The stones themselves are thick with history, and those cats that dash through the alleyways must surely be the ghosts of the famous dead in feline disguise.
quote by Erica Jong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace And Propriety
in the name of propriety
to cats we must be cats too
you know what happens when
we show to the cats that we
are really dogs in feelings and
actions,
there will be a chase of course,
and chaos, and there will be war
and there will be losers and
winners,
and in this matter
and manner of speaking we choose
to be dogs to assure that we win
but that is not always the case
the cats have advanced in their feline
technology and breeding
so my dear, let us just be proper
to cats we shall be cats
and make this world a happy place
for all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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History Stones People.
History stones people.
They stoned Moses, David and Linclon,
history did that for all to see
Marbel and cement,
that's all it leaves behind
of a long changing life.
Great heroes of time,
fall under the mercy
of the sculptor's knife.
History stones faces,
in a way that would make
ecclestias cringe.
History stones feet,
in a way that would make
piligrims cry.
History stones life
to always stay fresh,
yet, what is life without
the sins of the flesh.
All the radical kids
get stoned
and never change
or even move a muscle.
All the sword raising warriors
history stoned
without blood in their veins.
You can see all the victims
that history stoned
when you walk in the park,
they got kings
and queens
hell, they even got Gods.
They are there captive
in history's stones,
never to be again what they were;
wilting flesh and
breakable bones.
People look up at them
they are victims too.
History's stones fall far,
even on to you.
Those stoned to live
are like the ones stoned to die.
enslaved to the search
of the frozen smile.
Life is a burning bush
that doesn't get consumed.
not a dead rock
or a statue of history.
It's a fusing wind
of happinnes and misery.
An exploding volcano
of courage and fear.
It is the stem of the flower
struggling through the seasons
to stand and bloom
above the drying soil.
Life is the fighting wave
you see at sea
forgotten and denied
by the stones of history.
poem by Samuel Katz
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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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History why do we care
History
a famous person dies
History
a war rages
History
a new invention
History
a building opens
History
what happens if something happens to me
is that history?
no....
So why do we care.....
poem by Andrea Thepoet
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Famous Fable
The famous fable,
The famous table,
The famous stable,
The famous cable,
The famous babble,
The famous gable,
The famous parable,
The famous variable
The famous sable;
But, able to crown your love with my muse!
For, you are all that i need.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The crown and its pain
Don’t envy kings for their crown.
They had no rosy history;
Either murdered, killed in the battle,
Shot dead, feared dead by ghosts
Or slaughtered by wives’ agents,
They had no rosy history.
Don’t envy kings for their thrones.
25.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Life Is ~ The Stones Under My Feet
Life is the stones under my feet
All the places I've walked
All the places I haven't
They say something about who I am
The pebbles that I pick up to toss in the ocean
The boulders I've sat on
The skipping stones I throw across the lake
Gravel and sand
And cobblestone streets
Places with history
Places where history is about to be written
And what it has to say for my history
All those stones that I've crunched
Under my boots
Or sandals
Or sneakers
Or just my bare feet
Walking carefully
And there occasionally is a piece of glass
When I cut myself I bleed
But I heal in the end
Then I get up to walk on more stones
Because life is where you choose to walk
And where you don't
poem by Indigo Rosedragon
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Why Be A Bukowski Or An Emily? They Are All Dead
hey friend, dear poet
why be an emily dickenson or a charles bukowski
or a walt whitman or an ezra pound
look man, they are all dead
they're great, they have given themselves
extraordinary fames
commensurate to their extraordinary works
but they are all dead
and they have no more possibilities
they are all impotents
and faded and (forgive the word)
gone, gone, gone, gone.
let them be but part of our memories,
nothing but maps, guides, to the roads that we must now
take,
ghosts, famous ghosts, but ghosts just the same,
spirits, their poems are here with us
as a legacy
but we are alive, we are the possibilities
we are more than miserable with our
search for meaning
our quest to justify our insignificances
these little cravings for light
and scent and color
these little lives we have
if true to our miseries
as they were true to theirs
we can even be more
than what they had in their own time
in their own lives
have become......
sail on man, sail on, in the ocean of possibilities
in the vast space of our potentialities
we can be ourselves, truly ourselves,
that to me,
is greatness enough
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
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Three Cats
Three cats
Each one a history
#1 tamed off the street
Dog catcher denied.
#2 acquired through a neighbor
A grief replacement
For the number one's companion
Lost to owl power.
#3 a shop cat once
We loved her window antics with our daughter
Granted asylum when the flower shop closed.
A history of three cats.
poem by Bill Grace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Owners Choice
cats wait introverted
in pet shop cages offended
owners choice not feline opportune
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is That You
Cats droolin on the bar stool, shake your hips and crack your whips
Cheap seventeen and trashed out, you went too far, been a bitch you are
Your reputations in the bathroom, its on the wall and down the hall
I hear youre cheatin with my teacher after school, tell me what you do
When you know, you always get the boys you like
Play nice, then stick them with your knife, take off your insecure disguise
Is that you, crawlin up my stairs, is that you
(is that you, crawlin up my stairs) is that you, lookin half way dead
Write on the mirror with your lipstick, much too vain, got scattered brains
You used me just enough to get off, act your age, get off your stage
When you know, you always get the boys you like
Play nice, then stick them with your knife, take off your insecure disguise
Chorus:
Is that you, crawlin up my stairs, is that you
(is that you, crawlin up my stairs)
Is that you, lookin half way dead, is that you
(is that you, lookin half way dead) is that you, with your long black hair
You always get the boys you like, play nice, then stick them with your knife
You always get the boys you like, play nice, then stick them with your knife
Take off your insecure disguise
Chorus repeats out
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Earth and Earth
Working the wet earth,
bonded by standing water, as expected
I do not find ghosts,
but a layer of small stones and black roots.
A cracked pathway. Cats still.
My neighbour thrashes in the bushes,
looking for a son called Son.
The afternoon has stopped itself.
A window open. Curtains open. Music.
Why is Vivaldi so inhuman?
poem by Leslie Philibert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dogturday
It's Caturday,
what can I do?
See cats all day!
who can I sue?
Feline friends, if I may,
I'm a doggy bud, it's true.
Please turn it to dogturday,
maybe next week or two?
oh, so it's Dog Day on Sunday.....
I didn't know that, by the way.
Thank you Clare for your say
Lawyer fees I don't have to pay!
Cats Eye Resurrection
Cats ~ cats ~ cats
Eye
Cats ~ cats ~ cats
Splashing on my walls ~ my walls
In the field the bodies are tied
To the their crosses hair hanging down
The blood is rolling down their
Arms to the waiting dogs
Bad ~ bad ~ bad
Doctors
Bad ~ bad ~ bad
Counting the meat on the tables
In the field the bodies are tied to the
Altar the popes mule sings a song of
Freedom from his majesty-the pope
Nazi ~ nazi ~ nazi
Butchers
Nazi ~ nazi ~ nazi
Waving their tongues in the air
Cats-cats-cats-bad-bad-bad-cats eye
Resurrection
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Cat In Your Arms
When all the darkened drapes of night were drawn,
And mirth has left the room, all cast in gloom,
Except there played a glint, to stay till dawn,
On feline eyes, that spell a rodent's doom;
But oh, how lovely to behold, these eyes,
Which give a sparkle that reflects the light,
But gives away the cat of any guise,
That stalks and purrs, before the jump and flight;
But might these be just tales of mice and men,
And cats, as sound it may to the untrained?
A black cat, they say, is such bad omen,
And all these times, this myth has been retained;
........But cats or men of any color be,
........Behave as fit the other things they see.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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7 Cats of the Cobblestone
7 cats came calling.
7 cats they be.
7 cats came calling
for
a
spot
of
tea.
7 cups
7 saucers
berries
brie
and
clotted cream.
A light fare for 7 cats
7 cats they be.
7 cats
7 names
introduced to us.
One was black and white
the other calico.
Two tabbies sat at the hearth
three more we will get to know.
Lagging behind
we did find
peculiar
ginger cat.
Next to stroll in
cat named Vincent Van Gogh
and Siam,
white as fallen snow.
Kit Kat
Chi Chi
took milk with tea.
Miss Cleo and Rosy savoring dessert.
Duke of course
curious sort
sat out
upon
the stoop.
With no warning
came storming in
last to introduce.
After tea
and light fare
cat nap they did sleep.
7 cats came calling
7 cats we keep.
7 cats of the Cobblestone
7 cats they be.
poem by Gary Kedron
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