The mad chit chats
Of mad cats
Keeps the world up late
Yet if there was nothing special
to embelish with thought
They wouldn't stare at the fading moon
At unholy hours, but to them so soon
Believing it all to be a fluke
And everyone else throws a boot at those
Poor Cats
The interventionists of common ideals
They don't realize what appeals
But a bodily bruise heals
And so they stay up
Bringing tranquility to themselves
and sleep deprivation to all others
Author notes
I. Don't. Even. Know.
A contest entry
- Are you a sidewalk poet? by seven.
1221 points, ended October 15, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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you don't know? Are you saying you don't know what your own poem is about, or that you don't know why you wrote it that way?
I thought I understood the poem until I read that.
What I thought I understood, I liked, however. -
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sorry, it was late and I didn't know why I was procrastinating by writing a poem instead of doing my work
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