Black Cat

Poem By Ro'in Mao

There once was a grunt so doubtlessly fair,
Black cats came out of his mouth with much flair.
They spread far and wide
On Earth's every side,
And the inside of the grunt was whence they're.

More and more came, with no signs of stopping,
Crawling everywhere, mewing and calling.
Bother burgeoned high
With each feline's cry—
Whilst the people's blood began boiling.

They said to the grunt with livid vexation,
"These cats are a pest and a frustration!
"They clog up the streets
"And snarf all our eats
"Leaving none for our poor, starving children! "

Answered the grunt, "I won't do as you say,
"Nor shall I move my black mouth-cats away.
"They're your source of light,
"In your ware's respite.
"You should of me be damn happy and gay! "

At every chance that arose for the men,
They grabbed and shredded each cat into ten.
Their blood filled the roads,
The blocks and boroughs.
For the cats' death, murdered the world peace then.

They saw the need to deal with the grunt too.
They seized and threw him into a deep slough.
'Twas quite sad for him,
Since he couldn't swim.
Thus the black-cat puker to offing flew.

Comments about Black Cat

A good symbolic poem. Thanks


Rating Card

4,0 out of 5
2 total ratings

Other poems of MAO

Midnight Muse

With night-hued shadows dance the silver strips
Of lovely Mistress Moon's visage ashine.
The crickets sing the fairness of her lips,
Their strings lay praise in rows out line by line.

A Pawn's Muse

Thy bitterness, again to me it calls
With naughty fingers and so sweet a voice,
In-soaking all my heart's unsavoury galls
And gets to me enthralled—far gone is choice.

Berceuse

My darling babe,

Do not let the nightlings
Bug you again now,

Go On, O Ash

Go on, o ash—dye all thy grey,
And leave the naked wind to say
'Farewell', to sing low in the deep
A song of rest, or endless sleep.

Waiting

Waiting… waiting…
People passing…
Odours wafting...
Fading… fading…