Further he lies silent
When with his long fur coat
he comes and lies on my lap
and look at me with golden eyes
with black pupils,
his front paws tread softly
while he makes a nest for himself.
There’s a purr sound
coming from his throat
and further he lies silent
while my fingers
stroke his head
and woolly ginger stomach
and two paws
gather my hand at times
like only my serval can
[Reference: Ginger persian cat here referred to as a serval.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
It’s war in my yard
It’s war in my yard
and the ginger Persian cat
lies stretched out
gazing at the trenches
where some gecko’s has disappeared
as if the golden eyes of it
can draw them out of cracks.
A little later the two dogs sniff under a bush
and chase something out of it
that draws a grey stripe
over the grass
past my window
and both cats
fly up with arching backs
and paws out deadly
to capture it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Musso
Musso my ginger Persian cat
lies stretched out
and sleeping
on the box of my computer.
Every now and then
he opens his golden eyes
and yawns and stretches out
his golden-yellow striped
left foot.
When I stroke his head
he stretches it back
and there’s a smile
of pleasure
with two tiny protruding white teeth.
At times this beautiful golden monster
brings his presents to me
and any big grasshopper,
mouse, rat, bird
or snake
that he finds
surprises me at times.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Forever
The bright blue
folds open through the room’s window
and I see rows of purple morning glories
that shoots in domes up to the wall.
There are purple irises
that keeps butterflies busy
and bees turn around the roses
and I can hear
them passing outside
and the soft sweet smell of jasmine
mixes with lavender
on the fresh morning breeze
and the ginger golden Persian cat
stretches himself out long
on the wall
of the fish pond
where he lies
looking at the world.
Somewhere Sussa
(the big black dog)
talks grumbling with herself
and I hear Flippie
passing carefully
on her small paws
in the corridor
and we are safe
in our fortress
and your hand lies
soft and spoiling over me
and I hear your breathing evenly
and while you sleep next to me
and I could stay forever like this.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pads, Paws And Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
"come on little honey, let me under your hive"
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pads, Paws & Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
Come on little honey, let me under your hive
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sexy Ginger Bread Man
On his body is a ginger bread thong
To soften you up he sings a sweet sugar song
If you hit on him he’ll play along
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
He’ll seduce you with candy wine
One a scale from 1-10 he is a 9
Girls look at him and say, “He’s so fine”
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
On his face are peanut butter eyes
He has powdered sugar on his manly thighs
He will reel you in with his seductive lies
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
On this neck is a chain of candy
Around the house he can be handy
If you add frosting he can be pretty randy
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
Out of the batch he is the pick
He has a giant ginger bread stick
It has rainbow sprinkles on it
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
You bite the chain and swallow the thong
Eat the stick which is very long
You gobble him up till he’s all gone
NO MORE sexy ginger bread man
poem by Paul Celano
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GINGER SNAPS...by talile ali
ONE OF THE STRANGEST TRUTHS, I GUESS
I ALWAYS KNOW GIRLS THAT I WANT TO UNDRESS
IT SEEMS KINDA STRANGE, BUT WHAT CAN I SAY
IF THEY LIKE GINGER SNAP'S, I KNOW THAT I'LL GET MY WAY
CHORUS
GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
I AM SUCH A FAN OF THOSE GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
SEND ME THE WOMEN I NEED
I SAID IT WAS STRANGE, BUT I'M NOT MAKING IT UP
IF THEY LIKE GINGER SNAPS, I'LL BE EATIN THEM UP
MAYBE IT'S JUST MY THINKIN, BUT I CAN SAY I FEEL
THE SIMPLE FACT TO ME STEPS INTO THE SURREAL
CHORUS
GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
I AM SUCH A FAN OF THOSE GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
SEND ME THE WOMEN I NEED
poem by Talile Ali
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The red breasted dove
The red breasted dove swooped
over me
and giddy eyed
went to land
on the fallen tree
overgrown by flowers
in the rock garden
watching itself mirrored
in the window.
It didn’t see
the ginger Persian cat
until the last moment
and with paws stretched out
almost landed on its head.
It still had flight and swooped up
landing in the driveway
at the gate instead,
where the golden cocker Spaniel
went for it.
It flew up into the nearest tree
and disgusted cooed at the dog
who sat watching it
with big brown eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I sit in the shade under the chestnut-tree
I sit in the shade
under the chestnut-tree
with the golden ginger cat on my lap
who pushes his front paws
around my hands
bending them to hold on to me
with nails just touching me
and his golden eyes
looks lovingly up into mine
while he licks me
with a pink grating tongue
and I am again without you.
I read a poem in Ted Hughes’s
“Birthday Letters”
telling about how
he met his wife
and the hours of my birthday
now passes very slowly
after I had to say goodbye
to you again
and the sky is blue
and now cloudless
as if the sun
is specially shining for me today
and I do not know
what to do
to get you back again
and my spirit is tired
and it’s a hell of a thing
to be alone once more.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ginger cat (Villanelle)
I am a spoiled, lazy ginger cat
I am lying on the sofa all day long
And yes, i am a cat that is very fat
I am posh and proud to be your pet
I n your eyes i never do wrong
I am a spoiled, lazy ginger cat
I will not chase that dirty rat
I am OK, on the sofa is were i belong
And yes, i am a cat that is very fat
You can bash the rat with a bat
Cook him in a pot, feed him to Mr Chong
I am a spoiled, lazy ginger cat
Other cats see me and they frat
I am a top cat, i lead with a midnight song
And yes i am a cat that is very fat
I am that fat cat who sat on the mat
all morning, until you heard the gong
I am a spoiled, lazy ginger cat
And yes, i am a cat that is very fat
poem by Milica Franchi De Luri
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For my Persian cat in autumn
Curled up he lays in the last bit of summer sun
that falls in the autumn,
he sometimes scale the chestnut tree
of which the stripped branches
grabs at the dull blue sky
to stretch himself out on the roof of the garage,
where he continually licks at his ginger coat
and when unexpectedly a thunderstorm arises
he lies on the porch curled up in a bundle,
looking at the falling drops
until a bolt of lightning falls on the paving in front of him,
where he looks startled at the bang
and with big golden eyes
that almost draws close does call.
poem by Gert Strydom
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As A Lad
Copper Knob or Ginger Nut
meant I’d got red hair,
and that’s what I was called
by everyone everywhere.
They also used this rhyme
with no concern or care.
And as a lad, their sense of humour
I really didn’t share.
‘Ginger Nut fell in the cut
and frightened all the fishes.
A whale came up
and swallowed him up,
and that was the end of Ginger Nut!
poem by Orlando Belo
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Stigmata
Stronger than reason
Stronger than lies
The only truth I know
Is the look in your eyes
The look in your eyes!
Just like a car crash
Just like a knife
My favourite weapon
Is the look in your eyes
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Theres a ton locked in your empty eyes
Get out of my life!
Im chewing on glass
And eating my fingers
Im not the one
Whos run out of lies
Lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of lies!
Youve run out of time!
Cutting my face
And walking on splinters
I lost my soul
To the look in your eyes
Your eyes!
You ran out of lies!
You ran out of lies!
You ran out of lies!
You ran out of time!
Stigmata!
O, you have empty eyes!...
They tell me nothing, nothing but lies
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ginger's Marriage
Ginger cat decides to marry.
His pussycat lives in the yard.
Tri-color coat she wears wary,
On her lips - a beautiful pomade.
A manicure, eye-lashes, a hat …
Ginger loved all that in a pussycat.
It was her birthday when he
Made her an offer his wife to be.
Pussycat loved ginger, it was not a spoof,
Wedding ceremony was made on the roof.
An old cat has come to the party,
He brought a large sweet patty.
There have come two little mice,
Little kittens were naughty but nice.
At the wedding was a puppy
Funny creature was so stumpy.
Cats have come from all the yards,
Flowers were from boulevards.
The marriage choir was like a beep,
Till morning no one could sleep.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Eyes Of A Stranger
[ page ]: dr. david, telephone please. dr. david
Dr. blair, dr. blair, dr. j. hamilton, dr. j hamilton
All alone now
Except for the memories
Of what we had and what we knew
Everytime I try to leave it behind me
I see something that reminds me of you
Every night the dreams return to haunt me
Your rosary wrapped around your throat
I lie awake and sweat, afraid to fall asleep
I see your face looking back at me
And I raise my head and stare
Into the eyes of a stranger
Ive always known that the mirror never lies
People always turn away
From the eyes of a stranger
Afraid to know what
Lies behind the stare
Is this all thats left
Of my life before me
Straight jacket memories, sedative highs
No happy ending like theyve always promised
Theres got to be something left for me
And I raise my head and stare
Into the eyes of a stranger
Ive always known that the mirror never lies
People always turn away
From the eyes of a stranger
Afraid to know what
Lies behind the stare [lies behind my stare]
How many times must I live this tragedy
How many more lies will they tell me
All I want is the same as everyone
Why am I here, and for how long
And I raise my head and stare
Into the eyes of a stranger
Ive always known that the mirror never lies
People always turn away
From the eyes of a stranger
Afraid to know what
Lies behind the stare
song performed by by Queensryche
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
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a Cat’s dream
He stretched out on the ground
lying in the sun
and the heat on the long hair
of the red-golden ginger coat
felt really great
and the golden eyes
of the Persian closed
while it dozed away
and air flowed softly
through its flat pink nose.
Two sharp little white teeth
pointed past its lip
as if ready to clip
and stripes ran everywhere
like those of a tiger.
He’d been a good cat
all his life,
cuddled against
the master and his wife,
caught rats, mice
and even snakes
and brought them
as gifts to the humans
that he loved.
Still on that day
while he slept
he prayed to all the gods
that took cats to heart,
to have a tiger’s day
and be able
to live and play
for just one day
like a tiger.
The dream became a nightmare
and two vicious Rottweilers
chased him up a tree
growling, barking
and leaping up in the air,
but while he slept
his prayer was granted
and a ferocious tiger
rushed down
clawing at the hounds
even before it landed
on the ground.
Torn, bleeding and wailing
the two dogs
ran whining away
and in terror
let every other dog know
a tiger was afoot.
When he rushed down the street
all the people that he met
were totally fretted out
and ran away in sheer terror
and he found nobody
to play with
as even the other cats
were terrified
and kept to themselves.
As the day went on
he got really hungry
and drank water
from a wishing well
where tourists stopped
at a distance
to gaze at him
from their cars
while a squadron of police
drew near in great fear.
To be a Persian cat again,
seemed much, much better
in this place at this time
and he wished
and by chance
he bumped a coin
from the ledge
down into the waters.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Early one afternoon
Early one afternoon
I walked through the streets
of a small village
and it had to be in Italy
and was probably in Corona
or Tuscany.
a Baker with a white overcoat
and white hat on his head
rang on his bike’s bell for me
and pedalled pass,
with an old green bike
at the Pizza Palour.
There were long white breads
and green wine bottles,
in the baskets of his bicycle
and he had a big bush
of red blue lanvender flowers in one hand.
Across from me there were three small tables
with white table-covers,
at the Villa Toscana
and I could read some dishes
from the menu on the wall.
At the wall a young woman
with dark hair and an indigo dress
laughed sharp and bright,
while she waited
that a well built waitress
pour some more wine.
The image of the beautiful waitress
with black hair and deep dark eyes,
that bends forward
still stays with me.
In front of me at Le Art
there were a row of paintings,
depicting nudes to the finest detail
on painter’s easels.
I walked nearer
and I could see rows of violet lavender bushes
against the ridge in the distance
and Villa’s, that stand yellow gold
up on the hill
and looked impressive
against the deep blue sky.
When I got back to myself
I was at the fountain
in front of the mural
in our garden
and the golden Persian cat,
watched me from the top of the wall
with a woolly tail that curled down
and it looked with golden eyes at me.
[Reference: Tuscan mural by Mandi. See the painting at my webpage: http: //www.mabooki.com/poems/display/1417_Early_one_af ternoon.htm]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Weep you no more, sad fountains
Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste.
But my sun's heavenly eyes
View not your weeping,
That now lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies
Sleeping.
Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that peace begets:
Doth not the sun rise smiling
When fair at even he sets?
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes,
Melt not in weeping,
While she lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies
Sleeping.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Hunt By Numbers
Hey little buddies:
Soft and silky night walkers.
Dangerous species -
Tiptoe menace long grass stalkers
On my bed:
No butter melting in your jaws.
Bonding monster -
Lethal weapon wearing claws.
Lets go out to hunt by numbers.
Tabby, spotted, black as coal -
Serval, margy, caracal.
Moggie in the moonlight listens:
Whiskered sensory miracle.
Felis, befriend us -
Egyptian mau - freyas familiar.
Long in the future -
Cloned disciples, the castle guard.
Now, lets go out and hunt by numbers.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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