Flexing writing muscles by Barbara Edwards

I recently posted poetry on another blog. It’s not something i do regularly- write poetry, I mean. But I recommend writing poetry to stretch your skills. Poetry is a different way of observing. You must make your view compact yet compelling. Try it. You may find an unexplored talent.


Winnie


The damned cat died.

Old age, I suppose,

That mangy hair-ball.


Remember her silly kitten act?

Chasing dust balls from under the bed

To scatter tatters across the rug

And sneeze pieces clinging to her whiskers.


How many times did she drop an offering

At my feet or on the back step?

Mighty hunter of baby birds and mice

And once a two foot long snake.


Grooming in a ray of sunlight,

She’d stare contemptuously at my entrance

When I opened the door

Her tongue a tiny pink raspberry.


A purring lump against the small of my back

On cold, lonely nights.

Her raspy tongue would lick my chin

And tickle before I pushed her away.


So the damned cat died.

And I’m putting her ragged toys,

Bowl and collar into a brown bag.

To dispose of. Maybe.


I’ll miss the damned cat.

Much more than I ever miss you.

So tomorrow I’ll get another kitten,

Although I can’t think why.


Tonight there is an empty doorstep.

And a cold hollow at the small of my back.

And I’ll cry again, for both of you.

But mostly because the damned cat died.


I couldn’t find a picture of Winnie. She was a grey domestic.


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Filed under: writing Tagged: Barbara Edwards,, Cats, poetry
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Published on May 04, 2013 22:36
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