our life with cats

cats for life and our life with cats
they’ve come to us in many hats
each different and yet just the same
personalities in all but name
 
from moggies to fine Tonkinese
they’ve loved us but done as they please
demanding food at dead of night
or shouting ’bout some fall or fight
 
amused us with their funny ways
their antics made us laugh for days
they’ve brought us gifts that weren’t quite nice
like lizards legs or headless mice
 
they’ve talked to us in their cat speak
had endless fun with hide and seek
they’ve rubbed and purred to show they care
clawed at the rugs and scratched the chair
 
curled up on laps with eyes of love
just daring us to make a move
we’ve loved them ’til their day was done
and miss them each and every one

Grandad

My grandad was a lovely man
and I will tell you all I can
He wore a watch upon his vest
I’d hear it ticking on his chest
He’d mend my dolls if they got sick
and help me build things brick by brick
and hide my pudding as a trick

He wasn’t tall and he was stout
It’s true I never heard him shout
but he loved to sing a silly song
and teach me how to sing along
and show me how to plait some string
or find a pond with tadpoles in
or push me higher on a swing

I did not like his moustache bristles
which pricked and felt to me like thistles
‘Give Gramps a little kiss he’d say’
But I would turn my head away
It must have made his poor heart sore
but I was only three or four
He died before I grew much more

Oh Grandad, what I’d give today
to hug and kiss you come what may

Grenfell – the betrayal

where escape routes were none
where there was nowhere to run
where the flames lit the sky
where they prayed not to die

how they screamed while we cried
how come so many died
how come nowhere to turn
how come ‘jump or you’ll burn’

what a loss for those living
what they feel – unforgiving
what horrors they saw
what hell can hurt more

who fought against flames
who’s still searching for names
who still digs where fire laid them
who was it betrayed them

why were people not heard
when they passed on the word
where those dangers might lie
– who turned a blind eye?

 

image is courtesy of the Daily Mail

what can’t be cured

Today the wine of life turned bitter.
Pain seeped into my mind and heart
with the almond flavor 
of bespoke poison,
although I could not tell you
exactly why it came.
I only know that it’s colour
is the deepest, darkest blue
and that I must close my eyes
for fear that I may drown.

Bright hope, that giver of strength,
left by a different door.
While patience, at an end with indecision, 
pride and self-delusion,
followed closely behind.
But, just as a dying flower cannot
help but lose its petals and decay,
so must I rest my weary head
and accept that nothing will cure 
the cause of my despair.

in passing

What became of what’s-her-name
the one who hung around last fall?
Or was it spring, I can’t recall?

Seemed quite sad and melancholic.
We thought she might be alcoholic.
Remember her?

She was with us at your brothers ‘do’
And we talked of how our nails grew?
Well, WE talked, she listened.
Or seemed to.

Then she cried, her mascara ran.
Describe her? I don’t think I can
No, never saw her with a man

Yes! That’s it, you’ve got her now
The one who said you were a cow
to laugh at her that time.

Hey, WOW!

Gassed herself? And her cat?
Why ever do a thing like that?

So who’s now living in her flat?