A place for a snooze
By Rhiannonw
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The door* is open, I’ll creep through
to find a favourite chair
where, undisturbed, I can curl up
and dream without a care.
Quiet from childish rush and squeals,
and bouncing bump and bed-shake,
until I want to go outside
when ready to awake.
And if these people move me on
out of this chair, I’ll flee
to that dark niche, that cosy space
behind the big settee …
…Oh, that was good, I think I’ll go
to get some water now,
or maybe food, or get let out
– but the door is shut – Meow!
There’s no-one round to hear my cry,
I called but no-one came, [Meow-sobs].
My real owners may miss me soon –
come calling out my name! “Hobbes!!”
*Annexe door
[IP: Write about a place you like to be. Here ‘I’ am Hobbes the cat (‘she failed to photograph me when I was curled up, and more recently I’ve found better chairs in their end of the house to curl up in’) Anyway, this story is fictionalising my exploits! I am named after the stuffed tiger figure in the cartoon, ‘Calvin and Hobbes’]
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Comments
Oh to be a cat. They always
Oh to be a cat. They always have a multitude of favourite places in which to languish in sleepy comfort and regularly in places where they're not supposed to be.
We can't make plans for cats. Your poem captures this well.
Turlough
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He's bound to be back. I
He's bound to be back. I would bet my menagerie on it.
Turlough
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I loved your I.P. poem
I loved your I.P. poem Rhiannon, imagining Hobbes really at home with everything he needs for a happy cat's life.
Reminded me of the cats we once had.
Jenny.
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"...or maybe food, or get let
"...or maybe food, or get let out
– but the door is shut – Meow!"
Ah, so nicely done, Rhiannon. I wondered why a favourite place would be behind a settee and then the reveal - a cat! Lovely pic too. Enjoyed. Paul
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