Cats Poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond


Rating: 3.3

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

Roger Kibble 13 August 2006

A perfect poem. Such skill, such perception, such metaphor.

7 3 Reply
My man 27 January 2018

Good poems ggggggggggggggg

1 0 Reply
Kim Barney 14 April 2015

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.

1 2 Reply
Kenneth Maswabi 14 April 2015

A very intelligent piece of poetry.Thank you

1 1 Reply

It feels as a beautiful poem with nice words and rhythm.

1 1 Reply
Andrea Field 15 August 2007

It was an absolute joy to re-discover this poem after many years.

5 2 Reply
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