Poetry: I have a cat

I have a cat, and she is not mysterious.
Shoulders hunched; a twitching tail,
Pointed ears and eyes so curious,
All these show a hunter hale-
I have a cat, and she is not mysterious.

I have a cat and she is not aloof.
For one, she knows I let her eat.
She recognizes “No!” as a reproof,
Begs to play and always comes to greet.
I have a cat, and she is not aloof.

I have a cat, and she is scarcely wicked.
(Perhaps a little, casing cupboard doors
Or leaping when she knows she hasn’t listened.)
No more solitude with all its bores-
I have a cat, and she is scarcely wicked.

But when she walks in utter silence,
There is the stamp of self-reliance,
Some flicker of a tiger’s child.
I have a cat – and she is wild.

I got Sydney in June; she’s an adventure and a half and a pretty major reason for not blogging much in that month (writing was the other). This has been simmering in my head since the first day she came home.

Cat and book


October Reading: Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”

To celebrate the month of October, all the weeks of which are steeped with ghosts and goblins by association, I’ve been delving into my favorite horror reading, and since today is apparently the UK’s National Poetry Day (and the world’s too if Twitter is any indication), today seems like a fitting one to talk about “The Raven,” by Edgar Allan Poe, one of my all-time favorite poems and an exceptionally creepy tale. Continue reading

Poetry- The Fairies’ Hour

The Fairies’ Hour

If you dare to walk into the mountains,
Be sure to have blessed water in your hand.
If nighttime falls and you see starlit fountains,
Know that wonder marks a dangerous land.
Should music sweet fall on your careless ears
With melodies of joy both fair and eerie,
Be warned: those revels bring you only tears.
You are but human; they’re otherworldly.
If you insist on walking in the night
And near their haunts, moved by some strange folly,
Know the force of their spells ends at first light,
And if you go, bring a branch of holly.
These mountains at night are filled with power;
There fairy-folk dwell and midnight’s their hour.

A/N: The meter of this one is completely off-kilter and the fact that it was a sonnet put a bit of a cramp on all the things I wanted for this warning against the Good People. That said, I rather like it. Hope you enjoyed!

Guest Poetry- The Devil’s In The Desert

I’m not sure how many of you know this, but I come from a large family. A very talented family, whose abilities in the realms of art, acting, reading, and general understanding all overshadow mine. This post is a showcasing of that ability- this poem was written by my sister after she read this scribbling (quite literally a scribble, I wrote it while waiting at a train station), and her work is superior to mine in pretty much every respect. So enjoy this glimpse into the verse of my very talented younger sister! Continue reading

Poetry- A Statue’s Smile

A Statue’s Smile

Storm clouds had gathered high over the moor
While the wind moaned like a spirit in pain.
The light from the inn shone out like a beacon,
Tainting the night with a bright gold stain.
Laughter rang out from the wayside building,
As a merry tale concluded with cheer.
In answer, gales pounded the lonely inn,
And one man jumped up with an air of delight.
“Here we have time in the form of a storm-
let us sit back and hear tales of the dark
To give a shiver or two while we wait
For morning’s arrival.” They all agreed. Continue reading

Poetry- Devils Dance In Droves

Devils dance in droves
In the country and the city.
Knowing what they know,
They laugh without any pity.
Taking hearts and minds
In their clever taunting hands,
Whispering their lines
Of light, and making sweet demands.
All their works and deeds
Do nothing to ease their sorrows.
Their wits can only thieve,
Not comprehend all that life borrows.

A/N: Just something where the first two lines popped into my head and I wanted to see where they led. Just a distraction- back to paper writing now…