I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

11 October 2014


Come now, beautiful boyfriend, here is morning.
Get up! Off you go, handsome. Breakfast’s waiting.

But no. Clings to me, this one, lately, bless him —
just since Freya, his sister, died and left us.

He grooms me assiduously, with finger licks
and sharp little nips, as if I’m one of his pack.

She used to speak for them both, but now
he’s found his own voice, and he’s exerting it.

He tries to tell me everything, in that low-toned
scratchy little chirrup of a miaow. I try to understand.

He seldom comes to bed with me; he never did.
But I find him beside my pillow every day when I wake.

Nights, he is off about his own business — mostly
lying on the cool top step, guardian of our home.

During the day he follows me about like a faithful dog,
and lies at my feet; or else on the spare bed, and calls me.

I go to him when he calls, and talk to him, and we smooch.
He is not imperious, as she was, but he may be learning.

31 Poems in 31 Days (from Poewar /Writer's Resource Center). Prompt: A poem of three or more verses, the first two metered, the rest unmetered. My first two verses are in hendecasyllabic metre, because I wanted something which wouldn't make too great a demarcation from the rest. (There are various explanations of hendecasyllabic; Ive linked you to the variant I used.)

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