Cats
They are alike, prim scholar and perfervid lover:
When comes the season of decay, they both decide
Upon sweet, husky cats to be the household pride;
Cats choose, like them, to sit, and like them, shudder.
Like partisans of carnal dalliance and science,
They search for silence and the shadowings of dread;
Hell well might harness them as horses for the dead,
If it could bend their native proudness in compliance.
In reverie they emulate the noble mood
Of giant sphinxes stretched in depths of solitude
Who seem to slumber in a never-ending dream;
Within their fertile loins a sparkling magic lies;
Finer than any sand are dusts of gold that gleam,
Vague starpoints, in the mystic iris of their eyes.
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Related quotes
Les Chats (Cats)
Les amoureux fervents et les savants austères
Aiment également, dans leur mûre saison,
Les chats puissants et doux, orgueil de la maison,
Qui comme eux sont frileux et comme eux sédentaires.
Amis de la science et de la volupté
Ils cherchent le silence et l'horreur des ténèbres;
L'Erèbe les eût pris pour ses coursiers funèbres,
S'ils pouvaient au servage incliner leur fierté.
Ils prennent en songeant les nobles attitudes
Des grands sphinx allongés au fond des solitudes,
Qui semblent s'endormir dans un rêve sans fin;
Leurs reins féconds sont pleins d'étincelles magiques,
Et des parcelles d'or, ainsi qu'un sable fin,
Etoilent vaguement leurs prunelles mystiques.
Cats
Both ardent lovers and austere scholars
Love in their mature years
The strong and gentle cats, pride of the house,
Who like them are sedentary and sensitive to cold.
Friends of learning and sensual pleasure,
They seek the silence and the horror of darkness;
Erebus would have used them as his gloomy steeds:
If their pride could let them stoop to bondage.
When they dream, they assume the noble attitudes
Of the mighty sphinxes stretched out in solitude,
Who seem to fall into a sleep of endless dreams;
Their fertile loins are full of magic sparks,
And particles of gold, like fine grains of sand,
Spangle dimly their mystic eyes.
— Translated by William Aggeler
Cats
Sages austere and fervent lovers both,
In their ripe season, cherish cats, the pride
Of hearths, strong, mild, and to themselves allied
In chilly stealth and sedentary sloth.
Friends both to lust and learning, they frequent
Silence, and love the horror darkness breeds.
Erebus would have chosen them for steeds
To hearses, could their pride to it have bent.
Dreaming, the noble postures they assume
Of sphinxes stretching out into the gloom
That seems to swoon into an endless trance.
Their fertile flanks are full of sparks that tingle,
And particles of gold, like grains of shingle,
Vaguely be-star their pupils as they glance.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
Cats
No one but indefatigable lovers and old
Chilly philosophers can understand the true
Charm of these animals serene and potent, who
Likewise are sedentary and suffer from the cold.
They are the friends of learning and of sexual bliss;
Silence they love, and darkness, where temptation breeds.
Erebus would have made them his funereal steeds,
Save that their proud free nature would not stoop to this.
Like those great sphinxes lounging through eternity
In noble attitudes upon the desert sand,
They gaze incuriously at nothing, calm and wise.
Their fecund loins give forth electric flashes, and
Thousands of golden particles drift ceaselessly,
Like galaxies of stars, in their mysterious eyes.
— Translated by George Dillon
Cats
Fevered lovers and austere thinkers
Love equally, in their ripe season
Cats powerful and gentle, pride of the house
Like them they feel the cold, like them are sedentary
Friends of science and sensuality
They seek the silence and the horror of the shadows
Erebus had taken them for its funeral coursers
Could they to servitude incline their pride.
Dreaming, they take on noble postures
Great sphinxes stretched out in the depths of emptiness
Seeming to fall asleep into an endless dream.
Their fertile loins are full of magic sparks
And nuggets of gold like fine sand
Vaguely bestar their mystic pupils.
Translated by Anonymous
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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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
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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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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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Cats In The Well
The cats in the well, the wolf is looking down.
The cats in the well, the wolf is looking down.
He got his big bushy tail dragging all over the ground.
The cats in the well, the gentle lady is asleep.
Cats in the well, the gentle lady is asleep.
She aint hearing a thing, the silence is a-stickin her deep.
Bridge #1:
The cats in the well and grief is showing its face
The worlds being slaughtered and its such a bloody disgrace.
The cats in the well, the horse is going bumpety bump.
The cats in the well, and the horse is going bumpety bump.
Back alley sally is doing the american jump.
Bridge #2:
The cats in the well, and pappa is reading the news.
His hair is falling out and all of his daughters need shoes.
The cats in the well and the barn is full of bull
The cats in the well and the barn is full of bull
The night is so long and the table is oh, so full
Bridge #3:
The cats in the well and the servant is at the door.
The drinks are ready and the dogs are going to war.
The cats in the well, the leaves are starting to fall
The cats in the well, leaves are starting to fall
Goodnight, my love, may the lord have mercy on us all.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lucifer Sam
Lucifer sam, siam cat.
Always sitting by your side
Always by your side.
That cats something I cant explain.
Ginger, ginger, jennifer gentle youre a witch.
Youre the left side
Hes the right side.
Oh, no!
That cats something I cant explain.
Lucifer go to sea.
Be a hip cat, be a ships cat.
Somewhere, anywhere.
That cats something I cant explain.
At night prowling sifting sand.
Hiding around on the ground.
Hell be found when youre around.
That cats something I cant explain.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To JRR Tolkien and Christopher
Do cats dream of lions,
and shirts dream of irons?
Do cats dream of leopards,
and sheep dream of shepherds?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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
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A Herbal Mystic
Rastaman, fight them back
With a heart attack.
Lick them back,
Like them beat you down.
Brace your loins, like a king
And let the natty blow in the winds.
Dread, burn Babylon
With a herbal mystic,
Mystic!
Mystic!
They killed The Savior,
Born in a manger.
Killed the prophets,
With hatchets.
And the liars are still standing.
The oppressor man
Still grand-standing.
So Bungoman say:
'You want to kill Ital,
make it swift
because this dread
is not adrift'.
Rastafari!
Rastafari!
Jesus is not dead.
Rastafari!
Rastafari!
Jesus is a Dread,
Dread!
Dread!
I can see Babylon burning.
I can see Babylon turning,
Turning red,
Red!
Red!
Red!
poem by Buxton Shippy
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Three Cool Cats
Three cool cats,
Three cool cats
Are coming up in a beat up car,
Spitting up a lift of candy bar
Talking on about how sharp they are.
Three cool cats.
Three cool chicks
Are walking down the street
Swinging their hips,
Splitting up a bag of potatoe chips
I think cool cats really did flip.
Three cool chicks
Three cool chicks.
Well up came that first cool cat,
He said: man look at that.
Man, do you see what i see?
Well i want that middle chick
I want that little chick.
Hey man save once chick for me.
Well three cool chicks.
Three cool chicks.
Well they love like
Angels from up above
And three cool cats
Really fell in love.
But three cool chicks
Made three fools out of
Three cool cats.
Three cool cats.
Well up came that first cool cat,
He said: man look at that.
Man do you see what i see?
Well i want that middle chick,
I want that little chick.
Hey man, save one chick for me.
Three cool chicks.
Three cool chicks.
They look like
Angels from up above
And three cool cats
Really fell in love.
And three cool chicks
Made three fools out of
Three cool cats.
Three cool cats.
Three cool cats.
Three cool cats.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Only Wishes Were Horses, Part 3
I wish to wish the wish you wish to wish
But if you wish to wish the wish the witch wishes,
I won't wish to wish the wish you wish to wish.
I'd wish like you - like you do
and the wishes of ours would surely come true
If only wishes were horses!
I dream to dream the dream you dream to dream
But if you dream to dream the dream the dead dream,
I won't dream to dream the dream you dream to dream.
I'd dream like you - like you do
and the dreams of ours would thus come true
If only wishes were horses!
I desire to desire the desire you desire to desire,
But, if you desire to desire the desire the deer desires
I won't desire to desire the desire you desire to desire.
I'd desire like you - like you do
and our desires would really come true
If only wishes were horses!
I choose to choose the shoes you choose to choose,
But, if you choose to choose the shoes the Jews choose,
I won't choose to choose the shoes you choose to choose.
I'd walk in your shoes - your shoes of success
And then I'd have no stress,
If only wishes were horses!
I love to love the love you love to love,
But if you love to love the love the losers love
Then I won't love to love the love you love to love.
I'd love you and the world,
I'd love you more than itself the word,
If only wishes were horses!
I would, anyway, wish or dream or desire or choose or love like you do
BUT it surely would come true
If only, if only, if only wishes were horses!
poem by Comfort Ndlovu
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The Cat of All Cats
My Cat is the cat of all cats
For she is like a beautiful Painting
She sleeps and awakes in the early morning
To demand her requests for the day.
My Cat is the cat of all cats
She is royal and dignified.
Poets and Writers have long been inspired
She is admired by all who encounter her
My Cat is the cat of all cats
And shall remain so, until the end of her nine lives.
Sleeping With Cats, Or Trying To
From 'Dating at Fifty' a collection of poems about the quest for love in middle age
Trying to sleep with cats,
Cats not content to use their box discretely
But compelled by strange ambition
To dig to China after each smelly deposit.
Trying to sleep in blankets
Full of cat litter
Tracked in by the cats.
Trying to sleep with cats, not content
To sleep or read or wait quietly for the dawn
But driven to actively stalk
The largely fictitious wildlife
Of a two room apartments.
Trying to sleep with a new woman
In strange bed with cats….
Forget about it! ! !
poem by Allan Thorne
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She Loves Her Cats
She likes her cats more than humans
She has sex with men she doesn't love
When they like her cats she puts out
I wish she would clean her cat box more
She has invited me over
I told her I love cats
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Lost In Meditation
(ooh intro)
I am lost in meditation
And my reverie
Brings you back to me
For, in my imagination
Love has lingered on
As though youd never gone
This is just a dream that can not last
When the magic of this mood has passed
So, I sit in meditation
Trying to pretend, this mood will never end
Lost in meditation
And my reverie
Brings you back to me
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Painter
We see him dancing in the morning
Stars depart the yawning sky
Hell take the hour that is passing
And leave it in his lovers eye
And if you want hell make it seem
As though youre walking in his dream
A mystic sea
We hear him laughing in the shadows
As he smuggles in the sand
Hes found another kind of color
In the magic he has donned
And if you want hell take the time
To ask the sun and moon to rhyme
And then combine
He draws no lines between what hes imagining
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To the Superior Animal
To sum up all, I'm old -- and that's
A fact the years decide;
It is a common thing with cats
And not a thing to hide.
But to feel what it is -- how kind
How true to love and law
For this you must be quite resigned
And not avoid its paw.
It does not come as reckless foe
A shrinking prey to take,
But with soft footstep that we know
By comfort in its wake.
Though it spoils something -- that is true,
Which we must learn to lack
And takes alike from me and you
What never does come back.
It caters for our failing strength
In many a dainty scrap,
And gently lays us at our length
In some secluded lap.
It may bless you -- (I think it should)
Beyond what I make out,
With things perhaps too great and good
For cats to talk about.
Since I find in it blessing free
From all it can destroy,
And so its progress is to me
A miracle of joy.
But my look out to occupy
And make the most of that.
You must be quite as old as I,
If not yourself a Cat!
poem by Anna Laetitia Waring
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Darkly...As Thru A Cat's Eyes
If you could see what it tis, that cats can see
It would amaze, perplex and astound you
For they can see, most easily
The sights and worlds that swirl around you
Seen by you as a half glimpsed shadow…
A furtive movement from the corner of one’s eye
Unseen by you, behind that sly shadow
Is where the other worlds lie
Cats legs will stiffen, hair stand on end
Wide eyes staring into dark, empty space
At seemingly nothing… but I tell you my friend
They see things and know of, a strange eerie place
The things that we sense, yet elude our meager vision
The things that rustle about and go bump in the night
This is simply the world that exists hard close to ours
Quite real to cats, and to us unseen, out of sight
The frightened manner in which cats react and stare
Could be good reason that we’re not allowed to be…
Endowed with their perception, of what it tis they’re aware
Of the worlds swirling about us…worlds, only cats can see
poem by David Whalen
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Intangible Tigers
There's a moral in this: tho' I own that the preaching
Of moral and maxim in season and out
Grows stale; yet these days of depressions far-reaching
Demand any means to put worry to rout.
So in that menagerie now populated
By home-coming chickens and wolves upon mats
Consider, when finally doubt's dissipated
How often our tigers turn out to be cats.
Three-fourths of our troubles some Frenchman has told us,
But seldom occur. Tho' the ills of the mind
Loom forth as fierce tigers while doubts yet unfold us,
They turn into cats once we've put them behind.
How often the dread of some darkened tomorrow
Has ruined today; till, at Time's urgent call,
Tomorrow's false fears become yester's small sorrow
Innocuous cats, and not tigers at all.
So, here is the moral - just take it or leave it.
It doesn't much matter, you'll scorn it, no doubt.
Yet here is a truth and, if men don't receive it
I've still done my duty in pointing it out.
False troubles, false tigers engender false fearing;
So use the grey matter close under your hat
And, as you fare forth thro' life's dark forests peering,
Go armed against tigers - but still expect cats.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Authority of Self Expression
Who are you to choose what I do is not suitable?
And...
Who made you the authority of self expression?
Who fell ill and was left crazed?
Who announced you a scholar of prim and proper ways?
Chill that lip around me, please.
My days weren't hand fed by a highly paid nanny.
Nor did I grow to know life through chit chat and gossip.
However...
I have experienced 'intelligent ignorance'.
You know...
The kind that is confined to reading books,
To uncover an interpretation of correctness and etiquette.
Written by someone who deplores common sense.
And suffocates from a corked behind.
That is the way from here it looks.
As if someone is walking,
Trying their best to hold tightly onto a thin dime.
Who are you to choose what I do is not suitable?
And...
Who made you the authority of self expression?
And...
Who announced you a scholar of prim and proper ways?
Who fell ill and was left crazed?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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