Wednesday 27 April 2022

Cat Alarm

To eke a poem out of nowhere this morning I sat down to do those morning pages Julia Cameron recommended all those years ago. I had hardly put pen to paper when Sherlock, who was curled up napping when I started, began scratching at the door looking out so ... 

I'll do those pages tomorrow

Cat Alarm

He wants out, he wants in.

My head is getting in a spin.

I'd really like to keep the heat in

But he wants out and then he wants in.

His fine hair strays out of arm's reaches

To chimney grate corners and under-stair places,

And his gifts leave a map of his morning sorties

Through burrows and hollows and neighbourhood trees,

And he flops on the newspaper just when I'm reading

This really does get to me, leaves me fuming,

And he'll swat off the table the pen that I use

Just to watch where it goes, his favourite ruse-

But I'd rather lose head or heat or arm,

Have broadsheet shredded and pen disarmed,

Be discommoded and oft alarmed

Than be without his fatal charm.

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