a dead bird
offered by a cat
my love for you
a dead bird
offered by a cat
my love for you
cat plays with pencil
an Empire Number Two
loaded with haiku
ε εε
Evening prayer
Cat kneels on my lap, solemnly
Bows to the altar.
The plump tabby visited Bob and Sue in their small one room about three times a day, each time becoming a meal for him. Eventually Bob named him “Boswell” and Sue gave in to her husband’s literary pretensions. There were no children to consult on the grave matter of choosing a feline name.
Without landlord approval they installed a pet door. Their heating bill would go up but that was nothing to Boswell’s convenience.
Besides, what could compare with the warmth and affection of a cat snuggling up to them under the futon on a cold, winter night? In the distance would be the whistle of the hot noodle vendor and up close would be soft purring.
And what better entertainment than Boswell stalking a huge moth and devouring it in a gulp?
Perhaps the crowning point in their relationship with Boswell was Sue crafting a collar for him. This was a stunning array of garnet, rhinestones, and tiger eye with the cat’s name inscribed on a silver disk.
About this time was when they decided to move back to San Francisco and there was not a thought about their animal companion not accompanying them. Sue started researching the fees and immunizations.
Then one day Boswell sauntered through the pet door. There was a small sheet of paper tucked under his collar.
“My name is not Boswell,” the note said in English, printed by hand. “And I belong to the little girl upstairs in 1271. Most Sincerely Yours, Snowflake.”
Bob and Sue departed Japan without their friend.
Enjoying Life In New Ways
Poetry, Photography, haiku,
the literary asylum
Wherever I lay my pen, that's my home
my humanity in written form
Guitarist / Songwriter
Poetry, Fiction & Photography
New content every Sunday.
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
a collection of words about my average, bog-standard life accompanied by some sub-par illustrations that depict selected moments in said life
Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
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to be worth sharing
Domenic Garisto / LIFE IS NOT A REHERSAL,SO LIVE IT..if you can't be the poet, be the poem..havau22.com
One Poet's Writing Practice
My thousand lines..
A Poet's Place | Wolff Poetry Literary Magazine is Publishing Poetry Submitted by Published & Emerging Writers,