Guess I'll never really know.
Before I Could Begin, As It Were
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXIV)
How did I hear the phone ring? all fr'intents
Asleep, although I'm quiet, who'd now trail
Me in a trice? Put on the kettle, hail
Fresh soapy water, and serve them from hence
As they meow and clamber up to thence
Urge on as wont my efforts, no detail
With them unturned? Sip Barry's to avail
Where Peter'd scorn the brie til Tigger, whence?
He'll like upon the rocking chair, demure,
And in the twilight I think's Tigger, to
Nudge whom, and who won't budge?! Push in tour
The cat off, fin'lly, to learn's...Peter?! Who
Must join me when I showr?! Our games in tour
Too precious, LORD, Thy mercies are e'er new.
22Aug25c
Never you mind.
I Guess I am Awake
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXI)
Where morning breaks upon this silent tale
Of cars firs hedge to reconcile the sense
Of blacktop and forsaken realms, I've thence
Is't too much erm, caffeine? Or which detail?
The yogurt and banana I'd avail
Me of lie back at home, unpacked, as whence
Points out my eggs from yesterday, grapes hence
Half begging for a notice likeas bail.
Thy mercies new each morning all as twere,
I've Barry's, brie, naught else since leaving to
Pull off these hours. I'm just too fragile, poor
As sevn thin hours of sleep is't? All we knew
Last night in partying lingers faintly. Stir
Our mouths to singThy praise, LORD, all of You.
22Aug25a
M'hm.
Now I Wonder 'Bout My Cats
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXII)
Now I've been up four hours, I can fr'intents
Indulge in coffee; by five hour's detail
Feel hungry. How the cam'ra to avail
Quite sweetly'd romance aught, like mists must fence
The fringes of its scope til all from hence
Tugs at my soul where lunch is others' scale
Of bus'ness, music quelled since impulse'd hail
Dear Autumn's thought of polish for pretense.
Oh yes. I never paint except as twere
With mincing words, my face, e'en nails left to
Be what they are...til Fall begins its tour
Of duty. Then, oh then how crimson'd woo
And beg to drip from e'en my nails. Is't poor?
LORD, give me a clean heart and hands, of You.
22Aug25b
How I do!
I Miss My Babies
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMDCLXV)
They are such sweethearts, tagging me t'avail
Once home, their catnip mouse left where fr'intents
We'll hang out...in the bathroom, kitchen, thence
All oer is't? Oh! they're glad I'm back, and trail
Me, sad as twere when I've no time, the tale
Of tissues crushed of nary int'rest hence
Whilst I am groc'ry shopping, but ask whence,
And Tigger plays now in the bags like's bail.
So, I found Tombstone in reduced, three fer
This weekend, naught else, our dinner to
Effect ya, pizza! Lie down ere work, poor
As less than two hours, while he works with who?
He told me Peter did not hiss in tour.
That's good...LORD, for Thy mercies I thank You.
22Aug25d
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Author:
Chic George (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 29th, 2025 09:06
- Comment from author about the poem: Ahem. Enjoy.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship
Offline)
Comments4
I figured out a way to answer all your poems: the first one, the second one, and the third one; enjoy your read.
The poem reflects the interplay of domestic life, companionship, and the presence of pets, specifically cats, intertwined with moments of contemplation and spirituality.
The poem revolves around the contrast between the chaos of modern life and the solace found in morning routines and spiritual reflection.
The poem captures the poet's affectionate relationship with their pets, particularly cats, highlighting the joy and companionship they bring to everyday life. It contrasts mundane human activities, like grocery shopping, with the playful antics of the cats and emphasizes the comfort of returning home to them.
Thank you very much!!!
I hate being awakened by the phone it annoys me. I used to have a cat and hated to be awakened by the cat. I guess I just hate to be awakened. Good write Chic
Lets us feel the drifts between drowsy awakenings, small domestic rituals, and the affectionate chaos of life with beloved cats. Morning begins in a half-dream, the speaker moving from phone calls to tea, washing up, and playful feline interruptions, all underpinned by gratitude for divine mercies. Fatigue and the remnants of the previous night’s revelry mingle with simple breakfasts and quiet observation, while thoughts wander to seasonal changes and the small vanities they inspire. The final piece returns home to the warmth of pets greeting their person, their antics and companionship a comfort before the press of work, closing again on a note of thankfulness. It’s a tender, meandering meditation on ordinary moments, love for animals, and the sustaining grace found in the everyday.
'Partying Lingers' . That's me at the door now , Bottle in hand.
Enjoyed.
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