Some cat owners around here
should snip a few testicles...
The nocturnal opera begins once
the shadows abandon their post,
spiral-eyed rulers staking a
claim on territories invisible
to those with too many debts.
Each night, a conference convenes
beneath whispering hydrangeas,
their petals curling into tight
ears privy to feline negotiations.
Gnashing, yowling shards of
moonlight echo across the lawns.
Thunderous love songs alarmed,
days of wine and roses boiled
down to plastic bag ballet, claws
unsheathed like switchblades slashing
through silence stained with cologne.
An old man cradles his spatula,
swears vengeance over morning’s
flood of toppled garbage cans,
he's joined by a congregation of
insomniacs bemoaning midnight's choir.
If only diplomacy had sharper
scissors, a cleaner cut to redefine
boundaries. The babies sleep in
bulletproof cradles. We hold our
breath, hoping for quieter romances.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: February 8th, 2025 12:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments3
A wonderful read, the imagery certainly pertains to the pesky cat, yet i feel it could to apply to others, really enjoyed this piece
Excellent write
Such disturbing sounds join others like barking dogs, crowing roosters and those that start their lawn equipment too early in the morning. A fun read
Why would you mow your lawn at 6am? It's why I sleep with earplugs 😂
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