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The Rrroarrs

rrroarr

With a nod to Phillip K. Dick, author of the canine short-story Roog: Grandkitty Gypsy decided that felines need their own such story. Hence, as dictated telepathically by Gypsy, here’s one for the kitties.

They made her shudder, those big-rig delivery trucks passing along Pacific Avenue, a busy stretch that runs parallel to the street on which the new apartment is located. They  – a good three or four at a time – stopped at the grocery directly across from Py’s building. Given the trucks’ mighty roar and intimidating size, she was amazed to see the humans gathering round, diving into the back of the truck and moving boxes on pallet jacks.

Py tried – dare we say it – doggedly to alert her human to the potential threat. She looked pointedly at the scene unfolding outside the window and bobbing her head up and down she growled “rrroarr … rrroarr.” Unfortunately her human doesn’t speak Feline. When the human finally did take a look, she didn’t appear at all perturbed by the frightening perspective, though Py recognized it as abject terror. Soon though she began to feel her terror give way to interest. Food! She could smell food in the air, food that disappeared into the store’s receiving area.

Pensive, she studied the humans swarming about the trucks. One thought lead to another as thoughts are want to do. Suddenly she realized why feline foods are so poor: dry, boring, tasteless, “scientifically formulated nuggets” recommended by Dr. Annie. “For weight control,” she says. Humph! Ffffup! thought Py. The truth is we have to substitute good flesh food for dry prefabricated crunchables because the rrroars make sure the good stuff is hidden away in the humans’ grocery store. Her nose told her there was fresh fish to be had and – Bastet willing – some of that fish would be hers.

Pywacket (Py)

Slowly a strategy began to form in Py’s mind. Her dear but scattered human was forever forgetting something when she left for work. It was her habit to leave the front door open while she ran back into the apartment to find her misplaced keys or to grab her almost-forgotten lunch. For once, Py decided, I’ll take advantage of that. High stakes call for high risks.

Her chance came the very next day. When her human so predictably left the door open, Py escaped. She did her best to stay out of sight and for a while camped out behind a dryer in the laundry room.

Time passed slowly, Py slept, and then waking with a start, she listened to the stillness. She sensed all the humans in the building were gone for the day or settled down to watch their soaps on TV. Now’s my chance! She shot across the street like a Roger Clemens‘ pitch and scooted behind some bushes to assess the situation. It was there that she met a handsome red-coated fellow of her own kind.

At last the rrroarrs were empty and gone and the humans disappeared into the store. Py and her new-found friend, Fluffernutter, high-tailed it into the store’s receiving room.  They maneuvered past the stacked boxes of canned food and cleaning stuffs, their sensitive noses tracking the sweet scent of wild Alaska salmon in the fish monger’s section.

Fluffernutter (Nutter)

Once out of receiving and into the store they knew they were vulnerable. They decided Py would be the distraction while Fluffernutter went in for the kill. Py wrapped the luxury of her softly furred self around the leg of the fish monger. She purred seductively. Naturally he bent down to pick her up. Who could resist? The man immediately adored her and fed her a scrap of sea scallop in gratitude for her attention. As planned, the fish monger was so taken with Py that he never noticed the theft in progress.

Fluffernutter nabbed a hunk of salmon and made his way unobtrusively back to receiving and on to safety. When the monger gave Py another bit of sea scallop and regretfully set her free outside, she headed straight for the apartment house where Fluffernutter – whom she soon came to learn is more nutter than fluffer – was waiting for her. What a feast they had and it turned out to be just the first of many …

* * *

It’s been almost four weeks now. Py and “Nutter” – as she calls him affectionately – have their routine down. The silly fish monger is still deeply enamoured of Py and has no sense of her cunning. It’s hard to tell who is more devoted to the little feline goddess, man or Nutter.

Earlier today Py went with her human to visit Dr. Annie, who chastised the human for overfeeding Py and not keeping her safe inside. She’s now up from a petite eleven pounds to a voluptuous thirteen and pregnant to boot.

Pywacket & Gypsy

© 2012, story, Gypsy Rose and Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved * Gypsy blogs at The Cat’s Meow

© 2012, Pywacket (Py), from the family album, please be respectful – Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

© 2012, Pywacket and Gypsy, from the family album, please be respectful – Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

Photo credit ~ rrroars and Fluffernutter by Junior Libby, Public Domain Pictures.net

 

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SEPTEMBER 26, 2012: Announcing New Website for Poet Mary MacRae

 

The deeper I go into Mary MacRae’s poems the more spacious my own world becomes. Anne Cluysenaar

The English poet Mary MacRae died of cancer in 2009. Were it not for the love and commitment of her poet-friends at Second Light Network, we might not have the gift of her poetry to savor in our quiet moments. Poet, teacher and consultant to Second Light Network, Myra Schneider  wrote and asked me to let you know that they have established a website for Mary.

The wide range of poems in Inside the Brightness of Red includes poignant work written when she was terminally ill but also beautiful lyric poems about childhood, youth, relations with parents, marriage, friendship and her responses to art and nature. Dilys Wood

Mary’s love of life … of nature, birds, flowers, gardens, art and family and friends are evident in precise multicolored layers of her work. She was published in several prestigious literary magazines.

Her enormous warmth and zest for life were balanced with a sensitivity and deep compassion that invited many to confide in her, came into play in her perceptive and incisive criticism and pervaded her poems. Lucy Hamilton

Mary won two poetry prizes: Scintilla magazine’s Long Poem Competition and a joint first prize in the Second Light Poetry Competition. Her work is included in the second Poetry School Anthology, Entering the Tapestry (Enitharmon Press 2003) and in Four Caves of the Heart (Second Light Publications, 2004). Second Light published two collections of Mary’s poems: Inside the Color of Red and As Birds Do. 

To read a small selection of Mary MacRae’s poems – of special note is Jury – link HERE.  You can buy Mary’s two poetry collections through the website.

With permission I published the following poem before on this blog and I post it again as an example of Mary’s work. Please enjoy, but remember that it is copyrighted with all rights reserved. It belongs to Mary’s estate. This poem is from Inside the Color of Red. 

Note: I have also put a link to Mary’s site, Myra’s site, and to Second Light Network in my blogroll under Poets and Friends, which a new and developing section of my blogroll.

ELDER

by Mary MacCrae

·

A breathing space:

the house expands around me,

·

unfolds elastic lungs

drowsing me back

·

to other times and rooms

where I’ve sat alone

writing, as I do now,

when syncope –

·

one two three one two –

breaks in;

·

birdcall’s stained

the half-glazed door with colour,

·

enamelled the elder tree

whose ebony drops

·

hang in rich clusters

on shining scarlet stalks

·

while with one swift stab

the fresh-as-paint

·

starlings get to the heart

of the matter

of matter

·

in a gulp of flesh

and clotted juice that leaves me

·

gasping for words transparent

as glass, as air.

© poem and photograph, Estate of Mary MacRae, all rights reserved

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MYRA SCHNEIDER’S NEW POETRY COLLECTION, HOMAGE TO RAY BRADBURY

WHAT WOMEN WANT: I just finished reading a sampling of poems that British poet, Myra Schneider just sent me. They’re from her newly published collection, What Women Want, from Second Light Publications.

The collection focuses on the ability of words and women to effect change. Myra explains:

“The booklet is in two sections. The main section has poems that examine the lives of women. The central poem in this section is a ten page narrative about Caroline Norton (1808-1877). She was the grand-daughter of Sheridan, the famous British playwright. Carolina was a beautiful society lady in London and a writer who had a dramatic life. Her brutal husband took away her three young children and gave them to his hard-hearted sister to look after in Scotland far out of her reach. Caroline’s difficulties led her to fight for women’s rights. She was the first woman reformer in Britain in the nineteenth century. Her pamphlet, Separation of Mother and Child by the Laws of Custody of Infants Considered (1837) is a work of art. With years of persistence she achieved some changes in the English law. These paved the way for later reforms.
 
CAROLYN NORTON
“The poem, Carolyn Norton, ends by referring to the fact that many women in today’s world are denied basic human rights. It is followed by two poems which look at this situation. Other poems are about the frustrated life of my mother, also my mother-in-law, a stalwart refugee from Hitler. The last poem takes an upbeat look at women. The booklet begins with a section of general and lyrical poems which cover a range of subject matter.” Myra Schneider.
·
 Included in the collection is also this wonderful poem, posted here with permission…
·

WOMEN RUNNING

by

Myra Schneider

after Picasso: Deux femmes courant sur la plage

·

Look how their large bodies leaping

from dresses fill the beach, how their breasts

swing happiness, how the mediterraneans

of sea and sky fondle their flesh. Nothing

·

could rein them in. The blown wildnesses

of their dark animal hair, their hands joined

and raised, shout triumph. All their senses

are roused as they hurtle towards tomorrow.

·

That arm laid across the horizon,

the racing legs, an unstoppable quartet, pull

me from my skin and I become one of them,

believe I’m agile enough to run a mile,

·

believe I’m young again, believe age

has been stamped out. No wonder I worship

at the altar of energy, not the energy huge

with hate which revels in tearing apart,

·

in crushing to dust but the momentum

which carries blood to the brain, these women

across the plage, lovers as they couple

and tugs at the future till it breaks into bloom.

·

Order through Second Light Publications or directly from myraschneider@gmail.com

You can link to Myra’s website that includes information about her other poetry collections and her schedule of poetry classes and other events HERE.

© 2012, cover art and poem, Myra Schneider, All rights reserved
Illustration ~ Carolyn Sheridan, public domain

Δ

“You’re here to have fun …”
 
·
RAY BRADBURY (1920-2012)
American Author
fantasy, science fiction, horror, and mystery
twenty-seven novels
six-hundred short stories
eight million copies sold
thirty-six languages
HE WILL BE MISSED.
·
Video posted to YouTube by  
Photo credit ~ U.S. Government, Public Domain
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THE GROOVY GRANNY, A Collection of Poems for Young and Young at Heart

KAYLA MAE STEWART AT FIVE YEARS

The artist preparing the illustration for her mom’s poem On Bad Days

ON BAD DAYS Illustration

But, the talk of the town?

That’s certainly me

I can make a snow fort and

a good cup of tea!

From Gadget Snow Pants a poem by Heather Grace Stewart in The Groovy Granny

Dust bunnies and dress-up and adults who are sillier than their kids and have more energy too: that’s what you’ll find in Heather Grace Stewart’s new and colorful collection of poems for big kids and their little ones, The Groovy Granny, a mother-daughter collaboration.  Heather wrote the poems and Kayla did the illustrations.

The Groovy Granny is a collection of sixteen poems.  I particularly liked Adults Are Funny. I remember a time when my son was a toddler and he told our neighbor, Gussy, that he had to wear his sweater because “Mama’s cold.”

ADULTS ARE FUNNY

by

Healther Grace Stewart, all rights reserved

·

Adults are funny,

don’t you thinK?

When they’re thirsty

they get you a drink.

 ·

When they’re cold

they get you a sweater.

When meeting a stranger

they’ll talk about weather.

 ·

When they’re tired

they say:

“Get your sleep!”

Have you noticed the strange things

they eat?

 ·

What odd expressions!

Instead of: “We’ll see.”

It’s: “Well cross that bridge

when we come to it.”

(SO confusing to me!)

 ·

Adults and clothes?

They buy new stuff

with passion,

then, the very next year,

it all goes out of fashion.

 ·

I’m glad I’m a kid.

Adults are funny.

I just want to be one

so I can make money!

·

HEATHER GRACE STEWART, Canadian Poet

Heather blogs at Where the Butterflies Go

and A Children’s Poetry Place

All poetry, art work, and photographs are the exclusive copyrighted property of Heather Grace Stewart, posted here with permission.

Δ

Many poet-bloggers already know Heather from Morning’s (formerly Jingle) fun poet-blogger community activities, Thursday Poet’s Rally and The Gooseberry Garden Picnic (formerly Poetry Potluck). I haven’t had time recently to join the fun. I don’t think Heather has either, but if you are a poet-blogger and you have time, you might enjoy getting involved.