Cats Poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Cats
Cats no less liquid than their shadows
Offer no angles to the wind.
They slip, diminished, neat through loopholes
Less than themselves; will not be pinned
To rules or routes for journeys; counter
Attack with non-resistance; twist
Enticing through the curving fingers
And leave an angered empty fist.
They wait obsequious as darkness
Quick to retire, quick to return;
Admit no aim or ethics; flatter
With reservations; will not learn
To answer to their names; are seldom
Truly owned till shot or skinned.
Cats no less liquid than their shadows
Offer no angles to the wind.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
Ha! I love the lines WILL NOT LEARN TO ANSWER TO THEIR NAMES and ARE SELDOM TRULY OWNED TILL SHOT OR SKINNED So true! As I said in my own cats poem, we don't own them; they own us.
It feels as a beautiful poem with nice words and rhythm.
It was an absolute joy to re-discover this poem after many years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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10/7/2024 2:56:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A perfect poem. Such skill, such perception, such metaphor.