Cat Poems

Marigold's Mouse
T. Puss
Fia's Last Poem
Fia Ghost Song
Cold Night

MarigoldTheBeautiful's Mouse Poem

A catnip mouse is a very fine thing
to have in the house, if you've the nose for it -
and I do. When I feel cross I can pull out its tail,
and knock it about, and bite off its ears
(and I can tell you,
no one else will let me do that to them) AND. . .
when I feel good, I can lick it and sniff it
and pull out its tail and knock it about
and bite off its ears.
Altogether, a catnip mouse
is a very fine thing to have in the house.
          The world would be a better place, thinks me,
          if everyone had a catnip mouse. Then,
          when you feel bad, you can punch it about
          and when you feel good you can nibble its ears
          and you need not have any worries or fears
          of it

The above poem is by MarigoldTheBeautiful, a stunningly gorgeous silver sorrel Abyssinian cat. (Her other picture is at Cats.) I wouldn't have expected her to compose poems - I'd have thought Samantha or Fia much more likely to - but there you go. Since our silly legal system doesn't allow cats to hold copyrights, I hold it for her. I held the pen for her, after all.

The Gyroscopic Cat

Iíve been struggling with serious
stuff, like who am I? And where
am I going? Trying, you see,
to Make Sense Of It All. I keep asking
for guidance, for informative dreams,
for clues hidden between the petals
of the bluebells in my garden or the cards
of my tarot. And when I woke up this morning,
rocketing out of sleep like a ICBM, there
in my mind, as clear as the proverbial bell,
were the words: T. Puss, the gyroscopic cat,
whose tail whirls so fast that it very nearly
keeps him level. Write this down at once!

Messages from a universe gang agley?
Why only 'very nearly level'? Have the gods
at last gone totally mad? Or am I
just thick, or at least more so
than usual? None of these possibilities
seem altogether satisfactory. But
T. Puss, the gyroscopic cat, does
rather catch the imagination. And
itís certainly stopped me
from thinking all of those
serious thoughts, which were
quite paralyzing my mind.

Fia's Last Poem

Sometimes things hurt.
One can only endure.
Sometimes things get better;
but sometimes they don't,
and one can only endure.
Sometimes pain seems like
the only thing there is,
and one can only endure.
No one has enough endurance
to last forever.

Fia Ghost Song

When spring comes
the rosy thorn
shall bloom above
my buried bones,
and I shall soar
above the birds.

Cold Night

Pattacheek! Softly insistant paws
on a cold night. Let me under
the covers!
I lift up the blankets. A warm,
silk velvet Sami slips down
behind my knees. Peace ...
almost asleep... for a moment.
Another soft paw pattacheek.
Me too. Me too! Blankets
up again. Sylvie Butterbrain
becomes a tiny warm ball
of ecstacy under my arm.
Silence. Then, a sudden flurry.
That Maggie pattacheek. I want in!
Blankets up. Why don't I
learn to do this in my sleep?
Warmth at my back. Quiet.
Nothing moves. Soft purrs
behind my knees, by my back, under
my arm. Fine, lovely... but where
is Marigold? I lie there
more and more awake, until I hear
a scrabble of paws. Marigold
politely lets herself in, slips all the way
to my feet. Fur slippers. Bliss.
They all know how to do that themselves,
except Sylvie. Why pattacheek?
Is it fun?

Some years after I wrote that, I was coming back to my bed on a cold night and a dear person lifted the covers for me. It was incredibly welcoming! Now I know why the cats do that - it is so much better to be welcomed into that warm, sweet space by a loving arm lifting the covers than to climb in by yourself.

© Copyright by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.
Marigold's Mouse was first published in Crann Beathadh, the journal of the Order of the Ascending Spirit, in 1993, The Gyroscopic Cat in Otherworld Arts, May 1996, Fia's Last Poem here, June 1996, and Fia Ghost Song here, September 1996, and Cold Night in Otherworld Arts 1994.

Your comments will be read to MarigoldTheBeautiful,
who probably will listen with interest,
unless you are being critical,
in which case she will not listen at all, but I will.

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