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Gunpowder, Treason, Plot, & A Cat In A Lighthouse

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

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}

Music From The Wind / Dancing From The Leaves / And One Crazy Kitten

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}

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

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

Paw, The Cat, Wants To Hunt On Partridge Island

Paw, the cat,
Yes
“The cat”,
‘Cause he is not
“My cat”
No one ever owns a cat,
They are wrong about that.


Is getting old enough
To hunt.
But he can’t decide
(Or so I interpret)
Whether to go for
Fish or Fowl.


‘Cause he eyes the seas,
And he eyes the trees,
Making little, plaintive, chatters.


But the partridge,
That look big enough
To carry him away,
Oh
They must be
Tempting.


I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

Thanksgiving Feast For Man And Beast

My black-as-night kitten
With one white mitten
Is called Paw.
He has become
A favourite of the ships
That pass my Lighthouse.
So
I was not totally surprised
When an outgoing schooner
Hove to, and a row boat came
To my dock, to bring me
My Thanksgiving dinner.
The Masters of the Port
Are very good this way,
To me,
For all holidays.
And in my basket of
Food (and – yes – wine),
Was a fancy small pot
For Paw.
Exactly the same as Mine.
Except
With the addition of
A gingham bag
Of catnip.

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

Kitten Answers The Questions Sent From Ship To Shore

Paw, the kitten,
Named such because
He’s an all black cat,
With one white mitton,
Sits on my shoulder,
As a raggle-taggle line,
Of storm-delayed ships,
Pass my Lighthouse.


I get flag signals,
And shutter signal lamps,
Asking about my new feline.


I tell Paw
To raise his white paw.
And he does.

Extra fish for him 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}

DE BA. UEL

Making Way For Lighthouse Provisions Of Food

Fall Fairs
Bring fair foods.
At good fares.


And the provision boat
Comes next weekend


So
I must
Finish off what I have
This week.


A feast of hardtack
And beans
And a roast of pork
Still embedded
In the ice.


And moldy cheese
With the mold
Scraped off.


And a big cauldron
Stew
From those bits and bites
And pieces
That are not
Precisely
Identifiable.

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

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