When we think of odes, we think of the famous “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” which is a serious and important poem. These odes are also very serious. They are about all the things cats seriously love: litter boxes, string, sunbeams. Enjoy!
Ode to a Fresh Litter Box
O beautiful sandy desert!
O grit mountains and hills fine!
Soft underfoot,
so fresh and so clean
—a more inviting terrain I’ve ne’er seen!
Now if you’ll excuse me, sirs and madams,
Can I trouble you to shut the door?
I wish to explore
this walled kingdom
in peace.
If a cat did not put a firm paw down now and then, how could his human remain possessed.
—Winifred Carriere
Ode to a Sunbeam
I love you, sunbeam,
but must you keep moving?
It makes my napping
very difficult:
windowsill,
carpet,
armchair,
bookshelf,
pillow.
It’s too much work.
What’s this?
A cloud? No, come back!
I’m sorry, sunbeam,
Lovely warm ray of gold.
I didn’t mean it.
I will follow you
Wherever you choose to go.
Ode to a Piece of String
O lithe and limber bit of string!
Forever descending,
ascending
Descending—
Ascending—
Up and away, impossible to catch
And wait!
I have you!
You’re mine
To nibble and fray,
To bite and claw,
And
I’m bored now.
New toy, please.
Ode to the Corner of the Book You’re
Trying to Read
O firm, hardbound corner!
So good on my gums,
I rub and rub,
incessant, insatiable, constant.
Swat me away and still I return!
The corners are like catnip.
No matter what the subject—
Romance, mystery, history,
the latest Ondaatje,
Atwood,
Franzen,
Grisham,
Dunham—
I will persist—
delightful, delicious corners
—until you close the book
in frustration
and turn your full attention to me.
“You are my cat and I am your human.”
—Hilaire Belloc
RHYMING VERSE, HAIKUS, AND LIMERICKSM
Everyone knows real poetry has to rhyme. Otherwise, what’s the point? The same goes for poems with no cats in them. Why did we even learn to read, if not to enjoy rhyming cat poetry? Enjoy some delicate haikus and some bawdy limericks, and feel free to jot down your own verse at any time. Get inspired!
Haiku of Shame
Returned from the vet
Plastic cone embarrassment
Please, please kill me now
Of Mice and Men
There once was a cat who loved books
He liked bookshelves that had lots of nooks
He thought especially nice
The tomes about mice
One page and the kitty was hooked
“When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a pastime to her more than she is to me?”
—Montaigne
Dr. Sturgeon
There once was a cat in a hat
(Sounds silly but that is a fact)
She ate one fish then two fish,
a red fish, a blue fish—
The cat in the hat is now fat.
“Two things are aesthetically perfect in the world—the clock and the cat.”
—Emile Auguste Chartier
Feed Me
I’d like to file a formal complaint:
(The Ritz this certainly ain’t)
My dish has been bare
Since nine past a hair!
Madam, soon I’ll lose all restraint.
“Dogs eat. Cats dine.”
—Ann Taylor
Who’s Your Daddy?
There once were two cats from Carlsbad
Whose mother, it’s said, was a slag.
Their father was nice,
(He loved milk, he loved mice)
But their mother’s not sure he’s the dad.
Cat Lady Haiku
A cat is a treat
Soft fur, a miracle of
Warm indifference
Free Ride
A cat pays no tax
A citizen of nowhere
Ruler of all things
Pirate’s Booty
Ahoy mate—what’s this?
A tuna can—well yo ho!
A fishy treasure
Mrs. Mittens
There once was a stay-at-home cat
Who was overworked—that was a fact.
She hired a mouse
To help round the house
(As her husband’s a bit of a rat).
“My husband said it was him or the cat. . . . I miss him sometimes.”
—Unknown
Cat Muse
There once was a cat from Milan
Who modeled without a stitch on.
The artists would capture
The fur-frontal rapture,
And the paintings were hung in salons.
“The smallest feline is a masterpiece.”
—Leonardo da Vinci
STRIKING SHELTER CAT DEMANDS INCLUDE
ACCESS TO FRESH TUNA WATER,
DOUBLE THE AMOUNT OF PLAY TIME PER DAY,
AND SUNNIER WINDOWSILLS FOR NAPPING
All the cats at the SPCA
Didn’t like how things ran day to day.
So the cats formed a union,
(Went on strike, paid their dues in)
And now the place runs a-okay.
“If animals could speak the dog would be a blundering outspoken fellow, but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much.”
—Mark Twain
Royalty
I
The queen of the night is a cat.
Her fur is the blackest of black.
With a crown made of tuna
And a dog-servant named Luna,
She protects her backyard from attack
II
The king of the night is a cat.
At heart he’s a true autocrat.
He dines only on mice
And everything nice
While his subjects are stuck with the rats
III
The princess of the night is a cat
But for royalty—she cares not a rat.
She instead loves to race.
In NASCAR she’s an ace!
Let the record reflect she’s all that.
IV
The prince of the night is a cat.
He likes to wear couture cravats.
They get lots of likes
From social media types,
Though I must add this caveat.*
*Cats don’t wear ties.
Bring Your Claritin
There once was a trickster named Mack
Who liked people allergic to cats.
Upon them he’d rub,
His white mug so smug,
Till he’d trigger an allergic attack.
Wino
There once was a puss from Bordeaux
Who developed a taste for Merlot.
The cat was ashamed,
She left town, changed her name,
And now she gets drunk on Mouse-cato.
“Every life should have nine cats.”
—Anonymous
There once was a cat named Miss Spence.
Her bonnets were really immense.
On the sidewalk she’d roam,
While the passersby groaned,
For a hat in the eye feels intense!
“The trouble with cats is that they’ve got no tact.”
—P. G. Wodehouse
Queen of Versailles
Look at me
A quiet, well-behaved lady writing fancy cat poetry
I’m so refined
Look at me here with my champagne
My mink throws
My editor on speed dial
Look at me with my classical education
Master’s degree
Bestselling novel
I’ve been to Rome, you know.
It’s best in the early spring, before the hordes.
And that gala last night was divine—
I don’t know why the paparazzi have to be so aggressive.
Look at me
Pajama pants
Forgot to do laundry again today
Overdue credit card bills
And why does the phone company keep calling?
I told them the check is in the mail
I told them I can’t pay online because my internet’s
been cut off
*nd now the * key is stuck on my computer.
Gre*t. Just Gre*t.
What was I saying?
Right. C*t poetry. So refined, isn’t it?
This re*lly is wh*t I envisioned.
St*rting out. *s * young girl.
This is exactly it.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my editor Ann Treistman, Sarah Bennett, and everyone at The Countryman Press. Thanks Lauren Goldberg.
Thanks, cats.
PHOTO CREDITS
Cat illustrations courtesy of the author.
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Copyright © 2016 by Jennifer McCartney
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