Sunday Afternoon
Three yellow cats up a tree.
Our fire-red grill is still cold.
We're tossin' horseshoes and
watching blue dogs
circle three cats up a tree.
poem by Rick Stokes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Cats
Two Cats
One up a tree
One under the tree
The cat up a tree is he
The cat under the tree is she
The tree is witch elm, just incidentally.
He takes no notice of she, she takes no notice of he.
He stares at the woolly clouds passing, she stares at the tree.
There's been a lot written about cats, by Old Possum, Yeats and Company
But not Alfred de Musset or Lord Tennyson or Poe or anybody
Wrote about one cat under, and one cat up, a tree.
God knows why this should be left for me
Except I like cats as cats be
Especially one cat up
And one cat under
A witch elm
Tree.
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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 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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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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A Tree Mouse
Wherever you go, you’ll see them
assorted coloured tree mice.
They can be white, black, red and grey.
I must admit I have never seen one
with poker-dot spots,
by now your asking
what the heck is a tree mouse.
Well they are bushy tailed rodents
that love nuts and fruit and other assorted things.
Like a cat, they’ll raid a dustbin or two.
They scamper across our lawn
come the summer time
even do a high wire act
when cables are off the grown.
They tease the neighbourhood cats
with their arial displays
saying come and catch me if you can.
Knowing full well the poor cat
is no tightrope walker.
They are cheeky little fellows
and you cannot help watching them.
If you have a bag of peanuts
and your not quick enough
they will climb down your arm
help themselves, then grab the lot.
Some people call them a pest
and I know a few cats
would agree with that.
Personally, I get great pleasure
watch the tree mice play.
11 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Conscientious Deacon
(A song to be syncopated as you please)
Black cats, grey cats, green cats miau—
Chasing the deacon who stole the cow.
He runs and tumbles, he tumbles and runs.
He sees big white men with dogs and guns.
He falls down flat. He turns to stare—
No cats, no dogs, and no men there.
But black shadows, grey shadows, green shadows come.
The wind says, 'Miau!' and the rain says, 'Hum!'
He goes straight home. He dreams all night.
He howls. He puts his wife in a fright.
Black devils, grey devils, green devils shine—
Yes, by Sambo,
And the fire looks fine!
Cat devils, dog devils, cow devils grin—
Yes, by Sambo,
And the fire rolls in.
And so, next day, to avoid the worst—
He takes that cow
Where he found her first.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Blessed Cats and Dogs
Cats and dogs, aren’t they blessed?
Causing the country to insist
What the blows are to the chest.
Why do little angels work so caressed?
Making the country to assist
Cats and dogs, aren’t they blessed?
My soldiers in the army are with a blood test,
Keeping lines and dictation as a checklist,
What the blows are to the chest.
Amazed by the brilliance of those in the contest,
Canine help became something to co-exist,
Cats and dogs, aren’t they blessed?
May service feed the animals of conquest,
Domestic keepers will arrive at their crest,
What the blows are to the chest.
We see, we know the animals are depressed,
May loving people take a goodness as a list,
What the blows are to the chest,
Cats and dogs, aren’t they blessed?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Tis Me!
The tree on the left is made of bicycles.
The one next to it is red!
The one in the center is yellow
And the blue tree sits on the right end.
Unless you are standing behind them.
Then the blue tree is on the left.
Next comes the yellow then red tree,
And the bicycle tree comes next!
But if you watch from a merry go round
While it’s spinning in circles you’ll see,
Just a dizzying blur of colors,
Which one now is first, mercy me?
Who has such time that it does take
To sit and write the nonsense we read?
I bet whoever it is he’s retired,
And he looks an awful lot just like me!
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Crazy But Happy.....
how come that we save money
like it is a morsel that we even refuse
to feed the dogs and the cats?
how come that we spend the same
in a night like it were raining dogs and cats?
crazy? yes, crazy, but
happy.
period.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cats are smarter than dogs. You can't get eight cats to pull a sled through snow.
quote by Jeff Valdez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Tree
Winter cold breeze,
Tree freezy.
The hand of Tree shakes as the wind blew.
So cold tree turn icy blue,
under blue moon night.
Lucky me,
Have a home to keep me dream.
Sweet as white cream,
So sad Tree.
I want Tree to be as happy as me,
Take my puffy blanket,
Roll Treedy like a sushi roll.
Good dream, creamy Tree.
My happy Tree.
poem by Dong123321 4931
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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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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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Like Cats And Dogs
like cats and dogs shall we
be in the morning till nighttime
that is how they want to see us,
in a brawl, a fight, an argument
a wrestle, a push and pull,
but whew, time gets so tired
too, and well, we got to talk
and settle the inevitable,
tonight we shall give them
rain, and again, as they
expected, we shall be
like, sort of, raining
cats and dogs, but this
time, we shall be inside
a dark room, we shall
try how is it just to listen.
you know what i mean,
unrobe me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Salvation
if reincarnation
be true, how many
men, women, dogs, cats
pigs have to die before
a single soul is saved?
i would say Poor cats,
poor dogs, poor poor animals
and lucky you soul...
there is a crowd to work
for your salvation
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Sadie Says
Perhaps it's true
perhaps it's not
we'll never know
if it's the reason
Sadie sleeps
till noon each day
then with her limp
walks to the beach
to feed wild cats
but never a dog
because Sadie says
everyone knows
cats are poetry
dogs are prose.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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It is strange to be single
I walk past vineyard of grapes,
see the struggle that the small avocado tree
has against the ripe
while a string of doves
on the telephone wire
looks cooing at me
and feel like the fallen tree
over which the hollyhocks, geraniums, carnations
and ferns are growing rampant and trailing
as if I am laid down dead as well
but still shoots
is reach high into the air
past the roof
like fingers to the sun.
It is strange to be single,
not to catch the view
of your sun filled eyes
and the dogs are following me
and the cats await me
and I am really lonely.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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