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 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.
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 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. |
AuthorFive Cats, Five Personalities, One Goal - Mischief & Mayhem. Archives
August 2023
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