Heer is sum uv arr favourit poems.

We let mommy put wun in too.

If you would like to listen to "Heart of the Sunrise" by Yes while you read the poems, click here

Catalogue
The Cat and The Moon
Snake (dis is da wun mommy picked!)
Cat
Ozymandias (dis wun is an Ejipshun theem!)
Bravo
The Kitten and the Falling Leaves
The Tiger
For Jeoffry, His Cat (dis wun is furry sad!)
And the Mouse Police Never Sleeps
The Naming of Cats

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Cats sleep fat and walk thin
Cats, when they sleep, slump;
When they wake, pull in-
And where the plump's been
There's skin.
Cats walk thin.

Cats wait in a lump,
Jump in a streak.
Cats, when they jump, are sleek
As a grape slipping its skin-
They have technique.
Oh, cats don't creak.
They sneak.

Cats sleep fat.
They spread comfort beneath them
Like a good mat,
As if they picked the place
And then sat.
You walk around one
As if he were City Hall
After that.

If male,
A cat is apt to sing upon a major scale:
This concert is for everybody, this
Is wholesale.
For a baton, he wields a tail.

(he is also found,
When happy, to resound
With an enclosed and private sound.)

A cat condenses.
He pulls in his tail to go under bridges,
And himself to go under fences.
Cats fit
In any box or kit;
And if a large pumpkin grew under one,
He could arch over it.

When everyone else is just ready to go out,
The cat is just ready to come in,
He's not where he's been.
Cats sleep fat and walk thin.

By: Rosalie Moore

The Cat and The Moon

The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet,
What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.

By: W.B. Yeats

Dis poem is mommys pick!

Snake

A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there

In the deep, strage-scented shade of the great dark carob-tree
I came down the steps with my pitcher
And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before me.

He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Silently.

Someone was at my water-trough,
And I, like a second comer, waiting.

He lifted his head from drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth
On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking.
The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed,
For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous.

And voices in me said, If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off.

But must I confess how I liked him,
How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough
And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless,
Into the burning bowels of this earth?

Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him?
Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him?
Was it humility, to feel so honoured?
I felt so honoured.

And yet those voices:
If you were not afraid, you would kill him!

And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid,
But even so, honoured still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.

He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips,
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream,
Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round
And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face.

And as he put his head into that dreadful hole,
And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders, and entered farther,
A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into that horrid black hole,
Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing himself after,
Overcame me now his back was turned.

I looked round, I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter.

I think it did not hit him,
But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed in undignified haste
Writhed like lightning, and was gone
Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front,
At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination.

And immediately I regretted it.
I thought how paltry, how vulgar, what a mean act!
I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education.

And I thought of the albatross
And I wished he would come back, my snake.

For he seemed to me again like a king,
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again.

And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
Of life.
And I have something to expiate:
A pettiness.

By: D.H. Lawrence

Cat

The fat cat on the mat
     may seem to dream
of nice mice that suffice
     for him, or cream;
but he free, maybe,
     walks in thought
unbowed, proud, where loud
     roared and fought
his kin, lean and slim,
     or deep in den
in the East feasted on beasts
    and tender men.
The giant lion with iron
     claw in paw;
and huge ruthless tooth
     in gory jaw;
the pard dark-starred,
     fleet upon feet,
that oft soft from aloft
     leaps upon his meat
where woods loom in gloom-
     far now they be,
     fierce and free,
     and tamed is he;
but fat cat on the mat
     kept as a pet,
     he does not forget.

By: J.R.R. Tolkien

We gots to put dis wun in cuz it's an Ejipshun theem an Ejipshuns reely luved dere cats!

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestel these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands strech far away.

By: Percy Bysshe Shelley

Bravo

O, what a fortuitous choice,
Bravo as the name for my cat!
For now when I call him in
I face the woods and cry, Bravo!
or the creek near the house and cry, Bravo!
or the meadow of wildflowers and cry, Bravo!
Wherever I turn, I cry, Bravo!
Whatever I see, I cry, Bravo!
And the place that encircles me,
that I bravo and bravo and bravo,
like an actor bowing and taking
the thunderous love from the darkness
who steps forward to give the love back,
all applause for those who applaud him-
that place gives bravo for bravos,
as if pleased to acknowledge how great is the show
from horizon around to horizon,
sky, stream, and ground, for out
of the shadows and springing, all paws,
comes-Bravo!-Bravo the cat.