Poetry With A Mission

...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

Pussycat, Pussycat

It’s a jungle out there. Well, to a cat it is — a household cat,
That is, a pussycat who jumps up on the seat where I just sat.
And then just sits there, as much as to say, “Come on mate, where’s my treat?”
Leaving me to go hunting for another comfortable seat.

But once outside, he’s the hunter, slinking through bushes, scaling trees,
A roaming observer, watching for tiny creatures that eat cheese.
Well, so they tell us, for I’ve never seen cheese growing anywhere,
Nor running around on little legs, hollering, “I’m over here!”

Okay, back to the jungle, the woodpile — yes, any open door,
Or doors that can be opened via the tugging of a furry paw.
And there’s that nose, sniffing here, sniffing there -- you’d think they’d wear it out,
And that feline left hook, that passing butterflies attempts to clout.

Yes, the antics of pussycats, backyard investigators, who,
The perfumed trails of neighboring intruders actively pursue.
And who then add their own brand of perfume to that already sprayed,
Which I think in cat terms may mean, “I don’t like how far you have strayed.”

But there are plenty of other things that will amuse pussycats,
Or a human, for that matter, when felines act like acrobats.
Which is quite often, should you take the time to observe them at play,
And see how easily they get carried away, ’till you shout, “Hey!”

Well, I don’t mind fun, but I draw the line at some things however,
As cats are very intelligent — that is, sometimes too clever.
Mischievous might be a better word, given some things I see,
That has one think they’ve attended a scallywag’s academy.

Oh yes, pussycat, pussycat, where’ve you been? It’s late and I’m tired;
So much for that early night in a comfy bed that I desired.
And I guess you’ll plonk yourself right in the way of my legs — oh dear —
What a price one pays when a cat and a human the same bed share.

By Lance Landall