Day Four: Animal/Concrete Poetry/Enjambment
Here we go!
the meat of this poem.
Substance and thought,
stepping on the stairs of prose.
Trying not to trip and falter on
a verse or from a cat underfoot. Gibbs!
The turn of your haunches wrangle me.
Has your plan to defeat your human taken shape?
A fall down the concrete steps by the human mom
would certainly aid and abet your furry attempt to take over
the world…but you have not pondered the one consequence.
Who would feed you, Dear Gibbs, when human mom lays motionless
at the bottom of the stairs and the feline dinner bowl bears no kibble?
Go, dear gray one, and take a nap or lay in the window or scratch on the door jamb
as you usually do at 4:00 a.m., when the Queen begs for your food as if a poor goat
Calm yourself Iago, patience Padawan, you shall not send your human sprawling this very day
Instead, you shall sleep and eat and play…for you are cat and we are at the bottom of the steps.
(Thank you, dear readers, for allowing me to indulge in poetic posts this week. I have enjoyed forging into new territory and learning a thing or two about poetry. I hope you have enjoyed as well. Stay tuned! Regular programming will eventually resume and the weekend bodes well for a break from the black beret.)