“Thar be black cats in here!” Gun Roswell
Camouflage
Now you see me
Now you don’t
I am completely
Disappearing from sight
I am the shadow
I am the whisper
Well, maybe just my whisker
Can you see me
Now?
Disappearing into the crowd?
“The cat might be black, and none too friendly at that, then again, neither are most people“ Gun Roswell
The Black Cat a lurking
There black cat, strolled from behind the shack, seemingly ready to attack, but perhaps not, as it might just have been alerted there on the spot, of something moving about, as this was the black cat’s territory after all, and the lurking was kind of its domain, so, whomever dared to do just the same, well there was going to be trouble, as the black cat really did not like to share, not their feats, nor their place, as it would disturb the balance of things.
And so, the black cat strutted, around the neighbourhood, just like it should, watching, lurking about, making sure, nothing hinky would happen during its watch, as this was the black cat’s spot and when it was on the prowl, no others, Holman or animals alike were allowed, to step inside the territory of the black cat’s ownership, not without a fight or something similar, and that was pretty much it.
“The black cat did not cross the road, just because it did not want to be a cliche” Gun Roswell
The blackest cat
Intimidating they tried to be, for you see, that was the reputation to upkeep
Sullen and hardcore, a fighter sworn to be to the bitter end you see
As this was the often painted totally cliched image of the black cats heritage
But what if they did not want to live up to said sad and bad reputation at all
What if the only thing in the whole wide world for them was to play with a red ball
Then after the whole day spent, in fun never to relent, they would get
A bowl of milk and some tuna, then meow at the dark night in the light of the Luna
And after a while of having spent some time doing the things they loved
Curling up in a black ball of fur, and all cliches out the open window hurl
Sleeping soundly with a loud purr, next to their best Hooman boy or girl
As this black cat never wanted to be someone bad or the unspoken omen
Only a loved and treasured member of their adoptive family not the offender
And certainly never crossing a road, just because the tale so long ago told
“Cat hair all over the place!” Gun Roswell
Black, is the cat
A black cat sat
In the middle of the street in ease
She did not move an inch
Not even in a tight pinch
Passers by needed to slide
This cat sitting so wide
Proud face and nose up
Nothing would her mood stop
Gazing at the skies as far as the crow would fly
The black cat’s attitude was snide
Sassy and bossy, with fur so glossy
She was the owner, the queen of this street
Posted in Caturday
“A black cat crossing your path:
Usually signifies,
that the animal is going somewhere”
Groucho Marx
Black Cat for Caturday
You can look,
But do not touch
And not even of that
Do too much
Because
You should not disturb
The sleeping cat
Or a big hurt
Is a matter of fact!
Posted in Caturday
“A black cat crossing your path:
Usually signifies,
that the animal is going somewhere”
Groucho Marx
Black Cat for Caturday
Sleepy eyes
Still a spy
In this house
Maybe a mouse?
‘Oh that louse
Will not escape
My scrape!
No, not this time
No, that would be
A big crime!’
Posted in Caturday
“A black cat crossing your path:
Usually signifies,
that the animal is going somewhere”
Groucho Marx
Black Cat for Caturday
Alert, awake
Nothing would shake
The determination
Not leaving this station
For any reason
Except,
For the hunting season
After all,
Next night fall
Would be
Her targets downfall
Posted in Caturday
“Cats are connoisseurs of comfort.”
― James Herriot
Tails of the Black Cat
The furry black cat
On the sidewalk sat
Looking for that rat
Who had entered the flat
The flat where the cat
Slept on the mat
Now ready for combat
With the daring rat
Who had woken the cat
From his well earned nap
“Soon I will you catch,
You feisty little rat!
I bet you taste like a bat
And possibly are non-fat
After all that
I will finally have my nap
On my comfy little mat!”
Posted in Caturday
“Cats are connoisseurs of comfort.”
― James Herriot
Tails of the Black Cat
A black cat
On the fence sat
No, not with a hat
Nor even, a rat
And none too fat
“Bring me some fish, stat”
To me she spat
“Oh won’t you look at that,
A feisty little thing of a cat!”
I said
Knowing full well,
I sooner should her have fed
She kept at me staring
With her nostrils flaring
I felt quite daring
Acting non-caring
Cautiously, approaching
With a bowl full of fish things
I could almost hear her sing
When seeing what I’d bring
Now the cat
Who was black
Who on the fence sat
Now nicely did act
And was ready,
For a quick chat
Rantings Of A Third Kind 