Poetry | Stories | Photography
How will he be mine?
Cat-like in her scheming, a devious plan develops.
A frog lover, she thinks ‘danger’ and dresses as an Ophidian.
Slinking along in the grass, she never saw the snake.
He saw a flurry of grass, a flying snake, and the cute neighbour running towards him.
A meeting in the backyard.
The bunny hops towards the smug ginger cat.
The cat takes a step forward, and the bunny remains steadfast.
The cat takes another step forward, ready to fight; the indomitable bunny hops over the cat, turns back, and giggles.
Paws pounce in the night
the whispering trees greet the
naughty Seraphim
my sweet darling pet
a fluffy cute butterball
meowing I’m spoilt
Today would be Emma’s 16th Birthday.
When Emma died in June last year, well, I don’t think I have felt anything worse. I have lost my Brother, one of my Uncles, and my Father; however, if I had a child, I think losing Emma would be like losing a child.
Also, we had to put her to sleep, which hurts your heart like nothing else.
Emma will always be a part of our lives.
I wrote a Haiku for Emma. She was always trying to leave us when we would come home, so we had to arrive through the garage.
A paw on the glass
The key turns, open the lock
A pouncing welcome
Your fluffy face comes to me, and I think of the way you pawed my face, a meow, or sleeping beside Daddy.
On the saddest of days, I look at a cloud shaped like your ears with tears of sadness for you, my sweet girl, for you were my Emma, and now you are gone.
The flower asked a bee, “When will the world end?” The bee looked dumbfounded, then buzzed away.
Perplexed, the flower asked a spider: there was only silence.
Then a cat sniffed at her petals. She asked the cat the same question. It seemed to prevaricate any response, then pissed on her stem.
To the string,
jumping in the air,
knocking over porcelain.
Cow manure hides in grass pockets. Pigs dream of staging a riot, while the chickens only care about designer hats. The cat meows, “Bastards”, and the dog barks at unseen things.
On the farm, a cool wind starts up as Bob steps in manure, and the cat meows, a smile, “Idiot”.
C & K 