1Another_Bibliomane
Since poetry is slowly becoming a habit, I guess it’s time for me to start a thread.
Today’s ramblings:
If I were a cat
If I were a cat
I’d wake my human
At the same time every day
And remind her
Of her duty
To keep me fed
And play with me
And maybe give me snuggles.
Until I decide
I’ve had enough.
Then it’s time for second breakfast
And maybe more play,
If I feel like it.
Then it would be time
To wrestle with my sister
Until one of us calls
Time out
To groom.
Then it’s time to sleep
Curled up together
In the sun.
With occasional breaks
To groom.
Then it’s time
To yawn and stretch
And remind my human
Of her duty
To feed me.
I’d stand tall
Against her leg
And reach
As far as I can
Until
She gets
The message
Well fed
Well loved
I’d curl around her legs
Again and again
Until
She gets
The message
That I love her.
And she is mine.
My human.
As I am hers.
Her cat.
- IMA
Today’s ramblings:
If I were a cat
If I were a cat
I’d wake my human
At the same time every day
And remind her
Of her duty
To keep me fed
And play with me
And maybe give me snuggles.
Until I decide
I’ve had enough.
Then it’s time for second breakfast
And maybe more play,
If I feel like it.
Then it would be time
To wrestle with my sister
Until one of us calls
Time out
To groom.
Then it’s time to sleep
Curled up together
In the sun.
With occasional breaks
To groom.
Then it’s time
To yawn and stretch
And remind my human
Of her duty
To feed me.
I’d stand tall
Against her leg
And reach
As far as I can
Until
She gets
The message
Well fed
Well loved
I’d curl around her legs
Again and again
Until
She gets
The message
That I love her.
And she is mine.
My human.
As I am hers.
Her cat.
- IMA
2DebiCates
>1 Another_Bibliomane: Wonderful, Ian! You nailed the relationship perfectly. So glad you started you a thread. I'm going now to add your thread to The Poetry Collection directory.
3SandraArdnas
>1 Another_Bibliomane: Bubi approves of this human and his verses
4Another_Bibliomane
On Bodega Bay
A chorus of frogs
Was not what I expected
As I sit and look out over the bay, hoping to see a whale’s spout
Ten thousand frogs
Calling out “I’m here, here I am”
One to another
Even if to me it sounds like
creek-cree-creek
creek-cree-creek
They know what it means
And that’s what matters
IMA
4/22/26
A chorus of frogs
Was not what I expected
As I sit and look out over the bay, hoping to see a whale’s spout
Ten thousand frogs
Calling out “I’m here, here I am”
One to another
Even if to me it sounds like
creek-cree-creek
creek-cree-creek
They know what it means
And that’s what matters
IMA
4/22/26
5DebiCates
>4 Another_Bibliomane: I enjoyed this one very much (another animal poem I noticed ❤️). And hot off the presses too. I'm right this minute working on tomorrow's National Poetry Month subject. It might resonate with you, Ian, after thinking about frog language: Day 23, "Sound-Poetry."
6hamlet61
This is something!
Observer in that you hear it but it doesn't speak directly to you
Participant in that you are there to hear it!
I like the free form, as well!
(And, the only other time I have encountered Bodega Bay was in Hitchcock's The Birds!)
Thank you for sharing right after you wrote it!
--Matt
Observer in that you hear it but it doesn't speak directly to you
Participant in that you are there to hear it!
I like the free form, as well!
(And, the only other time I have encountered Bodega Bay was in Hitchcock's The Birds!)
Thank you for sharing right after you wrote it!
--Matt
7Another_Bibliomane
Devon
I dreamt of you
Last night
I was at your funeral
Everyone was there
Even you
In your box
It was finely made
And strong
But it could not contain
All that you were
I tried to write you a letter
But the pen wouldn’t write
And the Hallmark card
Said all the wrong things
In the end
All I wanted to say
Was “I thought we’d have more time,
Damnit.”
Then I awoke
And wrote this crappy poem.
- IMA
Devon was my roommate in college, and he died of liver cancer in the early 2020s, essentially drinking himself to death. We hadn’t seen each other for years and I wasn’t able to attend his funeral, but I had a dream about it earlier this year and wrote this as soon as I woke up.
I dreamt of you
Last night
I was at your funeral
Everyone was there
Even you
In your box
It was finely made
And strong
But it could not contain
All that you were
I tried to write you a letter
But the pen wouldn’t write
And the Hallmark card
Said all the wrong things
In the end
All I wanted to say
Was “I thought we’d have more time,
Damnit.”
Then I awoke
And wrote this crappy poem.
- IMA
Devon was my roommate in college, and he died of liver cancer in the early 2020s, essentially drinking himself to death. We hadn’t seen each other for years and I wasn’t able to attend his funeral, but I had a dream about it earlier this year and wrote this as soon as I woke up.
8Another_Bibliomane
Devon
I dreamt of you
Last night
I was at your funeral
Everyone was there
Even you
In your box
It was finely made
And strong
But it could not contain
All that you were
I tried to write you a letter
But the pen wouldn’t write
And the Hallmark card
Said all the wrong things
In the end
All I wanted to say
Was “I thought we’d have more time,
Damnit.”
Then I awoke
And wrote this crappy poem.
- IMA
Devon was my roommate in college, and he died of liver cancer in the early 2020s, essentially drinking himself to death. We hadn’t seen each other for years and I wasn’t able to attend his funeral, but I had a dream about it earlier this year and wrote this as soon as I woke up.
I dreamt of you
Last night
I was at your funeral
Everyone was there
Even you
In your box
It was finely made
And strong
But it could not contain
All that you were
I tried to write you a letter
But the pen wouldn’t write
And the Hallmark card
Said all the wrong things
In the end
All I wanted to say
Was “I thought we’d have more time,
Damnit.”
Then I awoke
And wrote this crappy poem.
- IMA
Devon was my roommate in college, and he died of liver cancer in the early 2020s, essentially drinking himself to death. We hadn’t seen each other for years and I wasn’t able to attend his funeral, but I had a dream about it earlier this year and wrote this as soon as I woke up.
9DebiCates
>7 Another_Bibliomane: That's a fine, "crappy" poem, Ian. Addressing "you" in the poem made me emotionally attached to your love for your friend. It's a double note to Devon, isn't it? The attempt at the card with no ink, then the poem that was not enough, just like not having enough time. In the end, there is no substitute for your friend and your feelings for him. The coffin couldn't hold all he was and your poem knew it didn't either.
If you had written the best poem in the world, it would not contain all that was Devon and in you.
Funny how we hold on to our grief even in a dream as something precious to us. Not because we want to be grieving, but because grieving is part of remembering and helps us hold onto those memories.
I wrote a poem at the first of the year, written upon waking too, about a dream I had of people that are no longer with me, as well. It's not a great poem either, but it's now my memory, my grief, my note. https://www.librarything.com/topic/374158#9094410
Thank you for sharing. I was moved and am sorry for your loss.
If you had written the best poem in the world, it would not contain all that was Devon and in you.
Funny how we hold on to our grief even in a dream as something precious to us. Not because we want to be grieving, but because grieving is part of remembering and helps us hold onto those memories.
I wrote a poem at the first of the year, written upon waking too, about a dream I had of people that are no longer with me, as well. It's not a great poem either, but it's now my memory, my grief, my note. https://www.librarything.com/topic/374158#9094410
Thank you for sharing. I was moved and am sorry for your loss.
10Another_Bibliomane
>9 DebiCates: you’re very kind. I see a lot of similarity between our two poems. I got a bit teary eyed reading them both together.
11Another_Bibliomane
A haiku for our current weather:
The foghorn’s low moan
Breaks the stillness of the night
Karl creeps over the hills
N.B. Karl is the nickname someone gave to the famous San Francisco fog, which sadly we see much less of in the era of climate change.
The foghorn’s low moan
Breaks the stillness of the night
Karl creeps over the hills
N.B. Karl is the nickname someone gave to the famous San Francisco fog, which sadly we see much less of in the era of climate change.
