#napowrimo2023 #day8 #humannamedcats

#napowrimo2023
#day8
#humannamedcats
#20littleprojects
#publicaccesspoetry

 

Human named cats

Words cut deeper than a knife.

Fair words butter no parsnips.

Dropped like a hot potato, I said it was not to be sniffed at,

he claimed the butter was rancid,

but our complaints fell on deaf ears.

We didn't see through you.

It left a sour taste in my mouth.

I felt indigo blue so it must be Wednesday.

Jessica, formerly of Folkestone claimed, the taste in my mouth

was caramel macchiato. (that was when we patronised coffee shops, for hours and days, not eating the lotus biscuits if we were dieting finding them crushed in the bottom of handbags months later, crumbs covering fairy hammocks).

Black cats are unlucky unless given people names, like Dave or Betsy, then they can eulogise that,

“We’re a Jock Tamson’s bairns”.

The adorable fungi of deceit

Love is an emergency room.

Jessica sighs then spray paints kittens.

Is Queenie here? She’s not brought the music stand.

It portended the distance between them,

when they overlooked

the presence of an interloping raven,

enchantingly brow beaten.

There was always Sugar Loaf Hill,

but it developed a saccharine tang. 

“Nu komt de aap uit de mouw”. 

The bottle egged them demanding, drink me.

The human named cats grinned and purred on with delight.

The prompt is called the “Twenty Little Poetry Projects,” and was originally developed by Jim Simmerman. And here are the twenty little projects themselves — the challenge is to use them all in one poem.