POEMS

The Little Cat Angel By Leontine Stanfield

The ghost of a little white kitten
Crying mournfully, early and late,
Distracted St. Peter, the watchman,
As he guarded the heavenly gate.
"Say what do you mean," said his saintship
"Coming here and behaving like that?"
"I want to see Nellie my missus,"
Sobbed the wee little ghost of a cat.
"I know she's not happy without me,
Won't you open and let me go in?"
"Begone," gasped the horrified watchman,
"Why the very idea is a sin;
I open the gate to good angles,
Not to stray little beggars like you."
"All right," mewed the little white kitten,
"Though a cat I'm a good angel, too."
Amazed at so bold an assertion,
But aware that he must make no mistake,
In silence, St. Peter long pondered,
For his name and repute were at stake,
The placing the cat in his bosom
With a "Whist now, and say all your prayers,"
He opened the heavenly portals
And ascended the bright golden stairs.
A little girl angel came flying,
"That's my kitty, St. Peter," she cried.
And, seeing the joy of their meeting,
Peter let the cat angel abide.

This is the tale of a kitten
Dwelling now with the blessed above,
It vanquished grim Death and High Heaven
For the name of this Kitten was Love.

Cat Kisses

Sandpaper kisses
on a cheek or a chin-
that is the way
for a day to begin!

Sandpaper kisses-
a cuddle and a purr.
I have an alarm clock
that's covered in fur!

by: Author Unknown

A Tribute to Scarlett, the Brooklyn calico who rescued her five four week old kittens from a fiercely burning building on March 30, 1996. Nearly a month later, one male kitten died due to a virus and major complications from the fire. For three months, Scarlett and her other four kittens healed before all were adopted to loving homes.


From A Heroine

Why is everyone so surprised
That I saved my furry five;
That in spite of pain and danger
I brought them out alive?
True my eyes were barely open
But I heard their frantic wails;
Through smoke and flames I saw
Scorched ears and burning tails.
Every trip was a burdened choice
But I could make no other.
The rescuers have called me cat -
But I am also "mother."

by: Rosemary Asmussen

A Kitten

He's nothing much but fur
And two round eyes of blue,
He has a giant purr
And a midget mew.

He darts and pats the air,
He starts and cocks his ear,
When there is nothing there
For him to see and hear.

He runs around in rings
But why we cannot tell;
With sideways leaps he springs
At things invisible-

Then half-way through a leap
His startled eyeballs close,
And he drops off to sleep
With one paw on his nose.

by:  Eleanor Farjeon

My Kitten's Name is Tigger

My kitten's name is Tigger,
It climbs upon my shoe,
It looks just like a tiger,
And eats just like one too.

She chases the dog
As well as her tail,
She's fast as a mouse,
But as fat as a whale.

She's only eight months old,
But very bold.
She treats the dogs
As if she were old.

by Peter Benson

PICK ME

I once was thought lucky, but now that's 'old hat'
I'm not in the fashion, I'm a small black cat
The visitors come and they pass with a smile
I'm young and I'm friendly, but I've been here a while
"We wanted a tabby" I've heard them request
I know I'm not tabby but I'm doing my best
I've tried rolling over and waving my paw
But they just take a glance and pass by my door
"Maybe a ginger? That one looks nice"
But a small black cat? well no one looks twice
If you come to the Shelter, just watch and see
They'll choose all the others, but no one picks me!

by Iris Cruttenden

Star-Cats

Up in the sky is where the star- cats play,
Hidden by the light of day,
But when the moon shines & it becomes night,
You can see them playing under the moon's bright light,
You'll see them skip & jump & pounce,
Or chase round the sky, a poor lunar mouse,
They may try to catch a shooting star,
Playful kittens are what they are,
But when the sun comes out to say "it's time for bed,"
They hide in the clouds & play there instead,
They'll splash each other with raindrops & dew,
And makes shapes in the clouds,
For me & for you,
They never go to sleep or so it seems,
But you'll find them playing in your dreams,
You don't believe me do you?
Well some day these playful cats I'll show you,
But if you look hard in your dreams,
These magic star-cats you're sure to see

by Holly Workman

She's tall,
She's thin,
She's sleek,
She's proud,
She'll sleep where she is not allowed!
She's sly
And smart
And sometimes curt,
She'll jump upon your lap and flirt.
She's gentle,
Regal,
Lazy,
Smug.
She'll drink the milk inside your mug!
Inquisitive and playful too,
She'll play with the paper next to the loo!
But after all, she is my cat
And after all - they act like that.

by: Elena

CATTAILS IN MY COFFEE

While calmly sipping coffee of a morn,
And contemplating on why I was born,
I watch the cat climb softly to my lap
To primp and preen, then settle down to nap.

As he begins to wash his whiskery face
He will not keep his wandering tail in place.
And while it's waving wildly in the air
I try to track it down-it's never there.

It wiggles to the left as I reach right
And rebounds again in rhythmic delight.
I resume my reaching as it rises up,
Then comes down to coil in my coffee cup.

The tabby turns translucent eyes on me
As if to tell me, "There! now do you see?
If not for you my tail would still be dry.
Why can't you humans be as calm as I?"

And cleaning caffeine off his copious fur,
He curls into a ball, begins to purr.
A call upon his dreams he plans to keep,
So he proceeds to promptly fall asleep.

Sharon Brown