An early bedtime something maybe poem thing... want to read and c/c?

...



I wrote 3 wonderful poems in my head today

and started a most marvelous piece

and now I sit here poised over my keyboard

and nothing is coming to me

so whatever comes out ... hope it is satisfactory



it was a breezy evening

a calico cat was stretched out

asleep on the second step leading up

to the broken door on the shack

and the sun was setting

somewhere behind the trees

lending a mauvish hint of color

to the sky



I slept in that shack for the last ten years

my hair unkempt my jeans half gone

and my boots sported holes

in their soles ... and my soul was as lost

as yesterdays failures



as I neared the place

I smelled smoke in the air

those two young boys

must be horsing around I found the weed

they had grown and had taken a toke

or two ...once or twice



but suffice it to say today was a wash

I could not find a thing to eat

and I was long ...much too long

in the full sun of day, too much heat



then the sky took on more of a smokey red hue

and a billow of smoke wafted over

and blew ... and my eyes strained to see

and at once I knew

it was my old shack ... only home that I knew



now where would an old man like me

sleep tonight

and the calico cat to me was a sight

and a thought crossed my mind

it was kind of unkind....

how much meat could be found

on that scrawny old ....

my eyes took on

a light surreal and the cat had grown

in its appeal to me it seemed the only way

and one of us would eat today....



the calico cat

seemed to read my mind

and in a moment I would find

myself in a bloodied cat scratched fever

before I died I

became a believer ... I screamed to the heavens

to save me and then

the cat licked her lips and

I was gone...



The calico cat has found a new home

she sleeps beside the oak door

she winks and presides

and no one knows

that she performed an act of homicide

and my bones lay somewhere

I haunt the old wood

and you might run into me

if you aren't good

this Halloween or maybe instead

the calico cat

will hop in your bed





the end of

this nonsenseAn early bedtime something maybe poem thing... want to read and c/c?
As my day was long today and I really didn't want to read

a long poem, but Nancy wrote so I did and now my eyelids

are heavy and yet I didn't think your poem was nonsense

it made me smile, so goodnight my friend and thanks

for the story,An early bedtime something maybe poem thing... want to read and c/c?
LoL. This was a lot of fun. Nice twist. I was fully prepared to feign deep shock over the senseless eating of another poor cat.
Calico cats and cuts.An early bedtime something maybe poem thing... want to read and c/c?
Reefer madness. The cat was smoking the herb.
You do not know the trauma of my existence with no cat

and my betta named Master who used to wriggle

elaborate fishy dances choreographed especially for me if I was sad

is dead

and my budgie with his genetic malformed head

who liked to bite my hand but would sit on my head

is dead

and the brindle beauty that was more sister than pet

well, I laid by her while she got that lethal shot,

erased all pain from her cancer-ridden bones

and I am alone





but my cats are out there somewhere feral and free

I wish to believe- when Terra died I never went back to them

this eats at me like a hungry maw, montrous and hollow

never sustained

all I want is one little black kitten to come to me:

I cannot search for it but have to believe in Mischief

someday the cats will forgive me

I wish to believe.An early bedtime something maybe poem thing... want to read and c/c?
there were places that drew a smile

and others in lines, where I wanted to cry,

Both good things in reading, within the same piece.



Some of the image/descriptive lines were extremely vivid

and the cat, reminded me sadly of mine gone, but sometimes I feel their ghosts

fluffing my blanket to be close.



Word Weaver, first sister, yer all that and more. Hugs, and be well this and all nights.
Satisfactory enough…



My cat’s brown coat

splotches of white

breaks and dilutes

attention

of squirrels –



until they meet her

bronze like stare

which freezes and

absorbs them in their fear

and they become

mesmerized…



fear chemicals rush to their skins

too late to save them

from getting crushed,

chomped and squashed

and finally

smashed and broken

and then she

climbs to my lap

to gently claw

to gently flex

reflexing and

pricking on my sweater

and skin



and she closes

and half closes into

sleep …

softly ever softly

...purring.
I love your first stanza.

Little did I know what lay ahead.

Where in the name of.....did you

conjure up this bizarre, suspenseful

and enjoyable composition.

It's tinged with pathos, horror,

and wicked humor.

I think Halloween was in the air where you are, today.

My Siamese Cat is sitting silently on my computer desk

over by the Tower.Just sitting there, staring at me.

What should I do, Nancy...get him some treats?