Cattitude
The grey cat cries and cries for food, but in spite of her bitchin’,
it seems there’s naught to satisfy her in her master’s kitchen.
She would not eat the Whiskas tuna that she loved last week.
Fresh hamburger? She only deigned to have a peek.
Pork tenderloin she shuns as well as beef and cream and cheese.
A bit of gravy is another treat that does not please.
Fresh bass I bought and poached for her merely got the nose.
No mouth was closed upon it. It was not a taste she chose.
Chicken in soup with veggies? She chanced to have a taste,
then raised her nose and flicked her tail and made away in haste.
There’s canned tuna on the counter with the other four
new cat foods that I bought today at the cat food store.
I’ll try them out tomorrow, but I do not have much hope.
Chances are her majesty will only sniff and mope.
What is it with these felines that gives them attitude?
I’ve never seen the double of this old girl’s cattitude.
She awakens me at scandalous times, demanding of her feed,
then looks at me askance when I attempt to fill her need.
I fear it’s true she’s skin and bones––my fault it is supposed,
but I assure you that her fast is strictly self-imposed!!!
Not fiction! I made a special trip into town today in spite of my wracking cough, donned a face mask and braved Walmart. I bought fresh fish, which I abhor, for the first time in my life, along with all of the foods mentioned above and so far, she chanced one tiny bite. But, just checked and she drank all of the fresh cream I poured out for her. Her highness is satiated for the time being!
I’m linking this to dVerse Poets’ Open Link Night. See other poems HERE.
And to see their website, go HERE.
A friend asked these questions on Facebook. Thought I’d share them with you. Here are my answers. To play along, copy them and change the answers to your own. Please publish a link to your answers in comments below:
1. Do you like mustard? Yes
2. Choice of carbonated drink? SanPellegrino Clementina
3. Do you own a gun? No
4. Whiskey, Tequilla, Rum or Vodka? Gin
5. Hot dogs or Cheeseburgers? Both
6. Favorite Type Of Food? Mexican, Chinese, Thai
7. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes
8. What do you drink in the mornings? Papaya Smoothie
9. Can you do a 100 Pushups? Can’t do one.
10. Summer, Winter, spring or fall?? Summer, Spring, Fall
11. Favorite hobby? Making art, writing
12. Tattoos? No
13. Do you wear glasses? Yes. For everything
14. Phobia? Not being able to breathe
15. Nickname? Remi
16. Three drinks you drink? Water, Decaf Coffee, Gin and Tonic
17. Biggest Downfall? Unable to travel as I would like
18. Rain or Snow? Rain
19. Piercings? Just ears
21. Kids? 8 stepkids
22. Favorite color? Burnt Orange, Gold, Cobalt Blue
23. Favorite age? 39
24. Can you whistle? Enough to call the dog
25. Where were you born? Pierre, South Dakota
26. Brothers or Sisters? 2 Sisters
28. Surgeries? 4
29. Shower or Bath? Shower
30. Like gambling? Yes—a bit
32. Broken bones? No
33. How many tv’s in your house? 1
34. Worst pain in your life? My husband’s death
35. Do you like to dance? Yes
36. Are your parents still alive? No
37. Do you like to go camping? No. I used to.
Please play along! These are fun to do and fun to read.
Copy, paste, change the answer!!
Backdoor Sliders
I take a break from my last chore
to peer through glass, ceiling to floor.
For though a view I never lack,
my house’s eyes are all in back.
I watch the gardener cut and trim,
the locksmith to the right of him.
One scrubs the algae from the pool—
a craftsman polishing his jewel.
A man on ladder repairs the wall,
the tree-trimmer the highest of all.
See how we tend her outer skin–
they without and we within?
Yolanda sweeps the terrace floor,
then comes inside to sweep some more.
Inside I watch and labor, too,
for there are many tasks to do.
I dust and gather detritus,
smooth out wrinkles, straighten muss.
Three days a week we labor so
until I wonder if I know
which is the owner and which the thing
that luxury and comfort brings?
Dear house, is it you that harbors me,
or am I here to maintain thee?
The Boss:↓↓
RDP’s prompt for today is looking out of my backdoor. Since I did this prompt three years ago, I decided to reprint that post today. I had forgotten it. Hopefully, if you’ve been following me for that long, you have, too.
Verse for a Reclusive One
I refuse to say goodbye. I’d rather say hello
if you should ever come back from where you have to go.
In the interim, I’ll let my memories be my guide.
Sometimes they are the safest places to abide.
You decried my frivolous gestures, yet ate up all the cake
those birthdays when you swore festivities were a mistake.
Oh, my reclusive loved-one, why do you hide away?
You do not have the answer. That’s why you never say.
Prompts for today are goodbye, refuse, guide, frivolous and cake.
Secrets of a Warm Climate
After a hot afternoon,
a sudden rising chill wind
blows his canvas from the wall.
The pool, filled with the blood of the volcano,
is still hot soup warm after twelve hours of cooling. I slide into it,
all others in the house and neighborhood asleep or abed.
Strings of papyrus blown into the water
catch at me like cobwebs as I swim through viscous water.
I comb them from the water with my fingers
and launch them poolside.
Gentle music floats up from the town,
backup to the repetitious trilling of the nightingale
and the far-off Who? Who? Of an owl.
The crack of the house settling into night.
The wind singing in a different voice from every palm tree
under a clear sky filled with stars.
Air cool on my face,
water hot around my body— its currents like silken whips,
I try to remember sensuality with someone else attached to it.
Moving forward and back, then in circles around the kidney-shaped edge,
I am drunk on the night, making my own romance,
knowing that what matters, now that past loves are over,
is not sharp words or all the craziness of love’s endings,
but instead—the first yearning wishes met impossibly
by the answer in another’s eyes and voice, then mouth and hands.
What is important is that sweet pain of wanting—
the answering pain of wanting back.
All the fairytales of new love:
tropical sand or mountain canyons echoing the call
of goats and the answer of goatherds,
a first sight across a smoky room,
hearing a poet’s words about a past love
and, knowing that power could be directed towards me,
dizzy in love before I even met him.
His death or love dying first is not what it is important to remember—
just those days where love was everything that mattered.
And in this life gained after those first vanished loves,
”Send me a sign,” I say, looking to the stars.
And there is a flash, immediate.
Not a falling star,
but one shooting upward in a quick bursting flash of light.
Here is the prompt. And here is what others wrote for the prompt: dVerse Poets: Secret.
Photo by Giovanni Ribeiro on Unsplash. Used with permission.
Words of Wooing
He took her to the movies. He took her to the fair.
He raved about her choice of clothes. He doted on her hair.
He brought his uke and stood for hours strumming at her gate,
riffing on the talents of the lovely Kate.
Was he accurate? Were all his laudatory quips
valid? All those praises of her swan neck and her lips?
Not likely, but it’s lucky that the lady was so vain
that she took verbatim the praises of her swain.
They married in the autumn and by spring the truth was known.
He no longer sang her praises. She had to sing her own!
Prompt words for today are movie, valid, riff, accuracy and gate.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 