Yeah, I too like catetc, an entertaining class of animal - and as various
as us. There's a cat poem in my new book, my daughter's cat - Jezebel. I'll
post it soon, if'n you don't mind.

Keep writing , Ken. And tell us when and what The New Yorker says :-)

Andre de Corowa



On 26 June 2014 02:54, Patrick McManus <[log in to unmask]>
wrote:

> Had a few cats in my long years -so many characters -although Vile Boris
> was
> a one off- but cheery memories of others from way back as a kid Tweetie who
> insisted sleeping up on the fireguard of an open fire -and got singed now
> and then -then Ginger who used to attack dogs large dogs -and better stop
> reminiscing (if I can spell it) oh and Jessie who turned up on my doorstep
> and adopted me -his owner agreed cat had several
> moves of home his own idea
> Cheers Patrick Mc
> This comes under the etc of poetryetc
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
> Behalf Of Kenneth Wolman
> Sent: 25 June 2014 16:04
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: Cat poetry
>
> The late Douglas Clark used to do lots of cat poetry. I almost never do.
> But the current occupant of my home has inspired me by his interesting
> lifestyle. The second of the two is time-stamped because it's shortly after
> he woke me up and when I just dashed down anything.
>
> JAILBREAK
>
> The cat has gone missing. I have seen them die, be surrendered, but this is
> a first: become Dora the Explorer, anxious to hit the road (his name is not
> even Jack), anxious to leave me here between grief and fear, turned to
> anthropomorphic monsters risen from the imaginary sewer into the unseen
> fears from my own worst self. Is he dead?
>
> Has he found a new friend and gone a-Maying?
> He can't do much with a cat named Corinna, he was neutered long ago, so
> it's
> playtime, pure, carousing 'cross the countryside, smelling the roses,
> perhaps a dinner of mice, of squirrels. Who can know?
>
> A friend assures me he is a natural-born killer and his domestic mask is
> his
> fraud against the world, if he goes out he must hunt to live, and life is
> his prime directive, his mission.
> If he comes back to me it will also be his will, a love still pure,
> divorced
> from hunger, come home again because love, too, is in his will.
>
>
> JOY
>
> I do not have the words for joy
> so much misery and heartbreak
> for so long and suddenly
>
> headbutted by my lost cat
> 1:40 AM, the face staring at me
> Why are you sleeping old fart
> I am home after four days
> I am hungry there were no field-mice
> so feed me get up feed me.
>
> There are no words only crying
> holding him to me a Mary Oliver moment
> holding him to me like my very life
> depends on him
>
> for it has and does gray is dispelled
> banish misfortune indeed
> he has banished it answered prayers
> a full food dish and water all his
> my tears are my life returned
>
> colors where was only shadows and dust
> four-legged child where there was only
> the orphaned ancient child.
>
> May 22 2014, 4:21 AM
>



-- 
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
'Undercover of Lightness'
http://walleahpress.com.au/recent-publications.html
'Shikibu Shuffle'
http://abovegroundpress.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/new-from-aboveground-press-shikibu.html