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A Bit Of A Laugh

When you’re up every morning
for work at the crack of dawn,
you think at the weekends
you can just lay back and yawn.
A nice lay in, getting up whenever,
not where my three cats
Arthur, Barney, and Charlie
are concerned.
They’ve got into a routine
of when their breakfast comes.
At five o’clock in the mornings at weekends,
they start playing trampolines on my tum.
With cats bouncing on your belly
you don’t lay in for long,
they get you up to feed them
and after they have eaten,
they go back to bed.
However, you are wide-awake by now,
so you end up staying up instead.
So much for that lay in
you thought you were going to get.
In our house that doesn’t happen,
I say with much regret.
One day I might get one,
when I’m old and grey,
with fingers crossed, I say,
but for the moment getting a lay in,
is just a bit of a laugh.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early Morning

my mind was thrown to wonder
why early morning chilling
not much of sane men would
wait patiently at closed gate
to open so we can play golf
even caretaker thought same

was it great alibi to go away
from mama before she regain
from her real self and be nice
i don't know, we hurry back
feeling contented to norm
to do it again on weekend

some can only play half
and hurry back to home
love those wives who come
to clubhouse for breakfast
leave for four hours; back
on time, pick their husband

whatever you do on weekends
early mornings away from home?
hope it's helping relationship
you could go fishing, hunting,
running, playing tennis...etc
god bless you and stay healthy

poem by Manonton Dalan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And What A Way To Start A New Year

The old saying goes
what you do on New Years Day
you’ll do all year around.
I just hope they don’t refer
to this back and twisted muscles within,
nor all the pills I have to swallow.
Those I could certainly do without.

I don’t mind feeding
our cats
Arthur, Barney and Charlie.
Even though at the moment,
it is a bit of a struggle
to place
their dishes on the floor.

I don’t mind putting
pen to paper
and writing a little bit.
It is the wriggling
and squirming
to get comfortable
that is the bit I don’t like.

After five days of misery,
I’ve caught another cold,
and every time I cough or sneeze,
it starts my back off again.
No win situation here
so what a way
to start the off the New Year.
One can only hope
that it can only get better.

1 January 2008

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Beautiful World

When I’m with you
For just a moment or a day
I can see my beautiful world

When I look into your eyes
As you hold me in your arms
I can feel my beautiful world

When we talk and laugh
Sometimes for no reason at all
I can hear my beautiful world

How I look forward to the mornings
When I know you’ll be there
Loving me in my beautiful world

And then the evenings come
And then the weekends come
And I must leave my beautiful world behind

To go back to my reality
Back to him and to a world
I don’t find beautiful

But at least I know how
My world would have been….
With you…..not only in my dreams….
It would have been…
It should have been…
Our beautiful world……

poem by Tortured Soul
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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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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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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.

poem by Kim Day
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Animal Rights (A Bad Cat)

A cat is a bad cat,
so long as it sheds,
the hairs on my hat.

A cat is a bad cat,
so long as it spreads
the food scraps
on my mat.

A cat is a bad cat,
so long as it doesn't protect
my cheese and bread,
stolen away by a mouse,
which ransacks my house.

A cat is a bad cat,
no matter thin or fat,
so long as it sleeps all day on my bed,
so long as it makes noisy fight,
during the silent nights,
so angry and mad,
with a pack of stray cats,
for a beautiful female cat,
for mating business.

Every morning it comes back,
with wounds on the head,
scratches on the back,
and the fresh blood still wet.

These wounds I have to clean and dress,
while it enjoys the pleasure of sex.

poem by U Win Kyi
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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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The Working Week.

Monday morning
Always late
Routine, schedules
Things I hate.

Kids to feed
Kids to dress
Husband’s ironing
House a mess.

Tuesday diving
After school
Kids at six
Swimming pool.

Wednesday evening
Half way through
Fifteen squared?
Not a clue.

Tears and tantrums
Up at dawn
Finish homework
Thursday morn.

Breakfast, school,
Where’s my shirt?
Car won’t start
Late for work.

Reports and deadlines
Lunch at one
Now it’s Friday
Almost done.

Long hot soak
That’s the way
For tomorrow
It is
Sa
Tur
Day.

poem by Sallie Howson
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Time Drags

There are times when
time likes to drag on by
and other times
when it speed by without notice.
Time often drags
near the weekends
and then at the weekends
they are gone before you know it.
The only logical explanation
is simple indeed.
It drags in anticipation
as we look forward to a little time off.
As soon as we relax
and begin to enjoy ourselves
then time decides to race along
so we have to go back to work again.

23 May 2008

poem by David Harris
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Be Me

I'm just trying to be me. . . to be me

[Chorus: 2X's]
One. . .Cause I really wanna see the world
Two. . . Always knew I was a super girl
Three. . . Staying laced in diamonds and pearls (to be me)
That's the way you gotta treat a girl

[Verse One]
Uh oh
When I was broke cats was like do that
Now that I got something cats is like screw that
They wish I could've blew that
Back with them complaining
Spassing

song performed by by Eve from Scorpion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely Weekends

Well i make it alright
From monday morning 'til the friday night
But oh those lonely weekends
Well since you left me
Honey i've been as lonely as a man can be
But oh those lonely weekends
Well you said you'd be good to me
You said our love would never die
You said you'd be good to me
Whoa but darlin' you wouldn't even try
Well i make it alright
From monday morning 'til the friday night
But oh those lonely weekends
You said you'd be good to me
You said our love would never die
You said you'd be good to me
Whoa but darlin' you wouldn't even try
Well i make it alright
From monday morning 'til the friday night
But oh those lonely weekends
But oh those lonely weekends
I said oh those lonely weekends
I said oh those lonely weekends
I said oh those lonely weekends

song performed by by Tom Petty
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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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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Grey

Dull grey the winter drags on,
so slowly
as if never there will be an end to it.

In the mornings it’s biting cold
with black frost that destroys where it falls
and sometimes there are clouds of fog
that tries to blot out places, things and times.

Early in the mornings the dogs howl in melancholy
where they lie on their beds
on the porch under a roof
since they are prohibited from the house,
both cats sneak slowly into the room
not welcome any more in the whole house
and the rascal bird with its red head
and green body
knocks on the big window
as if it’s playing the tick-tock game,

the grass stays dead yellow
and stick onto shoes
and everywhere are treaded in
and most of the flowers in the garden
has already died
and now has only the colour of death,
although I am still faithfully
spraying water onto them

and it is as if I am now also loosing faith,
not knowing anymore if there’s a God
who cares about me, as if other things
constantly keeps Him busy
so that He never shows up for me

while my love relationship sink into nothing,
while I out of heart keep on looking for a job
and another man’s wife
tries to make eyes at me

and I see evil flowering everywhere around me
where I stand in the middle,
between good and evil
and about me the grey land stretches out wide.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Tgif

The weekends are for rest and rejuvenation
Saturdays for my composure and reflection
And Sundays for fellowship and restoration
Mondays, back to the regular grind of work

How I wish I could skip the other three days
Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays readily,
And proceed straight into Friday’s preparation
And into my weekend of rest and rejuvenation

But what if Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday,
Do hold the keys, and all the clicks that count
That would make my favorite days worthwhile
Would I readily wish or prefer to skip any day?

While I look forward to the weekends for rest
While each day lends itself to me generously
I would welcome it with grateful anticipation
To enjoy each moment as it fades into the past

I will accept each day without discrimination
And work while at work, and rest while at rest
To experience full gamut of labor and leisure
To live each day fully, to redeem it faithfully

poem by Oyekake Satty Joshua
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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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A Quiet Night With The Boys

Weekends weekends everywhere
And quite a lot to drink
The sobriety of weekdays
Is something that i think
Is balanced by those other days
When elephants seem pink
Monday was a sober day
And Tuesday too as well
Wedneday it got really hard
And Thursday felt like hell
Friday started peacefully
But then came Friday night
Which started off a weekend
Of not feeling too bright
Why do we even tolerate
Such obvious abuse
I spent three hours this morning
Just looking for my shoes
I felt quite young and sprightly
Last night at half past one
But come ten o'clock this morning
My head felt like a bomb
Had been let off right inside it
That clamouring of noise
When all it was just going to be
Was a quiet night with the boys.

poem by David Keig
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A Black Cat Crossed My Path

A black cat crossed my path
On a night of a full moon
He was carrying a pack on his back
And dancing around like a loon.

I thought it was a funny sight
I couldn’t believe my eyes
Then I saw a ghostly cat
In a transparent disguise.

His eyes glowed like fire
In the darkened night
My hands grew cold
I was filled with fright.

Just then the ghostly cat
Found the black cat by a tree
They both did a jig
And started singing merrily.

I was no longer scared
As they danced ‘round and ‘round
It was an unusual scene
And an unusual sound.

They sang Halloween songs
About pumpkins and goblins and bats
And as they sang
Along came about fifty other cats.

They all joined in
The sound grew so loud
But it was a happy sound
From a jolly crowd.

All of the cats were dancing
And having a good time
Then the ghostly cat invited me
To have a bite of a lime.

I told him it would be sour
He said “Well, come dance instead”
So I joined the singing cats
And danced with a cat named Fred.

He moved around quite fast
Hopping left and right
We both danced and danced
Deep into the night.

At last I had enough
I couldn’t dance anymore
So I said good-bye to all the cats
And Fred walked me to my door.

He asked if he could come in
I said “my two cats would probably mind”
So he said “I’ll see you around”
I said “I had a nice time.”

One year went by
Halloween was here again
A black cat crossed my path
I knew the party was about to begin.

Happy Halloween.

poem by Connie Webb
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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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