Poetry and Photography (Series II: Cats)

Series II: Cats

This week a little ode to the four legged furry creatures that purr, whom we share are lives with. Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, Ernest Hemingway all enthusiastic cat lovers along with many other writers and artist. Cats and writers are drawn to each other it only seemed fitting that I share some poetry in which feature cats. 

Charles Dickens once said, “What greater gift than the love of a cat?”

The Kitten and Falling Leaves

William Wordsworth, 1770 - 1850

See the kitten on the wall, sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves—one—two—and three, from the lofty elder-tree! 

Through the calm and frosty air, of this morning bright and fair . . .

 —But the kitten, how she starts; Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!

First at one, and then its fellow, just as light and just as yellow; 

There are many now—now one—now they stop and there are none; 

What intenseness of desire, in her upward eye of fire! 

With a tiger-leap half way, now she meets the coming prey, 

Lets it go as fast, and then, has it in her power again: 

Now she works with three or four, like an Indian Conjuror;

Quick as he in feats of art, far beyond in joy of heart.

 "She sights a Bird - she chuckles -"

 Emily Dickinson, 1830 -1886

She sights a Bird - she chuckles - 

She flattens - then she crawls -

She runs without the look of feet-

Her eyes increase to Balls -

Her Jaws stir - twitching - hungry - 

Her Teeth can hardly stand - 

She leaps, but Robin leaped the first- 

Ah, Pussy, of the Sand,

The Hopes so juicy ripening - 

You almost bathed your Tongue - 

When Bliss disclosed a hundred Toes - 

And fled with every one -

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

Edward Lear, 1812 - 1888

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea 

In a beautiful pea-green boat, 

They took some honey, and plenty of money 

Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above, 

 And sang to a small guitar, "O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love, 

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

 You are! 

What a beautiful Pussy you are!" 

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl! 

 How charmingly sweet you sing! 

O let us be married! too long we have tarried: 

 But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day, 

 To the land where the Bong-tree grows 

And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood

 With a ring at the end of his nose, 

His nose,

His nose, 

With a ring at the end of his nose. 

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling 

 Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."

So they took it away, and were married next day 

 By the Turkey who lives on the hill. 

They dined on mince, and slices of quince, 

 Which they ate with a runcible spoon; 

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, 

 They danced by the light of the moon, 

     The moon, 

     The moon, 

They danced by the light of the moon.