The cat/kitten,
Black as a crow
With one white mitten,
(I call him Paw),
Was prowling
By the Lighthouse,
As he likes
To do,
When two crows
Decided
On a bit of
Sport.
They flew toward him,
Then one veered
Left,
And the other
Right.
Paw twisted,
And dodged,
And fell
Ass over tea kettle.
And I,
For the first time
In my life,
Heard
The laughter of crows.
(I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}DE BA. UEL)
I am attired
In my navel uniform,
Which I am sometimes
Expected to wear,
In service
To my Monarch.
I represent the might
Of Majesty,
As sole subject,
Yet overlord,
Of the Lighthouse
On Partridge Island
I am to stand at
Attention,
And even salute,
As a Man of War,
All three masts
And 124 cannon,
Sails past from harbour
On its way to sea.
The Captain
Will stand
On the bow
To salute me.
I am going to give
Each owner,
Of every telescope
Trained on me,
A treat,
And
A tale to tell.
I am going to be holding
Paw,
My cat/kitten,
Black as night
With one white mitten,
In his cage,
To let him
Inspect this departing,
Fighting ship.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
Paw,
The all black cat/kitten,
With one white mitten,
Is having the time
Of his
Young
Life.
We are in the Lighthouse,
On this Guy Fawkes Night,
Searching down the gunpowder
The dastardly villain
Has planted.
This has been part,
Of my traditions
For years.
Straight from
My Father.
Remember Remember
And though I tell Paw,
The cat/kitten,
To run wild
And
Search everywhere,
In truth,
He doesn’t want to
Stray too far
From my side,
Which is fine.
For,
In truth,
The Lighthouse is
A strange
And peculiar
Place.
So he stays near
To the glow of my
Lantern,
As I go through
My ritual.
We are both pleased.
And,
Will both
Have a
Fine Fish Feast,
When Guy Fawkes is
(As he inevitably is)
Brought low.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report
DE BA. UEL
Paw,
The all black cat/kitten,
With one white mitten,
Has
A butterfly
On his back.
A blue butterfly,
A small blue butterfly.
Blown in from some storm,
Hitch-hiking on some ship,
Alighting on a cat/kitten’s back
For the warmth
From black black fur.
Or, perhaps to play.
For the small, blue butterfly,
Flutters across the warm
Black back
And
Bats at the agitated
Tail
And
Boxes
Those twitching ears.
And Paw,
The cat/kitten,
Frolics along,
Dashes about,
But never rolls,
Never jumps,
Never snaps his
Sharp sharp teeth.
Because
(Let’s face it)
This is a lot of fun.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}DE BA. UEL
Paw, the Cat/Kitten,
Black as Night itself,
With one white mitten,
Is not leaving my side
And
I am glad of it.
Paw knows far better,
And sees far further,
Than me,
The gathering of spirits,
The quarrelsome ghosts,
Pushing past the boundaries
Of the Other Side
In their desire to
Reunite
With life on This Side,
Quite frankly,
I am going to follow Paw,
On this penultimate night.
Before All Hallow’s Night,
All Souls Night,
Halloween,
And hope that he,
Kitten or not,
Is going to
Stay close
To Home.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / (A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
Paw, the cat/kitten,
Black as the dark night
With one white mitten,
Is look look looking
Over his shoulder,
To stare,
And stare.
There are hints of
The approaching ghosts,
Preparing their visit
To this world
From the Other,
On All Hallows Eve.
Paw, the cat/kitten,
Sees that they are
Moving ever closer,
And he doesn’t know
Whether to
Welcome them
Or not.
(I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
You can’t take a step,
Man nor beast,
Without a leaf
Hitting you in the face.
Such blow the
Autumn Winds,
In from the sea,
Scurrying across
Partridge Island,
And swirling ’round
The Lighthouse.
Paw the kitten
(Already spooky himself
All black
With one white mitten),
And already spooked
(It seems to me}
By an approaching
Halloween,
Jumps
And twists
And turns
In the air,
All paws off the ground
When leaves hit
Or nearly miss.
Paw the cat
Will sleep well
Tonight.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
The crows are agitated
As they pause,
And perch,
On Partridge Island.,
Before they continue
On their way
To
Wherever that might be.
They spook
Paw the kitten,
Black as a crow
With one white mitten,
Who has been looking
At the moon,
Over his shoulder,
These last few nights
Before he comes in.
As it gets more,
And more,
Full.
Lighting the
way
To the Ghost’s night,
When the Dead
Appear
From the
Other Side,
On
All Hallows’ Eve.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}DE BA. UEL
Some of the ships
Passing Partridge Island,
On their way
To safe harbour,
Have been flying
Storm Flags.
The bad weather is still
Out to sea.
But I can feel it already,
As do the birds and animals.
The crows are agitated,
More so than usual.
Paw, the kitten,
Is too young to
Be let out into sea storms.
I have devised a cage,
With upright wooden slats,
Which
(I am surprised)
He happily jumps in,
So he can take
The salty air.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
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