(To my Cat)
Satin smooth, a dashing tuxedo doodles
in the dark. Coiling, recoiling, she sparks
twin moons centre stage, chartreuse chanteuse,
all that jazz with twinkles. Scrumptious svelte.
The rasp of velvet, the descent and scorch
of needle claw. Bipolar and molar, the healer
of bones. Her silent hum, vibrations that thrill.
Stubborn as a willow in a storm, she bends
and does not break. Not shades of grey
but endless grace. Elastic, fantastic, shape
-shifting dreamer, she weaves a fandango,
spellbinding tangle of chains.
The Purple Hermit 
A vivid, exuberant piece, Nikita, the artwork too, fascinating, love the way you’ve brought it together. I’m afraid I scored zero pondering the imponderable though. 😉
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Thanks Steve, so glad you enjoyed it. I got this poem published in a Scottish poetry mag. I suppose there are many cat lovers out there but hopefully the poem works for others too. I wanted to celebrate the personality of not only my own special cat but all Tuxedo cats. They are more likely than other cats to become homeless and often dismissed as too ordinary by potential adopters. The art work was a lucky accident! Yes and I agree the imponderables are too imponderable….! 😼
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Congratulations on the publication, Nikita. You do good work and it deserves to be recognised in publication. Most things I do are about luck: usually bad but occasionally good. 😸
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Thanks for the compliments and for supporting my blog!
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