by Rondo, Poet and Balladeer Well, hello again. Hope you liked Sweetie's blog last week. It was sweet. Not bad for a little floof. Actually, I think it was pretty good. Well, finally we have had a week of warmer weather. Thus the inspiration to create more Spring poetry. I tell you, this spring has been more like winter here... and we are so in need of warmth and sunshine. So, in honour of Spring and everything that brings to mind... a little poem or two. Let's share them here with you and maybe we can encourage Spring to stay if we all think of Spring, gardening, and all that they entail. What do you say? Late April 2018 The snow is melting quicker now Revealing greens peeking low; Amongst the ice and mud they peek. It is the warmth of sun they seek. Blue amongst the grass I see Grape Hyacinths, an early bee Greet morning sun, dispelling gloom. Such glorious colour, delightful hum. Snowdrops so white as buds do ope’ Show promise of spring. It gives me hope For April’s upon us warm and bold. Relinquish, Winter! Release your hold! ‘Tis time to rest for another year You’ll descend on us soon enough I fear For now head off to places far Give us a chance to smell the flower. Spring at last The leaf it buds upon the tree It makes me hum; I feel such glee That snow is spent; now grasses grow Amid the flowers, a verdant show. Outdoors I’ll be in spirit, though For in big city we cats don’t go Beyond the sill and window pane It isn’t safe so we home remain. But there we listen with deep intent To birds asinging. We are content To watch them soar as they go past Delighting in their joy. Spring, at last! © Whiskers, Mouse, Sweetie, Etude & Rondo - Mischief and Mayhem Central Dear friends, We welcome comments but let's keep them light and full of fun.
6 Comments
By Rondo, Poet and Balladeer Well friends. I've been busy doing my poetry thing... and with the arrival of Spring my fertile brain has turned to critters that fascinate kitties. Of birds and bees have I much written And more there is to say But other creatures delight me too ‘Tis time they had their day. Now let me tell you, one of the critters we won't be writing poems of here is Moths. They have been discussed extensively in our very first blog, Moth Day so no need to rehash that at this time. Living so many floors above ground level you would assume that we don't get critters in here but let me tell you.... it isn't so. Of course, we expect the bees, bugs, butterflies and birds attracted to the garden pots but not the creepy critters like ants, centipedes and spiders. These are the ones Grammy takes issue with...especially the first two... and dispatches PDQ. But the ones to follow are our favourites. They are such entertaining beasties. One you'll notice came from eavesdropping on a conversation between MP of Many Claws, Momma in Alabama and Grammy, thus the listening in part. You'll see what I mean when you read Poem 3. So, here goes... There is a creature I do adore It grows in stages; There are four. Egg to larva that crawls and eats At pace no other creature beats Leaves and such to gain its strength For stage three – when at length Its skin reforms and dormant seems. But ‘cased inside are magic dreams That to outsiders make no sense For shell they see, ‘tis plain and dense. Yet within a subtle change is made As soup reforms the old will fade ‘Til nestled safe within the shell That soon will ope’, will soon dispel A delicate beauty. As it uncurls It’s newborn self, it will unfurl As heart its veins infuse Gossamer wings of many hues. And when the wings are held up high We'll see a wondrous Butterfly. Lady bug is one more of note To me she seems a tiny joke. On wings of red and body black How does she stay aloft? How then She lights upon the flower? Yet light she does on buzzing wing Not red as thought but hid below Ailerons unfold to fly her To nibble on delicious thing. Juicy aphid on whom you dine In haste has changed nymph to brine. Wee bug of lady-name I write We cats as hunter, bug as prey More fun to tease; more to play Not like to eat you, bitter thing Though if not careful, lose a wing. And finally as told by RAINA BlueMoon’s momma and put into verse by Rondo. Ode to a Wee Mouse O sorry wee mouse whose heart Cat ate I’d watched you yonder by the gate You scampered under distant hedge Up the drive and to the ledge Of our front door. Then foolish you Your doom was set; you entered through To Cat’s domain. Regret your step Too late ‘twas noted as she leapt. Into her lair was your mistake Noon repast was uncommonly late. Your tail she caught, then you, dispatched. Distraught? Not she. Your heart detached Swiftly slid down slippery slope. Savoury morsel, you had no hope. Cat left the rest as proud she was To furnish meal for the one she loves She set it tastefully upon the mat Before the chair where I was sat. So sad was I; there was no heart But Cat responded with hearty fart. © Whiskers, Mouse, Sweetie, Etude & Rondo - Mischief and Mayhem Central Comments are welcomed. Let's keep it light and fun. by Rondo, poet and balladeer Dear Friends, As you know we have friends from all over US, Canada, Europe and Asia. Quite a few have special places in our furry little hearts. We won't name specific pages here but know that if we interact with you then we consider you are our friends. To name a few of the closest - there is the island crew known as Many Claws in St Croix which consists of x number of cats indoors and out, a few dogs, a couple of crabs, a plethora of wild chickens and a Mommy Person to care for them all. Four of the many are cats: Frodo and three damsels - Octavia, Rosamund and Grizabelle. Well, I wrote a poem about them a few weeks ago as the girls adore me, and why not! I am an likeable fellow. Then in Decatur, AL there is RAINA BlueMoon and her Meowmy, SAGE P Longbottom, the Grammy's dog and the extended family. If you aren't already aware let me tell you, RAINA is the songbird, hummingbird and butterfly who has smitten my chubby brother Etude. He fell for her adventurous spirit hook, line and sinker. Yes, a cliché, but oh so true. He's so smitten he's like a fish out of water - hooked. Well, I wrote about them a few weeks ago too so if you missed it, check out our past blogs. Another group live in Muddy Waters.... that's somewhere in Pennsylvania. I won't say too much here since today's poem is about them and it says it all but we have interacted longest with them. AND Mousie's dearest Cheffy, aka Little Boy Cat is one of that clan and famous in his own right.... well, you'll have to read the poem. so here it is. Enjoy! Muddy Waters In Muddy Waters there is a home Where feral cats are prone to roam For food and shelter they come to stay And once arrived they do not stray For food is good and beds are warm And safe they are, from hurt and harm. Next door is quite another group Not just one but quite a troop Moms and kits and feisty boys Lots of work but oh, such joys As safe indoors they’re free to roam On cat trees. They know they’re home. Up and down the stairs or sills They bounce and pounce and play at will. Then there’s the house where live the three 3M and Third and the tyke so wee Roscoe George his name it is Who adopted was. They are his. The one not mentioned thus so far Is Little Boy Cat, now a star In heaven’s realm we see at night As down he shines his golden light. And who looks after these groups all three? Why Tammy A and Betty B Take care of them both night and day As they feed and sleep and run and play. Truly blessed are all within their realm With both dear ladies at the helm. © Whiskers, Mouse, Sweetie, Etude & Rondo - Mischief and Mayhem Central Comments are always welcomed. Let's keep it fun. by Rondo, Poet and Balladeer Dear friends, now that spring has arrived officially it is time to transition from winter to spring in our poetry, don't you think? The robins are returning from their southern retreats. The geese honk up a storm as they fly past. In fact, a couple have decided to nest on the top level of a neighbourhood parking lot. Just hope they are left in peace to have their babies though there will be no peace for the neighbours while they live there. Noisy critters they are honking at every car, person or critter that passes near their nest! Along with the returning birds, awakening amphibians and sprigs of new growth midst the mud and the lingering snow seek out the warmth of the sun. Oh how we love sun puddles too! We look forward to our mornings as the sun tops the nearby towers and bathes us in luxurious warmth. Where we live we are blessed with the sun's rays twice a day. No, there are not two suns at opposite sides of planet earth nor do we have windows on two walls. Afternoons as the sun starts to drop lower in the west we bathe in its reflected rays as it bounces off the glass towers just east of us. An added bonus for Grammy spring and summer is her early evening tea break on the balcony. And for her garden that extra zap of warmth will be welcomed for those tender shoots as they take hold and flourish too. Of course, we benefit with an extra infusion of solar power. It charges up our batteries for an evening and night of chaos, mischief, and mayhem. But enough of this... you want poetry. Isn't that what you were looking for? Yes, I thought so. Well, here it is.... As Winter Fades As winter fades and eases into spring It makes me dance and want to sing. For joyous am I as winter warms To see the end of nasty storms. It brings back birds to flit and fly Past glass and sill where I do spy Them soar on air that oft will swirl In gusty ‘ttempts to make them hurl To ground. Clever are these birds who soar. They know their stuff and ask for more. For it is a joy to be so free Above the shrubs, above the tree. They land on branches when sailing’s done To preen their feathers and fluff their down To set selves up for another day And keep the chill of night away. And as they do, they songs impart That cheer me up and warm my heart. As night comes down to hide their nest I set in to do what I do best. Find spot to nap and dream my dreams Of birds aswirl o’er rippling streams. And when dawn wakes to early morn On sill I’ll be to watch the swarm Leave nests and twigs to swirl and sway. As on they soar to greet new day They sing their songs to Him on high As past my pane on wing they fly. And to’ard the heavens these hymns are sung To praise the creator, God and Son. © Whiskers, Mouse, Sweetie, Etude & Rondo - Mischief and Mayhem Central Comments are welcomed. Let's keep it light and fun. Rondo, Poet and Balladeer Friends I'm back and excited. Spring is sooo close. Tomorrow, they say. Still doesn't feel like it though. Hmmm. Well, let's change topics then.. You know we love our Grammy to the moon and beyond but what fun is it if we cannot tease her? EXACTLY! None whatsoever! Now that Grammy has been feeling better I felt it was time to write a poem about her. But before I do, I should tell you that she is a softy. (Read our bios and past blogs and you'll see.) Soft in the head no doubt! Soft in the heart for animals, absolutely! And Soft in the body for cuddles, for sure! Yes, that's our Grammy. An old softy. But the poem is not about just that side of Grammy. She is a multi-faceted critter and has a tough side too. Truly, she has. So here goes... Grammy Grammy slave, the dear ol’ bat She knits and knits, Now what’s with that? We don’t see toys with ‘nip and yarn But mitts and gloves and hats, not our’n. She’s good to scoop, She’s good to feed Our every whim. Our every need Is met and more But then she ope’s that dreaded door And out she brings that fearsome beast Our toes and floof on which to feast. It rumbles here, it rumbles there And all the while it picks up hair It looks for us as on it roars But we are far above the floors. On beds and nests above the din We hunker down and wait until That mean old beast has had its fill. On other days she clears her slate To chase us down and check our weight. The girls don’t mind, they are so slight But Etude and I, it’s a major fight. The daily agenda, tell you I must Is nasty. We're fed barely a crust. She doles out bits, there’s never a slew Of kibble or plates of turducken stew. Five times a day she refuses to budge, As downing her coffee, bacon and fudge, With nary a thought for our diminishing bumps. Says that should do you, you weighty lumps. At night as she sleeps down deep in her cot Sweetie, the colt, upon her will plop From cat tree or bureau or from heaven knows where To chase away beasties imagined - not there. The other two girls will groom her with ease Styling her hair, her fingers and knees Rasping and grating her skin, once so smooth. For doing this, their psyches it doth soothe. We boys are such angels, we warm up her bed We stretch out our girths, a very wide spread To cozy it up for our Grammy so that The dear is all snuggly when she comes to her mat. Then, at ev’ning late as she crawls into bed She takes the blankets and covers her head; Says you boys are furry, don’t need this duvet With nary a thought as we shiver away. She hides from the girls ‘neath that cozy old sheet In hopes that those tongues her head doesn’t meet. For Sweetie she hasn’t a solution as yet But tolerate she will. She's her darling wee pet. We love her dearly. The soft, daffy thing, Gives kisses and such, and even will sing She cuddles and snuggles when her work is complete Now shush! Don't tell her! She truly is sweet. © Whiskers, Mouse, Sweetie, Etude & Rondo - Mischief and Mayhem Central Comments are always welcome and usually fun. We'll respond to you quickly before day is done. By Rondo, Poet and Balladeer Dear friends, I have returned. How many of you are sick of winter? I know my siblings and I are. Enough already! It isn't that we've had much in the way of snow here. No, but the cold! That is another matter. It's a wonder we haven't lost the tips of our toesies. Oh, Grammy! I know we haven't been outside but there were times when you opened that balcony door to shovel snow and let in that nasty frigid air. We could very well have been frozen popsi-cats if we hadn't burrowed into warm blankies. Stop interrupting! This is my blog. My apologies, friends. The old dear is a challenge at the best of times and now she's feeling a little better... well she's a major Twitch in the Whiskers. Shush, Grammy! So ... We kitties are more than ready to have windows opened to air this place out. During the old crone's bout with the flu we had days that were above zero and we opened windows to send those flu bugs on their way to places frigid where they might freeze to death. Unfortunately, it hasn't been enough. We never want them back here, EVER. BUT, it seems a few of those critters are malingerers and are slowing Grammy down and keeping our windows sealed. So HURRY UP SPRING! Friends, I shall now do my part to encourage spring with a few poems. Oh it cannot come too soon. No siree. Here goes. Enjoy! Birdie Birdie birdie in the tree, Won't you come and visit me? Bring your twigs to make a nest Then set upon those eggs and rest. And when those babies chirp for food You'll elevate my int'rest and my mood! Crocus Little crocus 'neath the snow so deep Wake up from your winter sleep The sun shines down and warms your bed So ope your eyes and raise your head. Time you push through, take a peek For winter's 'most o'er and it's you I seek. Buds I see the buds upon the tree, Nubs on branches, they are wee But as they swell They'll soon burst free And shower us with their heav'nly smell. Friends, I hope this helps. See you again soon...... © Whiskers, Mouse, Sweetie, Etude & Rondo - Mischief and Mayhem Central Please friends, comments are welcomed... but let's keep it light and fun. I'll try to respond in verse but cannot promise. By Rondo, Kitty Poet Good day, friends. I have returned and this time I will share my poetic thoughts on my sisters. As you know they are Mousie, Sweetie and Whiskers. -little terrors in their own rights but I still love them. Mousie Mousie is our dear wee tabby Smallest of all, she is not flabby. Timid is she our gentle wee girl But tease her much and your toes will curl. She may be shy, she may be meek, But don’t cross her path when it’s time to eat. She hides all day on her covered chair, Hardly moves at all from here to there. But when the sun returns to fall Upon the panes on yonder wall She scampers to her nest so high And soaks up rays both warm and dry Through windows shining in the sun She surveys all ‘til she is done From there she ‘sorbs the sunshine yellow And greets her friends with a joyful, ‘Hello!’ Sweetie Sweet Cecily’s her name but she goes by Sweetie Her bones are strong but not too meatie. Feisty she is, she’s like a colt Long legs she has and she loves to bolt From bed to floor to wall to rack She scares us when on Grammy’s back She pounces, then with a toss Of sail-sized ears she’s off To adventures only in her head And when she’s done she hits her bed. A snooze, for that is all it is Before she starts to skim and whizz Past others scattered ‘neath our roof She chases flick’ring lights and floof To parts unknown they scatter far Afraid of Sweetie, our feisty star. Whiskers Eldest of all is Whiskers dear To guests she shows her charm and cheer. Bestows on all who enter in Sweet purrs and trills for all to hear. On laps she sits with one broad grin She soaks up pets and listens in Dispenses fur from tail and rear On each dear guest, to Gram’s chagrin. She loves her comforts, big and soft ‘Neath duvet tent, her favourite loft She hunkers down for morning nap And don’t disturb or ears she’ll cuff. Once rest is over and ready to snack The dear old girl says, ‘Now that is that!’ Out of my way, you scurvy beast It’s time I wander o’er to feast. Chubby old girl, she is a blight When food is served she’s first in flight She loves to eat and parks her snout Down in that dish, That too’s a fright. To nibble, nosh and snuff about She stops at nothing, a paw to clout Should others ever dare alight ‘That dish is not for you, you lout.’ Hissssss! © Whiskers, Mouse, Sweetie, Etude & Rondo - Mischief and Mayhem Central Comments are welcomed. Let's keep them light and fun. By Rondo, Poet, Balladeer Hello Friends, This past few days has been such fun... playing with words, ditties and rhyming couplets and all that goes with them. Know that I am far from done.... I have more up my sleeves (or would if I had sleeves). There is more to come though so stay tuned. The reaction to my first poetry blog was amazing and as I'd promised to respond in verse I followed through. Such fun it was but then I got myself into trouble AGAIN. Seems to be my forte. Three young beauties from the Many Claws in St Croix crew admired my poetry. That was something I'd never expected or experienced before and it kind of went to my head as you'll see...and I fear that I'll be banned from the sandy shores of the Virgin Islands for many a while ... 'pologies Aunty M and gentle ladies.. so here it is... Octavia, Grizabella, Rosamund Octavia with your bib so bright You shine among us in the night Down yonder strand your whiskers tickle On sand I kiss you. Oh what a pickle! For there are others here to woo Like Rosamund sitting there so blue I must go cheer her this fine night But more there are. Oh what a plight. Sweet Grizabella I would adore Upon this sandy ‘lantic shore But in this deep now have I got To woo three maids in one fell shot. I must to Frodo send my plea To bring his ‘board and help me flee Back to the shores of house and home And for a while no more to roam. ********* You laugh at 'sisters' Frodo, my boy But don't they give you loads of joy When admiring you they give a lick Of fur dishevelled and not so slick? I'd seek some such attention mellow If only I weren't fickle fellow I shall adore them from afar For all of them I do admire. Octavia, to her I gave a kiss But Rosamund, oh what sweet bliss! Now Grizabella, she is a charmer A peck off whom I once did garner. But then I got me into trouble I burst balloons and each ones' bubble. So I just got a text from VI. Tears are falling in bucketsful and MP (MummyPerson, my Aunty M) and Frodo keep swapping buckets and racing back and forth to the pool to dump gallons of tears into it. I hope MP is looking forward to having a salt-water pool. I think in future I'd best behave... Well, at least until after dinner's been served. Comments are welcomed. Keep them light and fun though. by Rondo, chronicler, poet and mischief maker Dear friends, It has been a long time, a VERY LONG Time since we have had the scribe activate those long digits of hers and put our tales into a blog. Our apologies. We still have to complete the return episode of our delinquent Miss Whiskers' escapade to Austria but let's leave that for another day, shall we?. In the meantime I, Rondo, poet and chronicler of family mischief plan to take over this medium for my ramblings. We'll see how long that lasts with this fickle family of mine but for today and the near future... I'm the family spokescat and think I shall start with ME as the topic. Now you may not know but I am a poet. Yes, this has been downplayed somewhat in the past. BUT... You must know I am a sensitive guy. I love to sing and talk. If you were unaware then, somewhere in our past blogs it has been touched on should you desire to investigate. Briefly though, the five AM morning gathering of the neighbourhood birds and our family to wake Grammy was my idea and I have done and continue to carry it out frequently - most often in spring and summer when the windows are open. Well, I'll have you know these morning vespers go paw in paw with poetry... whether rhyming or free-style. Yes, they do. At least in my estimation they do. And so, without further ado I give you a poem about my favourite topic, ME. (Just kidding, bees and birds are my favourite topics.) but I'm up there near the top of the list. An Ode to Me - Rondo Of rhyming words and lilting cheer Singer, poet and balladeer Rondo am I - big and round. I spout my ditties and love the sound Of birds 'n bees of which I write About their work while still in flight. Of hum and buzz while on the wing, I love to dream and then to sing! ********** Oh dear friends, we love to hear your thoughts and comments so please don't hesitate. Please keep it light and lots of fun And we'll respond when you are done. |
AuthorFive Cats, Five Personalities, One Goal - Mischief & Mayhem. Archives
August 2023
|