[Goosegirl]

Just a thought, as I have never seen a poetry thread on the forums or - should've gone to whatsits? Did some a few years ago. This is a Haiku for my cat Polly (sadly not with us now). Would love to have your comments and  constructive criticisms. More to share if you want, such as "The Ballad of Sir Buster of Thurnham."

THE CAT
Lazy, dangling paw
Resting light on silken chest
Hides a killer’s heart.

Cat watch mouse watch cat.
Thudding heart match swishing tail
In a grim tattoo.

Cunning nonchalance!
Sweet deceit shines through her eyes
As her razors strike.

Smiles the cat content.
Curls her lips in arrogance.
Sleeps in innocence.

[compostqueen]

Lovely stuff. Very good. I like the staccato rhythm of it

I have written poems about the dog I walk but so far I've only shown them one.  They're for her little lad who is an unwilling reader. I thought if I wrote a funny poem each week about our walk that day he would be encouraged to read it when he got home from school 

[Jabberwock]

Goosegirl,

that was wonderful, I personally would love to hear more, especially "The Ballad of Buster of Thurnham"...............(my cat was named Buster and died unexpectedly at the age of 21.............mauled by a neighbours dog!! ..................till that point he had been in great health ).
Please share more 

[Goosegirl]

Oh thank you both. Posted in a mad moment, then kind of regretted it as I am so not one to blow my trumpet - just wanted people's views. Not really a proper Haiku, just the 5-7-5 syllables for each verse, but the form is right for my thoughts. Jabberwock - I am so sorry about your Buster - life can be **** sometimes. I have two poems about our Buster. He was well known in this farming area, so here it comes. The Ballad of Sir Buster will follow in my next post.    

NAUGHTY UNCLE BUSTER!

Uncle Buster was a Persian
(Other bits of genes as well).
Buster reigned supreme and made
A mouse’s life a living hell.

On his nocturnal p’rambulations
He’d watch traffic passing by.
This was quite remarkable
‘Cos Buster only had one eye.

Scruffy little ragamuffin.
Grooming him was quite a chore.
When you’d finished, he’d run off
And come back scruffier than before!

We paid the vet to have him neutered.
Buster never had a qualm.
He still performed his duties as he
Fathered kittens down the farm.

He would fight just like a tiger.
He’d a large vocabul’ry.
Fear was not a word he knew.
It wasn’t in his diction’ry.

On day sleeping, old and tired,
He lost his final fight
But – sometimes I think I see him;
One eye shining in the night. 

[compostqueen]

   Very nice. Thank you 

[Oliveview]

Lovely poems, I could picture both cats as I read the poems.

Pamela

[Jabberwock]

That was beautiful Goosegirl, what a lovely gift to be able to bring these cats to life with your words...............more please

[Goosegirl]

Jabberwock - so pleased you like them. I've a few more and shorter ones, but here is the Ballad of Sir Buster of Thurnham - just for you! 
THE BALLAD OF SIR BUSTER OF THURNHAM

Buster was a Persian cat.
A clever cat was he.
The bane of ev’ry mouse and rat.
As brave as brave could be.

‘T’was on a night when winds did howl
We heard the kitten cry
From in the dyke. A wat’ry hole.
We couldn’t pass it by.

All dressed in hats and mackintosh,
And pouring down with rain,
The search went on with feet awash
All up and down the lane.

The kitten wasn’t coming out
And we the worst did fear;
But suddenly a shout came out
As Buster did appear!

He trotted off and disappeared,
This fine, courageous cat,
To find the kitten wet and scared
By one enormous rat!

Now – Persians are a fearless breed
As everybody knows;
So Buster did the grandest deed
And punched it on the nose.

The rat he punched not once, but twice,
Then punched it once again,
Then kicked it up the backside
As it ran off down the lane.

Then Buster brought the little puss
And licked it on its head.
They had a wash, sat by the fire,
And then they went to bed.

A hero and a true-blood,
And the Queen was most impressed!
“ ... and you shall have a knighthood and a medal for your chest... “

“Oh hail to thee, Sir Buster mine.
Magnificent thou art!
You may be just a feline,
But you have a lion’s heart.”

[Jabberwock]

Goosegirl,
what a wonderful poem and the gallant Sir Buster certainly deserved his Knighthood.
Have just read this out to my hubby and we both agreed that this poem would not be out of place in a children's book................I would certainly buy it
You have a lovely talent for bringing your cats alive with your poetry, I'm honestly in awe.
Would love to read more if you are willing to share.

[Goosegirl]

Erm - gosh! On reading your last post, I have just realised that I should believe in myself and my abilities more, instead of seeking the approval of others in case it's not good enough - a common thread in my life, I'm afraid. As for a children's book? Well - never thought of that. Believe it or not, I'm in the process of a first draft for an updated booket about the history of Cockersand Abbey which is about a mile from where I live. I never thought of the possibility of me being an author, and now - another book? I will now give it some serious thought. Also, need to write more cat poems too - crumbs! Have done a few poems on other subjects but love cat ones. Here's two more - only one more to go called "When Oliver sprayed my computer." 

PRETTY POLLY
Pretty Polly.
Totally tortoiseshell.
Daintily dabbing,
Whiskers washing,
Tail twitching.
Nimble.
Nosy.
Claws clutching,
Fur flying
Eyes everywhere.
Motherly mum
Curled content.
Happy.
Home.

OUR SPIKEY
Spikey’s a cat. A dog he’s not.
He hunts all night and he sleeps a lot.

Spikey’s a tom because he’s male.
He is twelve and so is his tail.

Spikey is big. He’s got big claws.
He sticks them out from the end of his paws.

Spikey is black. His eyes are yellow.
He really is a splendid fellow!

[Goosegirl]

Oh Jabberwock - what have you started! Just written another one now. Wasn't the one I meant to write, but it just came out. Maybe a bit more work on it? Tomorrow will tell.
A CAT ON THE BED
You feel her there when, lying on your bed, you try to turn and move your head, or
Your feet, or whatever else is left of you that you can move.
Plumped rich on the duvet in different places
That provides different choices for her night’s dreams,
Her toes match yours in the nocturnal fight
For comfort and warmth, and the best place to be
To feel security.

She offers herself up to sleep with you where you sleep.
Turns when you turn. Accompanied snores of the night
Leave you wanting more, more, and even more.
Pushing body wants your nearness together with the fullness of your love
Surrounding her to re-assure you that all is well here in this special place.
When the day is done and, no matter what it has brought, we have both won
As we are still here together despite our past and our present.
Let us both rest now.

Let me feel the simple heat of your little body that it may warm me in cold hours,
And know I will forever give you all the love that I can. That is a lot of love
But no match for yours. We don’t need to use words, as we both know that it is the unspoken ones
That say more. For now, curl your paws around me tonight because
I need you like you need me. Promise? I know you will!

[Goosegirl]

Lovely stuff. Very good. I like the staccato rhythm of it. I have written poems about the dog I walk but so far I've only shown them one.  They're for her little lad who is an unwilling reader. I thought if I wrote a funny poem each week about our walk that day he would be encouraged to read it when he got home from school 

Compostqueen -please share your poems with us all. I for one would really love to see them. :happy:

[compostqueen]

I was reading Betjaman last night and he's really good I have to say. You get a serious poem and then he puts sommat daft in it and you start to titter, which is me really. 

I think up poems as I go walks with the dog but by the time I've got home I've forgotten it.  I don't really mind that. You don't always need to record everything. I like the fleeting nature of it 

These are the thoughts of the hound in high dudgeon after the dreaded visit to the salon

Bad Hair Day!

I’ve had a bad day today
It started much the same as any other
But went downhill straight away
When someone, mentioning no names,
Thought I was up for fun and games

Pulling on my lead I was directed up the street
Towards the dreaded barber's shop
My face white as a sheet!
Not for me the shampoo, cut or strip!!!!
Sitting in the chair I felt such a drip

Oh the shame of it
Shampoo in my hair
Teasing, brushing, plucking at my fur
What did I do to deserve this?
Life is so unfair

[Goosegirl]

CQ - why did you not share your poems with us before?? It's brilliant! Can  just imagine the "hang-dog"expression in the eyes, the look of mute resignation, and a suggestion of hope that a treat will be on the cards when this ordeal is over. Please - give us some more - there's only thee and me so far - there must be more out there, surely!

[compostqueen]

He looked so put out about it. He sits and tucks his head down and looks up at you 

This is the last verse of one I wrote a while ago. Again it was for the little boy to read after school

The Hindu Kush seemed far away
we’d never make it in a day
so homeward bound, around we turned
with aching feet, our tired limbs burned
Back home towards the dreaming Spire
a chewy bone and roaring fire