Why Own a Cat?

There’s a danger you know.
You can’t own just one, for the craving will grow.
There’s no doubt they’re addictive, wherein lies the danger
While living with lots, you’ll grow poorer and stranger
One cat is not trouble, and two are so funny,
The third one is easy, the fourth one’s a honey
The fifth is delightful, the sixth ones’s a breeze.
You find you can live with a houseful, with ease.
So how ’bout another? Would you really dare?
They’re really quite easy, but Oh Lord, the hair!
With cats on the sofa and cats on the bed,
And crates in the kitchen, its no bother, you said.
They’re really no trouble, their manners are great.
What’s just one more cat and one more little crate?
The sofa is hairy, the windows are crusty.
The floor is all footprints, the furniture’s dusty.
The housekeeping suffers, but what do you care?
Who minds a few noseprints and a little more hair?
So let’s keep a kitten, you can always find room.
And a little more time for the dust cloth and broom.
There’s hardly a limit to the cats you can add
the thought of a cutback, sure makes you feel sad.
Each one is special, so useful, so funny,
The food bill grows larger, you owe the vet money.
Your folks never visit, few friends come to stay,
Except other cat folks, who live the same way.
Your lawn has now died and your shrubs are dead, too.
Your weekends are busy, you’re off with your crew.
There’s cat food and vitamins, grooming and shots
And entries and travel and motels, which cost lots.
Is it worth it you wonder? Are you caught in a trap?
Then that favorite comes up and climbs in your lap.
His look says you’re special and you know that you will
Keep all of the kittens in spite of the bill.
Some just for showing and some just to breed
And some just for loving, they all fill a need.
Late evening is awful, you scream and you shout
At the cats on the sofa, who refuse to get up.
The cats and the cat shows, the travel, the thrills
The work and the worry, the pressure, the bills.
The Whole thing seems worth it, the cats are your life.
They’re charming and funny and offset the strife.
Your lifestyle has changed, things just won’t be the same.
Yes, those cats are addictive and so’s the cat game!

Author Unknown

Save Animals Save Ourselves

Gorilla Imagination

the ultimate used his creativity,
and planned for a huge diversity,
tiger, lion, parrot, carrot everyone else,
from every nationality,
we are sanctity,
if you have humanity,
you don’t hope yourselves as vanity.
we are one among in you,
but you made us few.
you will flourish,
if you save us.
you will perish,
if you pave us.
we roar to all his creativity,
to have a little humanity.
to save, not pave.
we buzz to help us,
rather you fuss.
we all fall in pathos,
save us and have kudos.
enshrine, not destroy,
all world can heal,
let us plant tree and leave them free.
almighty created all of us,
let them also take a chance to live
killing animals should not be a fun
so let all put our hands together to shun

by masarapu navyasree

Bandit of My Heart

Oh, Bandit, what’s your impish task
While sporting, sly, that little mask?

You seem quite innocent and frail
Yet the kitchen tells a different tale

Floor all messy, the counters, too
Paw prints that led straight to you

But while I had a penance planned
You’re far too sweet to reprimand

Looking slumberous in your slouch
Reclining leisurely upon the couch

Soon you’ll close those kitty eyes
And off you’ll scamper to fantasize

Such fuzzy mitts you’ll fuzzily flail
While prizing creatures, (and your tail)

I can’t help query what you’ll scheme
While making mischief in your dream

Though doubts, have I, it can’t outdo
The pranks you pull while being You

But antics granted, here you’ll stay
Because I’d have you no other way

So while you’re “Plunder-On-All-Fours”
You’ve plundered, too, this heart..

That’s yours

by Gregory R Barden

Into the forest I go, to lose myself and find my soul

Into the forest I go, to lose myself and find my soul

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.