Random Poems of Cat Hartliebe

Random Poems of Cat Hartliebe

  By Cat Hartliebe

  Copyright 2013 Cat Hartliebe

  This book is dedicated to the first person to buy my short story: Capt. Richard.

  The cover art made by: Cat Hartliebe.

  I hope you have a wonderful time reading.

  -- Table of Contents--

  1 A Poem

  2 A Gift

  3 Master, Please Tell.

  4 Thank You For Becoming A Mother

  5 Shadow Book

  6 My Most Prized Possession: A Memory

  7 Try to Praise the Dish Washer

  8 Trees (short story)8 Trees

  9 Freedom

  10 Desert Turtle

  11 Cat

  12 The Sweetest Rose

  13 A Long Stupid Plane Trip (short story)

  14 The Stream of Love

  15 Her Garden of Life

  16 The Last Winter’s Storm

  17 The Night

  18 Darkness

  19 The Glass Slipper

  20 The Water Changes Form

  21 The Balance Feather

  22 The Cycle

  23 What Are…

  24 Friendship

  About the Author

  1 A Poem

  (They are mysterious little things, poems.)

  Fleeting like a sparrow,

  Skillfully chasing

  This unknown assailant,

  Wonder at the calmness of its flight.

  Once you grab hold, and hang on,

  You may not know how

  Dangerous you have just become.

  2 A Gift

  (This is a gift from me to everyone. My way of saying "I love you" without including those three precious words.)

  It comes in no package.

  I’m sorry the cost is free.

  I am not giving you very little.

  It seems like eternity.

  I hope that you like it.

  I’m giving you my best.

  It’s not what you requested.

  I think it’s better than the rest.

  I spent lots of time deciding.

  It’s not what you might think.

  I give you the gift of my heart.

  And I won’t give you the receipt.

  3 Master, please tell.

  (This is a helper asking to know all the secrets. Would you tell?)

  Task me master

  Tell me what’s next

  Show me the story

  The life of the Rex

  Help me Master

  I wish to know

  Who comes in after

  What starts the show?

  Difficult master

  Why won’t you speak?

  Give me your answers

  Let me take a peek.

  4 Thank You For Becoming A Mother

  (For those of you who adopt, I applaud you. This poem is for you.)

  You never had to do it;

  There are plenty other options.

  Buy a cat,

  Or a dog,

  Or extreme babysitting.

  But, instead, you wanted it all:

  The good, the bad, and the ugly.

  You opened up your arms and heart

  To someone lost and lonely.

  To you and all those like you,

  I feel much obligated

  To give my thanks, my admiration.

  So, thank you for everything.

  Thank you for becoming a mother.

  5 Shadow Book

  (Written for my mom.)

  It calls to me.

  At lunch, I hear it.

  It whispers “read?”

  I dare not answer back.

  So much to do, so little time.

  It wants me to come back.

  I cannot listen yet.

  The kids scream; the dog barks.

  It still calls to me.

  I lay the kids to bed.

  Night allows for some quiet.

  It opens to the last page read.

  I read until morning breaks.

  My duties begin again.

  It cries as I leave it alone.

  I never sleep,

  But luckily, my children do.

  6 My Most Prized Possession: A Memory

  (For my father.)

  It was early.

  Very early for me.

  The sun was not yet up.

  School would not start.

  I was young.

  Before Dad got cancer.

  Before I thought dolls were overrated.

  But I remember it well.

  Still half asleep in my pjs.

  My mother woke me up.

  She had since gone back to bed.

  Dad was heading off to work.

  Sitting in the front seat.

  Of this large blue van.

  I was asleep.

  But I felt like an empress.

  My brothers could not come.

  This was My trip.

  I would see Nan and Pop Pop.

  They would be jealous.

  Driving north on the parkway.

  Dad woke me up to say.

  “Cathy, look the sun rises.”

  I look amazed at the beauty.

  That smile I had.

  It meant a lot to Dad.

  At that moment during the ride.

  I knew: I loved my dad.

  Much has happened since.

  But not enough to make me forget.

  The day that started perfect.

  Just me and Dad in the front seat.

  7 Try to Praise the Dish Washer

  (This has the same lyrical scale as another's poem which I do not remember. I love it and hope someone else learns to love their dishwasher.)

  Try to praise the dish washer.

  Remember last night’s supper,

  And roast beef, cups of tea, the peas.

  The fungi that methodically overtake

  The abandoned lunch trays of children.

  You must praise the dish washer.

  You watched the lake of bubbles and suds;

  One of them will clean the fork,

  While greasy pans awaited others.

  You’ve seen the refuse heading downward,

  You’ve heard china ting carefully.

  You should praise the dish washer.

  Remember the moments when we were together

  In the stained kitchen and the sink sputtered.

  Return to the gushing facet like a waterfall compared.

  You gathered dust in the attic during summer

  And cardboard covered over the best wares.

  Praise the dish washer

  And the silverware a seller brought,

  And the soothing hands that stray and vanish

  And return.

  8 Trees

  (People who are trapped in a world may or may not be happy being removed from it.)

  Asolly á Roma did not like to go out. She is a Roman from Rome and she hates the humans who live in her home.

  “Her hair is wild. Her demeanor is sad. She does not listen to a thing that’s been said. Asolly’s a witch of the darkest kind who wants to live out in the woods like the swine. She doesn’t respect us. She cannot joke. Her mother’s a sinner; her father’s a bloke. She deserves to be worthless; she deserves only death. For Asolly’s a beggar, the best Rome has had.” The other Romans would tease her.

  She is without friends. She is without love. She is turning out worse off than dirt. Asolly just cries out her tears in pain. When Mother comes home, she is struck with the physical same. She leaves the house to heal her own skin. Rome is quiet; only the drunks with their sins.

  As
olly cannot stay here, for if she gets caught, by the police, she’s a beggar, by the drunks, she’s a slut. It’s happened before, both of those things. She runs out of town to the promise of trees.

  She stays with the trees all night long until Anthony calls to her out of her new home. “Sister, beggar, drunkard’s slut. Lovely Asolly, come speak with me of it.”

  Asolly, completely frightened, falls into the young lad. “Who are you to know my name and I not know of you?”

  “Lovely Asolly, give me your hand. Forever we will leave this desolate land.” Anthony takes her away from her Rome to live in Barcelona where their children will forever grow.

  9 Freedom

  (Definitely feeling this way here nowadays)

  I came to this country hopeful.

  My genes will be well alive.

  My family at its happiest,

  My tools marred this land.

  Graceful as the leaves dropped

  My spirits heighten here.

  My life be loved.

  My senses overwhelmed.

  Turning over the years,

  My given things taken,

  My stew pot stolen.

  My family in ruin.

  What comes will go,

  But wish it not.

  For here I came,

  Even if the freedoms got,

  Are all gone away.

  10 Desert Turtle

  (Leaving home in search of others, oh what a journey; oh what a life.)

  Leaving the seas behind and

  Reaching out towards open land,

  This is where my story began.

  I never thought that it would be so cold

  When the wind blows and the sun goes.

  Drifting over dunes of sand

  Looking and searching for the promised land;

  I want to see those much like me

  Who left the seas in search of trees.

  Somewhere I will seek my end.

  On surf I lost, in weeds I win,

  At least according to my friends.

  Those friends of mine, I do seek out

  And they are no where to be found.

  The turtles that left before

  To never return any more

  I seek them, where could they be?

  I want to find my friends beyond the seas.

  Could vultures hide them from my sight?

  Did the dunes cover them at night?

  Maybe they found another sea?

  Or maybe they seek out me?

  I want to find my friends beyond the seas,

  So thus, I left the watery deep

  And far and wide as the winds go

  And the sand blows and the sun rolls,

  This I will search forever more

  Until I find my long lost hoard.

  The seas they left for gone, for good,

  And I will no longer wait for them.

  Searching across this harsh cruel land

  Is me and my loneliness.

  11 Cat

  (What cat is this?)

  Roaming the plains of “Africa”.

  Sitting watching MY domain.

  I purr and growl how this is a pain.

  Scraping my claws on the ground.

  Yawn and wait until the day leaves

  And the night starts to play.

  The animals do not fear me here.

  I still patiently watch,

  But it seems as if the lights don’t go out.

  Meat is tossed my way.

  I dare not take it.

  Scavenge I do not.

  These creatures make faces,

  But whose to say I care?

  My voice goes off and they run scared.

  Maybe signs would tell me something.

  If only I could read or speak.

  Then they would say to me,

  “Why should the cat be caged?”

  12 The Sweetest Rose

  (Roses: thorny, smelly, and beautiful.)

  A symbol of beauty, of love, and desire:

  A rose is much like the truest flower.

  Who cannot perceive what this

  Little thorny flower means?

  The thorns show pain of life for love,

  When clipping down or running from.

  The red rose can right the wrongs

  Of lover’s quarrels and misplaced trust.

  Although the rose can be so sweet,

  Like life, it lies through its teeth.

  13 A Long Stupid Plane Trip

  (This story was written at random and has nothing to do with planes.)

  Sitting on my stupid seat in the stupid airplane place… I lean on the person closest to me; turned out he was a strange guy bleating…

  I shuttered at the thought and leaned far away, where I met your eyes and the tears gave way. My voice began to speak, and the noise was deafening, and I cannot believe, I told you everything. I didn’t know your name until the end of my spiel. I sat in the stupid airplane and listen to your deal… You were a Jersey college student and I was a Missouri cocktail waitress… We always after began our conversations with “Garden State, how’s ya… everything’s fine, Show Me”. I can’t believe that stupid trip out west caused us to meet like that, but I can remember the second our eyes met. It is the only thing that kept me working and not murdering that short trip long ago…

  Now we stand together and I take your hand forever. And I look back to that day so very long ago... It was a Tuesday. I had to head cross country for the stupid job that fired me within a week. You had to visit family since you left for college, and we went and spent the entire vacation together like two love birds given freedom. At the end, I handed you my number and my address for your reference, and you returned with yours… We called each other the next day at the same time making the phone fail. We both shrank at the act, but went to write letters instead…

  After not too long the job that fired me had let me go and off to his college I went. We got our degrees making good grades and became very excellent… I even remember what my momma said the day I graduated… “If it weren’t for him, you would never have of made it.” So now my Garden State and I, Show Me stand at the alter made of the government’s might. As yesterday, I technically stood alone, and tomorrow, I will stand paired like everything is right.

  14 The Stream of Love

  (The desire for a perfect life is found in nearly every person, but what if you had the perfect life if you only focused on the rosy side.)

  Where ever one might roam,

  The colors flavor what does grow.

  In times of sorrow look around:

  The deepest reds and the lightest greens

  Give off the feeling of living dreams.

  So, no matter who you are

  The only option is to greet the world.

  Totally off the centered place

  Is the stream of love and sugared grace.

  In this stream you may see

  The life you always wished to breathe,

  But maybe it just shows to you

  The life you live out loud in truth.

  For the stream of love mirrors you

  With rose colored watered proof.

  15 Her Garden of Life

  (My grandmother before she passed was a lively soul who owned a farm. This is her dedication.)

  Sitting still in her living room

  With her husband and her furniture,

  I beg to make the cookies,

  I wish to stay the night,

  I hope the fresh veggies are ready.

  Working hard in her great yard

  With her flowers and her plants,

  I feel my hands and knees ache,

  I see the beauty she creates,

  I hear the animals celebrate.

  Dancing to the music in her world

  With her friends and her family,

  I take another twirl around her,

  I request
to stay a little longer,

  I grin at how happy she is, and

  I am glad to be one of her closest friends.

  16 The Last Winter’s Storm

  (I have nothing to say.)

  It comes so fluidly,

  Connecting to become the hardest hitting.

  No one wants to rejoice,

  Even in the thick of it.

  We wield the storm of ending power,

  That gave up only those brief months past.

  We sat upon and smiled,

  As the snow covered the important tasks.

  We knew it was uneasy…

  To give up control of our fields,

  But winter was never easy during,

  Our lives in the constant wheel.

  After all these chances,

  We made up our own race.

  Now, we dictate our own prowess,

  Since everything comes together,

  Within the last winter’s storm,

  At least until after another fall’s reign.

  17 The Night

  (Looking at the night in a matter other than as evil, you may find something far better than daylight can offer.)

  The bright night calls to us

  The little ones waiting patiently

  For something big to come about

  To bring the careless and the free.

  The hope and wait and wonder

  May be what you expect tonight.

  With love and feelings open

  The skylight seems so bright.

  We can only see what is there to see.

  We can only be what we once were.

  We are standing, waiting, watching

  For dawn to break the power of the night.

  18 Darkness

  (Dedicated to my decreased great uncle Happy. He was always the life of any party he was at. He is the one I wish I could be more like.)

  The shadows cling to everything;

  The world is ripe in black

  Where we stand nothing is seen.

  Set in whole and empty parcels

  Set in loose pulls and pushes

  Tying up every unit back to what it was.

  See the world is darker yet,

  See the causes have all been set,

  I do not wish to go back yet.

  The world grows even darker.

  The sights are harder, sharper,

  And we are standing amongst the mists.