National Poetry Month 29 – Cats I Know


She’s small and black with golden eyes

When angered, she jumps and flies

Across the room to speed attack

Against her foes, she aims a whack.


He’s grayish-blue and rather large

With a tiny head and body like a barge

He may appear to be alarming

But in fact, is rather very charming.




Poor thing was found in a crack den

but was fortunately born again

in our home where he holds his court,

king of the castle he stands athwart.


Cat Stevens


A big blue-eyed, piebald, friendly critter

except when he goes and misses the kitty litter

once he roamed around a farm

now at night he lays beside my arm.




She’s the oldest of the crew by far

came all the way from California by car

she runs to the bathroom like it’s a fire drill

and sits under the faucet until she gets her fill.



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