Poetry Pot Luck: My Cat, Phillippe

A mother plays the guitar while her two daught...
Image via Wikipedia Ever use an image just 'cause you like it and it has no earthly reason to be there? Me neither! This is just me putting my poem to music and having a jamming session with a couple of my homegirls

I saw Jingle at http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com ask me to submit a poem for Potluck, and I was like, oh yes, it is Monday isn’t it? So this weeks theme is animals n’ nature.  So I turned my mind to my cat, Phillippe, that 15 lb. monster always demanding wet cat food.  So in the vein of My Cat Jeoffry, here is another lunatic waxing poetic about her cat.


Phillippe, Phillippe, you  most sable of cats,

Bringer of all things happy, murderer of rats,

What are you thinking, oh noble lord of ghetto fief?

A castrato at 5 months,  it must not be  about  obtaining a wife.
Phillippe, Phillippe, your  eyes do glow,

God’s palate of orange, green, and yellow

.Do those orbs  vaguely conceal a soul?

Of conscious thought beyond the scope of human control?

Do you give me  comfort when I weep?

Or has your  mistress  torn the fetters of sanity away in a single cat-like leap?


Phillippe, Phillippe, a Christmas gift for me,

Better than electronics and in the  end much more costly.

You were sick and dying, we did not know,

Thank God for modern medicine, my beloved friend, and  800 dollars or so.

Phillippe, Phillippe, named after a professor,

you must be more than  a little bit clever,

With a cat’s heart from a broken mold

and a personality  too precious to be sold,

Phillippe the great and the bold.

But tell me, Phillippe, tell me please,

where were you those two months you took leave ?

When we moved to the new neighborhood and I feared you were lost for good?

Until one evening, there you stood

.Did you love me so much that you made sure you would find me again?

Now never roaming far from home,

Phillippe, Phillippe, my most constant friend,

I love you forever, understood?

Well, at least Phil's comfortable.

28 thoughts on “Poetry Pot Luck: My Cat, Phillippe

  1. I love cats,
    my favorite pets…
    wow, Glad to hear that you cat is named after a professor…

    he is clever in sight,
    Thanks for sharing this precious piece with potluck.
    Happy Tuesday.

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  2. Here are the things that went through my mind as I read this-

    – “…Phillippe, that 15 lb. monster always demanding wet cat food.” -That sounds exactly like my old cat, except his name was Pussin (as in Puss’in Boots, not Pussin “I named him after a porn star”).

    -Haha! She wrote “ghetto fief.”

    -Er, what’s a fief?

    -Lisa and I should go into the greeting card making business together.

    -“…Where were you those two months you took leave?” -Holy shit, Pussin did the same thing!

    -“I love you forever, understood?”- My favorite line ever.

    I loved this poem, Lisa. But what amazed me the most is when I looked at Philippe’s picture, and realized he’s the spitting image of my old cat. Right down to his “What the hell are you looking at?” facial expression.

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  3. I feel you on this here one Lisa.

    If I wrote a poem about my cat it would involve him trying to sit on my head every night at three or four in the morning. He loves waking me up and pissing me off; it’s like the best game he ever invented!

    Great poem, you’re like a poet or something!

    Like

    • Would it start with “Little orange bastard noblely perched upon my head,
      You are aware humans are not nocturnal and wish to sleep in bed….”

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    • Thank ya, Loon! Very true. This morning the aforementioned cat begged for wet food and off to the store it was. Dry food will not suffice after 10 am.

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    • Yes, and it sounds very interesting too. I saw you on Dennis’ blog and am glad I found you. Thanks for your visit! Oh I write about everything that comes to mind and since I was invited to do poetry, I throw a bit of that too.

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    • No, but that would be awesome! Every time I get a new float at the pool every damn kid in the place wants to hold it and they break them, never fails. So this year I didn’t buy one, I can float on my own buoyant self…So I think I’ll be OK. But for a little while the chlorine was too much for me (I believe their filter wasn’t right or something b/c I can usually go for a long time w/o chlorine bothering my eyes in outdoor pools) so I brought out my goggles and I let some lil bastard hold them and the little douchebag stole them. WAIL!

      Like

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