Poetry From Scratch Read online

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—

  They’re all the same to me.

  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

  Catastrophe

  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

  All rights reserved

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  Book title courtesy of Richard W. Parker

  Book design by Nick Caruso Design

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  978-1-58157-428-9 (hc.)

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