' says Pinkle Purr.

Tattoo is the mother of Pinkle Purr,
An enormous leopard with coal-black fur.
A little brown kitten that's nearly new
Is now playing games with its big Tattoo…
And Pink looks lazily down at her:
'Dear little Tat,' says Pinkle Purr.

poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wish Of A Cat

a cat's wish
is to live in a great meritocracy
where cats are recognized
purely on the basis
of their great work,

though,
this is not reality

once in a blue moon
a lucky cat wins in
a purr competition
but it must cultivate
itself
to preserve its
feline fame

otherwise
it will lose it
and henceforth
choose the
career part
of the dogs.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Fickle Feline Friends

Cats abide us, we will do
Till they find something better,
They have no canine loyalty
And would not die in our defence -
Dogs are rather stupid, just like us,
But cats have much more common-sense!
Given half a chance they'd be elsewhere,
Rubbing against some stranger's legs
While they feed them titbits, stroke their fur,
Deceived, like us, by that feline purr -
We might be worried witless
But would the little traitors care?
Next time you feed the cat take note,
Tomorrow she might not be there! !

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A cat can be trusted to purr when she is pleased, which is more than can be said for human beings.

quote by Dean Inge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cats on the Prowl

Another vivacious misty morn'
As I stumble over a childs' bike
I witness paw prints upon my convertable top
The pattern surprised me, as they roamed to and fro

Not again, as I chuckled secretly
Which one I could not tell
Just one more cat spell
On the rag top of my car

Even on the bumper
Prints galore
Evidently they have no clue, this upsets me
Just relaxin, being king or queen for a brief moment

Perhaps hoping and scoping
For a field mouse
Scurrying around the flower beds of my house
For we constantly are given gifts, from these prowling feline

Nearly every wakeup, as we exit the front door
Fine feathered friends, chipmunks and moles
Appear before our awakening eyes
We're saddened, for a brief second, as a life is taken
While the cats purr loudly
In their demise

poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cats Loved

My heart loves cats, their demure sense entices
The day with a dominion called country;
Desultory affairs sweetly decide me in the cat,
Comely thoughts from the cat entice me.
This cat, that cat and those worst objects
Become elixirs, of cleverness and clarity.
The signs of ebullience from the feline animals
Are so daily and suddenly rich, that they must be clever.
Life from these feline creatures is ephemeral.

poem by Naveed Akram
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0266 This one's only for those who like it

Did Jesus, as a baby, cry?
For was there aught to cry for?
Or were His tears from God’s own holy font,
knowing, what He was here for?

The story speaks of one
who’s seldom seen in Christmas cribs –
one of the first of animals to make praise:
the inn’s pet tabby cat, who, woken strangely
by the faintest sound – yet, not a mouse who stirred –
yawned, stretched, strolled slowly down to check
that in the stable, all was peace…

and it was peace, as peace was ever known.

What could a tabby do but purr?
The Christ Child woke; his lips seemed almost
to form some first and holy word;
gazed at the tabby cat, strange creature
of this strange new world; saw it was good;
and smiled.. and Mary, seeing this, and
hearing in that purr, Creation’s praise,
leant down and with her hands, till then
pressed in her world-bearing humility -
and on the tabby’s forehead
as some mark of christenings yet to come,
fingered the initial ‘M’ – not as some believe,
her name – though happy coincidence, but
the nearest human beings may come
to praising godly human, human God,
with perfect purr of peace. And so and ever since
the tabby bears upon its forehead that sacred
M. You didn’t know? Well, take a look…

And you may wonder why
this god or goddess of the hearth
is not so honoured in the Christmas crib?
Not as some unimaginative people think,
in case it smothered inadvertently
the Christ Child – well, is that likely?
No – it was as peaceful messenger
outside the stable, marshalling in its holy role
the birds and animals who’d first picked up
even perhaps before the shepherds, that
cosmic sound: ‘The stable’s full right now – please form
an orderly queue’ – and I’m sure
I needn’t tell you that this orderly queue, of two by two,
followed the same order as they embarked
and later, disembarked, from – yes, you guessed it -
The Ark.

So this Christmas, if you still have your loved
but battered Noah’s Ark
with all (well, mostly, now) its precious cargo –
line them up around the crib, in an orderly
queue of praise.

How quiet and peaceful,
now, they are!

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mysterious Moggy

If you know anything at all
You'll know that they were born for sleeping!
Curled tightly up in a little ball
Cautiously keeping
The secret of their feline soul
From humankind like you and me
Who pry and poke and do not understand
That in their spirits they are free
And will not answer any demand
But keep their cat integrity.
They know we will fulfil their wishes,
Plying them with the most sumptuous dishes -
Can't you see we're simply their slaves
And this is the way the feline behaves?

My cat deserves my full attention
Despite her air of condescension,
I don't know how, but secretly
She's made a little pet mouse of me! !

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like A Cheshire Cat

I’m a C-A-T and I’ve lost my purr,
I’m down in the dumps, and losing my fur,
Once such a beauty, a Persian delight,
But now, frankly, I’m a terrible sight.

I’m a C-A-T who’s hair is all knotted,
With teeth that now have nearly rotted,
I’ve got unpleasant breath, an irksome cough,
In the past I was a superb show-off.

I’m a C-A-T who’s thin tail won’t wag,
Life for me now has become a real drag,
I need to find some top moggy magic,
The state I’m in, you can say, is tragic.

I’m a C-A-T who once was swanky,
Would never stand any hanky-panky,
But now I’m left, a poor sad old feline,
Couldn’t even attract a porcupine.

I’m a C-A-T that had all the cream,
Style, grace and oodles of such self esteem,
A new voice and long coat, is all I ask,
Would that be pleading for too great a task.

I’m a C-A-T so I won’t give in,
I’ll practice my scales and pamper my skin,
And then once again I shall walk the tiles
Grinning. Like a Cheshire Cat, full of smiles.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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you and I, and the cat

we shared a cup of coffee- you and I,
as the cat looked on.
you had two lumps of sugar, a shot of cream.
mine was black.
I thought to offer cream to the cat; he’d like that.
and then you smiled.
you peered across the rim of your upraised cup, taking a sip,
scrunching your face and smiling through the steam as it
rose from your milky, sweet coffee,
and I forgot about the cat.
he purred.
quickly, I put him outside,
knowing his familiar purr, a purr that soon
would escalate into a full-blown howl
that demanded my attention and some cream.
I wanted only to savor the contented sweetness of your face,
perfectly formed for my delight, but
you felt sorry for the cat.
I had been abrupt, insensitive.
“Why can’t the cat be allowed to purr, even to howl
“if he wants? ' you said.
“Why must the cat be refused a simple request for attention
“and a sip of milk? ”
alright then, I’ll let the cat back inside,
and give him some milk.
are you happy now?
no answer.
the coffee has grown tepid,
along with your smile.
I loathe that cat.

poem by Hm. Nes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feline Mind

What wonders would I find,
O friend of mine,
If I were to journey into thy mind,
O friend feline?

Everyday the planets would align.
There would be fish and bird a-plenty and fine.
Eighteen hours of sleep everyday,
and time to groom and eat and play!

A window into the feline world art thine eyes,
where it matters not if something dies.
For life is for fun and games,
but alas! O my friend, thou hast no dame!

poem by Soren Valentine
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Cattitude for M'Lady Ernestine

She tells her kittens this and that
Like any feline mother would
and she makes sure they’ve understood
Just what it means to be a cat...

For cats can trace their ancestry
much farther back than humans can
They are superior to man
although humans may not agree.

There was a time when humans knew
the feline race was born to rule.
The race of man was just a tool
cats used to do what they must do.

The menial tasks of every day
beneath a felines dignity.
A cats place was to oversee
that men did their work properly.

But times have changed and now today
Cats are seen by men as pets
but no true cat ever forgets.
That they will rule again one day.

Mean while cats have to rule by guile
A wise cat always gets her way
it is a role cats have to play.
Though cats may vary in their style.

Cats make the men provide our food
and somewhere warm and dry to sleep
Cats do not need to earn their keep.
There is no reason why we should.

That’s what men were created for.
Although they claim authority
they misperceive reality.
They’re born to worship and adore.

Perhaps cats will reward them when
Cats can assume their rightful place
as rulers of the human race.
The wheel is sure to turn again.

8-Feb-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kittens Got Claws

(coverdale/vandenberg)
Walking down the street
Youre the center of my universe
You got the world in your pocket,
My manhood in your purse
You aint a bad girl, honey,
No matter what the neighbours say,
Its just that you were those skin-tight dresses
With your g-string tuned to a
Sweet, sweet, child of the street
Heaven sent, youre an angel dressed in black,
Cool, stiletto strut, youre a drop jaw cardiac
Youre the genuine, feline, prettiest girl Ive ever seen,
With your thief of hearts smile
Youre a certified pleasure machine
Sweet, sweet, child of the street
Dressed to kill in diamonds and fur,
You get what you want
With your pussy cat purr
But, the kittens got claws,
Shell tear your heart out
The kittens got claws,
Shell scratch your back
The kittens got claws
Shell tease an please you
The kittens got claws,
Shes a heart attack
You treat me good,
Sometimes you treat me bad,
But, keep it up, honey,
Youre the best time Ive ever had
No matter what you put me through I must confess,
Oh, you got more style than a brand new xjs
Sweet, sweet, child of the street
Dressed to kill in diamonds and fur,
You get what you want
With your pussy cat purr
But, the kittens got claws,
Shell tear your heart out
The kittens got claws,
Shell scratch your back
The kittens got claws,
Shell tease an please you
The kittens got claws,
Shes a heart attack...
Walking down the street
Youre the center of my universe
You got the world in your pocket,
My manhood in your purse
I know you aint a bad girl, honey,
No matter what the neighbours say,
Its just that you were those skin-tight dresses
With your g-string tuned to a
Sweet, sweet, child of the street
Dressed to kill in diamonds and fur,
You get what you want
With your pussy cat purr
But, the kittens got claws,
Shell tear your heart out
The kittens got claws,
Shell scratch your back
The kittens got claws,
Shell tease an please you
The kittens got claws,
Shell blow your stack
The kittens got claws,
Shell tear your heart out
The kittens got claws,
Shell scratch your back
The kittens got claws,
Shell tease an please you
The kittens got claws,
Shes a heart attack...
You scratch my back, baby,
An Ill scratch yours...

song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Moment

She starts and stares
into high ceiling shadows,
alarmed by what? A sound?
Slight movement, breeze wafting
past the open door?

I look,
but poor human eyes see nothing
beyond smudged spectacles.

So I stroke her flowing fur
And reassured, she shuts sentient eyes,
trusting feline sense, and purrs.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cats Are

cats are
they come go
accept reject

in independent thought
in secret feline thought
loyal to moments in time

enjoying totally in luxury
exultation of comfort purring
day vision night vision shifts

shifting in time
shifting in mind
shifting in mood

light changes seen through
optical shifts in feline slit eyes
adjusting light sound perception

living moments lapping contentment
changes changes of timeless sleep

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Way To Be Human

Every day it's the same thing
Another trend has begun
Hey kids, this might be the one
It's a race to be noticed
And it's leaving us numb
Hey kids, we can't be the ones
With all of our fashion, we're still incomplete
The God of redemption can break our routine
There's a new way to be human
It's nothing we've ever been
There's a new way to be human, new way to be human
And where is our inspiration
When all the heroes are gone
Hey kids, could we be the ones?
Cuz nobody's famous, and nobody's fine
We all need forgiveness, we're longing inside
There's a new way to be human
It's nothing we've ever been
There's a new way to be human
Spreading under my skin
There's a new way to be human
Where divinity bends
It's a new way to be human, new way to be human
I'll find your love across my impossible space
You've created me, take me out of me into
A new way to be human, to a new way to be human
You're a new way to be human
Where my humanity bends
To a new way to be human
Redemption begins
You're a new way to be human
You're a new way to be human
You're the only way to be human
You're a new way to be human

song performed by by Switchfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purr-fect Awakening

This morning was odd, I'll agree with that,
For I woke up believing that I was a cat.
It began in the bathroom, I'll admit that's for sure,
When instead of a shower, I started licking my fur.
I said, 'Wait a minute! There must be a flaw! '
As I began scratching my head with a feline paw.
The shock that I felt when from my mouth flew
Not the words that I spoke, but 'Meow, meow' and 'Mew'.
So I tossed and I turned and I played with my tail
To try to wake myself up and make this dream fail.
But no matter how hard I pinched myself…OUCH!
All I could do was scratch my claws on the couch.
I'd chew on some catnip, and play with some yarn.
I'd drink milk from a dish, and chase mice in the barn.
I was furry and cute, and could sit in people's laps.
I would purr by the table and get the best scraps.
Then, one day, as I was purring and preening myself,
Who should appear before me but a stout little elf.
He said, 'I'm the one who made you a cat,
Because you wouldn't look good as a dog or a rat.'
Then, with a wave of his hand and a nod of his chin,
I became very drowsy, and fell asleep again.
I dreamed of cat toys, cat food, and cat spit,
Then I woke up again, feeling quite fit.
I was no longer a cat, so I'm glad, of course,
For that stupid fat elf turned me into a horse.

Ed Poet
©5-12-94

poem by Wayne Wickham
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Old Tara

My cat Tara
Was sharp swift and full of fun;
A gift from high
In the garden a smoking gun
Ever alert to predators.
Velvet paws in the house
The loveliest cat ever
To grace the family home.

Tara didn't like sudden bangs,
Guy Fawkes shenanigans
She would ban.
She would come to my side
Tail up: purr purr
Trying to tell me her cat news,
A true and faithful friend.

The years rolled on
Her eyes grew dim.
No more quick movements to her stride.
In my heart I knew one day
The vet would say,
There's nothing more I can do for Tara!

She staggered to me one evening
Bade me a cat's goodbye,
Crept to a geranium pot
In a quiet spot on the floor,
Trying to hide her agony
And keep her dignity.
There she died like the warrior she was.
Tara is now at peace
Her memory will never grow old.

poem by Katie Kent
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