Search

kafkaestblog

It is a whirlwind in here

Open Search
Tag

island

To Be A Cat And Bat At That

A Brigantine
Hove to,
As it came past
The Lighthouse,
On its way
Into harbour.
A rowboat came to
My small dock,
And,
Deposited a cask
Of Caribbean rum,
Compliments of my cousin,
The ship’s Boatswain.

And it appears

The fame,
Of my cat/kitten,
Black as the rum
With one white mitten,
Is spreading across the seas.
Though perhaps, not
All seven of them.
For there was also,
A ball of twine,
With some loose ends,
That has become
An instant,
And favourite,
Plaything.


(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

0

There’s A Storm Coming Up The Coast That Will Give Us A Dose

Tend to a Lighthouse,
On an island,
On the sea,
And you get the feel
And the smell
Of the weather,
Moving toward you.
So,

There’s a blow
Heading this way.
I’ve put up the rope,
Between my house
And the Lighthouse,
To grab onto
Some Jeezly fierce.
And I’ll be carrying
My cat/kitten,
Black as a storm cloud,
With one white mitten,
In his cage.
‘Cause he’s a

Fierce little bugger,
And will go out
Into it
To his
Peril.
He’s been sniffing
The storm,
And the excitement
Consumes him.

(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

0

Man of War Leaves Port for the Seven Seas

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

0

Paw The Cat Makes A Late Late Summer Friend On Partridge Island

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

0

Warnings From The Dead Who Do Not Wish Us Well On Halloween

On Partridge Island,


On Halloween,


This Lighthouse keeper


And his cat/kitten,


Black as the night


With one white mitten,


Named

(would you guess it}


Paw,


Will stay put,


Except to check the Light.


For the night is neither


Calm nor inviting.


To humans

And cat/kittens.


But the Dead,


The Souls,


The restless Spirits.


Oh,


You can feel their oppression,


From one end


Of the Island


To the other.


And the revolving Light,


From atop


Its solid Tower,


Gives them no peace.


They want to come back.


They want things as they were.


These are the poor


Spirits


Who left,


Unfulfilled.


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

0

Halloween Approaches Partridge Island and the Dead Are Already Knock Knock Knocking At The Door

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}

0

It Is The Full Moon / That Spooks The Crow / And Makes Me Wonder / What They Know

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

0

Sister Darling Comes To Call To Save My Soul And That’s Not All

On the fourth Sunday 

Of every second month

Sister Darling of the


The Rarefied Church of the World (reformed)


Arranges to hop on a boat


Of the out-going fishing fleet,


And visit Partridge Island.


She returns to port


The same night


On a returning fishing boat.


In between her coming


And going,


She does her


Very best


To bring me


To the Lord.


I like to think


She succeeds.


And,


After this hefty dose


Of Bible and prayer,


We commune in the way


(She assures me),


That God intended.


Then we have a meal


I prepare,


Of venison, or salmon, or fowl,


And potato soup


And pie,


And ale,


And she departs

On a returning boat


Singing hymns.

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

0

The Storm At Sea Will With Us Be

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}

0

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑