Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “cat”

Days Like These

On days like these
I’d like to be
at home with a quilt upon my knees
with a cup of tea,
just you and me,
and a cat that wouldn’t make you sneeze.

On days like these
I need a squeeze
and, because it’s just that season
a Christmas tree
and something sweet
to nibble on while we both read. 

On days like these
We need not leave
our home to go outside and freeze
I do believe
We should take our ease             
indoors in indolence on days like these.



The Cat Soleeta Lee

Last night I dreamed I met a cat
named Soleeta Lee,
and something in her manner seemed
familiar to me.

To look into her eyes which were hazel
like my own
was to look into a mirror and find
someone else at home.

Now it seems less like a dream and
more a memory
of another life when I may have been
the cat, Soleeta Lee.



A Pretty Darn Good Life

Find some land and some wood, build a house.
Use your heart and your brain, find a spouse.
Work when it’s light,
Sleep when it’s night,
When the weather is bad don’t go out.

Find a spade and some seeds, plant a garden.
Add a cow and some hens to the yard and
grow them some food,
they’ll do the same for you.
Get a sensible dog who will guard them.

Find the deadfalls and snags, cut wood
that will fit in your stove and burn good.
dowse a well for your water.
Raise sons and daughters.
build a cellar to hold all your food

There are other things that would be nice,
like a black and white cat to catch mice,
songs you can hum,
guitars to strum,
and books you would read more than twice.

That’s a pretty darn good life.



Me and Chuck

I had a plan of where to be and what to do and say
But chaos overtook my plan and random far away
and, tangled in string theory, that dimension now is loath
to interpret my existance as alive or dead or both.

If Schrodinger had named his cat he never would have thought
to use him in experiments and put him in a box.
I think I’ll spring Schrodinger’s cat, name him Chuck, and so,
like anomalous phenomena, we’ll just pick up and go.




He’s an old cat
Black and white and claws
Grumpy meow
Prone to smack first and lick later
But he’s a friend of mine.
He has a name.
He has a soul.
And I’ll miss him when he’s gone
I think he knows this
Sometimes I see it in his eyes.
Yes, he’s a friend of mine.


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