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(inspired by Alfa She Wolf by iPuss). Tristan was rejected from the Opussian pack when he was just a cub. He wasn't the strongest, he wasn't the fastest, He wasn't the most dashing of the litter.
Low primal growl, I respond to that howl. Paws hit the floor, Ears twitching more. Pack found, I prowl. Hunting again, night owl. Prey taken, eaten raw. First by alpha, that's law.
Right one of you is slacking And I don't know who it is, So until you start laying again This place'll be hen Auswitz.
She stretches and pads over, Tail waving in the air, Rendering owner speechless, With her bright-eyed feline stare.
Golden with small black slits for pupils, they stare at me, penetrating my very soul. Predator's eyes. His thick mane ruffles in the breeze, tail swishing gently. I reach out cautiously.
If I were to die, And then wake, In another living body, What form would I take. If I had a choice, Perhaps an eagle, I'd travel the whole world, Up high, proud and regal.
A little mouse creeps along. It quietly sneaks into the cubbard. Inside's hidden cheese a mouse's favorite snack. All too good to resist. Up went the mouse to the top shelf in the cubbard.
I give my mate a croggy when he walks to Vernon Park, his black eyes are always open and he's game for any laugh.
Moonlight trickles through the trees, dappling the autumnal leaves. Silver speckles on the bark, tiny beacons in the dark. Under the glow of mystic light, a hair raising howl enters the night.
Sounds like an excuse but its not I wrote this when I was 8 and had an obsession with owls but I have managed to change some of the dialect so it makes sense..
I think there is a mouse. Living in my house. The little unwelcome guest. Has caused some unrest. The way my cats stare. At the door under the stairs. Their noses sniff around the door.
They wave at me, With flags of red, Bloody images- Run through my head. My brothers' deaths, A countless sea- Of empty bodies; Now it's me.
The sky is dark, The clouds are grey, Oh, I wish they'd take that cat away. The air is cold, Like the still moon, Is my dinner coming soon.
People don't like spiders, They run away afraid Or grab a hefty book And send them to their graves.
The golden presence is huge and mighty, making everything around him seem tiny. His mane, the darkness creeps up around the edges creating a rim that no one can trim.
The Cat-Bus slithers through, The stardust fields and hills. For the journey is now ending, And out the passengers spill. The grey, furry creatures, Long whiskers and white claws.
Little did I know, As I woke up today, I'd learn that a deceiver, Had truly had to pay. I feel like such a fool, For following this 'cat', When really underneath he had The disposition of a rat.
This poem was written by @ell and @lucandsurprise. So much choice. So many mates. So little time. I can't be late. They spread there glory. Before my eyes. There beautiful feathers. Are my prize.
Rare cat. Snow leopard. Coloured black. Eyes of green. And aqua blue. Waits to be unseen. White spots. Black sleek fur. Covered in dots. Hunt me a while. Prowler. Taste me with a smile.
I know this is old, but for some strange reason I've always loved it......weird right.
He sprawls, tan fur fanned On carpets, or tiles Or anywhere The narrowing twitches Of wakefulness Flee like fleas For a few moments He is still - More stationary Than dogs ought to be But the...
I GIVE UP. This counts as revision, right. There once was a little white horse, Snowy and plain white; of course. All night he would play, Chewing bundles of hay, No sign of regret or remorse.
Chick chick chick chick chicken Why won't you lay your eggs for me. It's not like we're cruel to you Or make you work for free.
Bright wide eyes, Amongst this darkness is surprise. "Are you still awake?" Then silence, no noise to make. A distant fox howls. But my eyes continues, they prowl. I can't get to sleep.