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TO OLIVIA MEOW
CONTENTS
Introduction
Cat Verse Inspired by Famous Poems
Free Verse and Beat Poetry
Odes
Rhyming Verse, Haikus, and Limericks
Acknowledgments
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INTRODUCTION
In central Milan, there is a lovely cat café. A space where a writer can sit and think while drinking a cappuccino out of a mug shaped like a cat. These serene writerly haunts sustain serious writers like myself. (Someone who studies literature and art and is supremely cultured.) It was on this last occasion I happened upon a small door marked “Biblioteca Gatto” I hadn’t noticed on previous visits. Being the naturally curious writer that I am, I turned the small brass knob and peered inside what indeed appeared at first glance to be a small “cat library.” Each volume was a slim one, and being in Italian, it wasn’t quickly obvious what the volumes contained, although my excitement mounted at the possibilities. Each title was bound handsomely in leather, with gold writing on the spine and cover.
After a conversation with the owner, a kind Milanese woman named Falsa Nome, whose family had run the cat café for generations, it was revealed to me that this astonishing library contained what might be the first of its kind in the world—a repository of literature and poetry written by the cats of the café over the last hundred or so years. She and her ancestors had dutifully transcribed the cats’ writings, and published them privately with a small printer in the same district as the café. It made sense to me. Italy, home to some of the world’s greatest writers and artists, would naturally be home to some very intelligent and literary inclined felines. Not knowing whether the books were of any interest to anyone but themselves, the owners of the cat café had kept the books for their own enjoyment and gradually ceased to realize the great literary importance of such a library.
I, of course, was immediately intrigued and, after many more conversations and phone calls, was able to secure the rights to translate the books into English for the first time and publish the poems abroad. Here in your hands is the first volume of that effort. A collection of the best (and only) cat poetry in existence, finally in print here for the first time. We hope you enjoy their efforts.
POETRY FROM SCRATCH
CAT VERSE INSPIRED BY FAMOUS POEMS
Classic poems are ones that we’ve enjoyed over the years (or studied once in high school), but, for some reason or another, are mostly lacking in cats. Here are some of your favorite poems, now with 100 percent more cats.
The Rodent Not Taken
Two rodents diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not pursue both
And being one feline, long I crouched
And watched one scurry as far as I could
To where it veered into the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was plump and wanted wear;
Though as for that mouse-grey hair,
Had rendered them really about the same,
And both that morning equally played
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back,
to snack.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two rodents diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less fit and spry,
And that has made all the difference.
“Dinner” is the thing with feathers—
“Dinner” is the thing with feathers—
That perches on the windowsill—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
Until—
And sweetest—in the tummy—
And sore must be Mittens—
Who couldn’t catch the little Bird
That kept me full—
I’ve heard it in the birdfeeder—
And on the birdbath Sea—
Yet—never tasted—in its Entirety,
It left no crumb—on me.
“A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way.”
—Mark Twain
Human, This Is Just To Say
I have eaten
the herbs
that were on
the windowsill
and which
you were probably
saving
for dinner
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so fresh
Human, This Is Just To Say
I have eaten
the Meow Mix
that was in
the silver bowl
and which
you were probably
thinking
would be my dinner
I will not apologize
it was delightful
so crunchy
and so dry
The Red Laser Pointer
so much depends
upon
a red laser
pointer
whooshing across
the carpet
I will catch it
this time
Fuzzymandias
I met a traveler from the yard next door
Who said: a vast and heavy leg of stone
stands in the garden. Topped with a bowl of water
half sunk, a flurry of sparrows bathe, whose chirps
They display well those passions for a summer bath—
They yet survived, our claws not stamped on those lifeless things,
Our paws that mocked them and their hearts that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“Concrete birdbath: Made in China:
Splash in me, ye mighty, and rejoice!”
Nothing beside remains, now. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare-boned
The lone and level feathers stretch far away.
O Captain! My Captain! (A Cat’s Revenge)
O Captain! my Captain!
Our fearful trip to the vet is done;
My body has weather’d every shot,
the prize you sought is won;
The house is near, the birds I hear,
the neighbor’s dog exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel,
this Honda vessel grim and daring:
But O scritch! scratch! scritch!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where o’er the steering wheel my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
As punishment.
For taking me to the vet.
Mice
I think that I must espouse
There’s no meal as lovely as a mouse.
A mouse whose scar’t mouth is prest
Against my furry, beating breast;
A mouse that looked for cheese all day,
And lifts her rodent arms, now, to say;
Oh cat that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in your hair;
Upon whose bosom I’m now smushed;
Who intimately nibbles on my ears.
Please.
Pleas are made by fools like me,
But only you, cat, can set me fr
ee.
And so dear mouse, I let you go
A favor to you, my benevolence, shown
We live to dance another day
For now, be sure:
Stay out of my way
“Thou art the Great Cat, the avenger of the Gods, and the judge of words, and the president of the sovereign chiefs and the governor of the holy Circle; thou art indeed . . . the Great Cat.”
—Inscription on the Royal Tombs at Thebes
Box
I wandered lonely as a tom
That stalked on high o’er couch and stair,
When all at once I saw an Amazon,
(A box, of golden brown)
Beside the fireplace, beneath the table,
Stoic and inviting in the spring air.
Continuous as milk and sunbeams
And toy mice that light my way,
These boxes appear in a constant stream
Full, then emptied; consumerism for another day
Along the postman’s journey up our way:
Ten thousand boxes saw I at a glance,
Announcing my owner’s debt, in a sprightly dance.
The favors inside them danced; but they
Once emptied, out-did the sparkling gifts in glee:
A cat could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I jumped—and settled—but little thought
What wealth the box to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
It flashes upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my mind with pleasure locks,
And dances with the empty box.
Do Not Stand at My Bowl and Stare
Do not stand at my bowl and stare;
The food’s not there. I did not eat.
I am a thousand hours starved.
I wait and watch; the turkey’s carved.
I ate the droppings on the floor.
It’s not enough. Please give me more.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting crush
Of frantic pawing on your chest,
I am the soft meow giving you no rest.
Do not stand at my bowl and tease;
The food’s not there.
I must eat—please.
Do Not Go Gentle into that Carrier for Pets
Do not go gentle into that carrier for pets,
All cats should burn and rave at close of cage,
Rage, rage against all trips to the vet.
Though wise cats, at their end, know she cares (the vet),
Because their meows had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that carrier for pets.
Good cats, the last wave by, beginning to fret,
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Wild cats who caught and ate the birds they met,
And learn, too late, they grieve freedom on its way,
Do not go gentle into that carrier for pets.
Grave cats, near death, who meow and kvetch
Sad howls could sing, be light and be gay,
Rage, rage against all trips to the vet.
And you, my owner, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that carrier for pets.
Rage, rage against all trips to the vet.
FREE VERSE AND BEAT POETRY
These non-rhyming poems are all about cool cats living their best lives. Creating art. Wearing sunglasses. Riding boxcars. Best read out loud standing up with a glass of red wine in your best Lawrence Ferlinghetti voice.
California Cat
So cool, hanging out there on Hollywood
Boulevard
With the tourists and the hangers on
By Mann’s Chinese Theatre
The costumed superman and the
down-on-his-luck Dora the Explorer
The cat says “no pictures please”
That cat is California cool
Might as well have a skateboard
Sunglasses
Tiny cigarette
But instead
He lounges
Sidewalk splayed
Watching the crowds, taking it all in
Dreaming of City Lights
Typing on his tiny keyboard
Finishing the screenplay
That’s going to change the world
88 Lines About 44 Cats
Mittens was my first true love
Her white paws were a masterpiece
Frankie was my landlord’s cat
He just came with the lease
Tiger didn’t like the snow
He stayed inside ‘till end of May
Smokey loved her sunbeams
She’d lie in one all day
Harley was a six-toed cat
In Florida he’s quite famous
Riley ate the birthday ribbon
We had to pull it from his anus
Rummy was an ancient soul
He liked to nap upon the bed
Harry loved adventure though
He often slept atop the shed
Happy was a lovely cat
She liked to purr and watch the birds
Gary wasn’t potty trained
He never covered up his turds
Oscar was a mangy thing
His best friend was an alley rat
Rascal licked his red-brown tum
Sitting like the Buddha sat
Molly had a quiet nature
You could find her by the plants
Zorro loved his laser pointer
Bust it out and watch him prance
Flora was a mommy cat
She raised her litter well
Borace was a plump old thing
He looked like a big brass bell
Clem refused to use the cat door
Whining ‘till you let her in
Honey was a rescue cat
We found her in the garbage bin
Now Lucy loved to lap-sit
If you were sitting—she’d be there
And Boris was a big ragdoll
He was covered in gorgeous hair
Olivia was a Calico
She ate only caviar
Little Bo was a scaredy cat
He would throw up in the car
Meow Meow clawed the carpet
And the staircase and my bed
Roxy was a Garcia fan
She was a dedicated deadhead
Angora came from Turkey
She was cultured and refined
Namaste was from Calexico
She loved yoga (just the cat pose, mind)
Neville was a London cat
His monocle was the clue
Tex was straight from Dallas
And had a taste for BBQ
Luna loved to model nude
For Friskies and Purina
Captain was less adventurous
He just hung about the marina
Angel met a violent fate
In a pet cemetery she resides
Sox was into baseball
Loved to toss that old cowhide
Peanut was a gentle soul
She liked her people quiet
Toby was a party cat
He’d be happy in a riot
Smokey was a socialist
He really felt the Bern
Malia was a Hilary fan
She felt it was a woman’s turn
Coco was a fashion cat
She loved her pillbox hats
While Dexter had a murderous streak
From birds to bugs to bats
Muffin had a cooking show
She loved to bake mouse pie
While Daisy was a garden cat
The fresh catnip got her high
Casper
was a ghost cat
She died in 1883
While Ziggy loved her Bowie
And dreamed of a space odyssey
MacDonald was from Newfoundland
He loved to eat cod tongue
While Sister Feline Puss Puss
Lived cloistered as a nun
Concrete Cat
Ear Ear
Cat cat cat Cat
Cat cat cat Cat
whisker Cat cat cat Cat whisker
Cat cat Cat
Cat cat Cat
Cat cat cat Cat tail
Cat cat cat cat Cat tail
Cat cat cat Cat tail
Cat cat Cat tail tail
Concrete Pounce
Ear Ear
Cat cat cat Cat cat cat
EYE cat EYE Cat cat cat cat cat tail
Cat cat cat cat Cat cat cat cat cat cat tail
Paw Paw Cat cat cat cat cat cat tail tail tail tail
Mouse
Cat on the Union Pacific
My ancestors were mousers
On the Mayflower.
My pop’s an Italian-American mouser
In Boston’s North End.
And me—
A drifter. A true tom.
Left the family business
Never to return.
Domestication skipped
This generation.
So—
Put up your posters
Post the ads
I’m headed west, dear Owner.
The 3:04 to Reno
Leaves tomorrow.
I’m already gone.
The kibble, the warmth,
The quilts, the comfort—
It’s not enough to keep me.
I’m headed west, dear owner.
Riding the rails,
The pot of mice at the end of the rainbow
Awaits.
Mistaken Identity
(to be read aloud while snapping your fingers and wearing a beret)
A cat
Is
Not just a cat—
*snap snap snap*
When
Is
A cat not a cat?
*snap snap*
Man
I’m telling you—
It’s not
A cat
*snap*
When it’s
Just
*snap*
A
Kitten
There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats.
—Albert Schweitzer
ODES