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The Puppy Joke between the Owl & the Pussy-cat

A gray cat that I know
out back by the fence
was conversing with an owl in the tree,

"Should the wind start to blow
and I'm not making sense,
I must be asleep, don't bother me!"

And just as he said
the branches did sway,
then the owl began speaking in rhymes;

the cat went towards the shed
an evening fog swallowed day,
in the distance, the clock tower chimes.

Then out the pet door
and falling flat on his face,
came the youngest one of this small clan;

a mere pup, nothing more
we had named the mutt, Ace ;
who was quite, dangerous whenever he ran!

night's moon woke up owl
who started to speak,
asking who turned the cat to a dog?

Puppy Ace gave a "howl"
shutting Aiden owl's beak,
and Micah the cat laughed in the fog!

Well, the gray tabby cat
became bored with her trick,
because the owl was so easily fooled;

came from out where she sat
her tail started to "flick";
purring proudly because the owl had been "schooled"!

Now, it isn't so rare
if a feline seems vain,
but, old owls posess patience, galore;

Ace the pup did not care
that the fog turned to rain,
but, tabby was drenched by the down pour!

I don't know if you've heard
only an owl or a giraff,
will naively believe that some cat;

with a quick magic word
will giggle and laugh;
with a dog appearing right where she, sat!

The cat played her joke
using fog's gray disguise,
so owl couldn't possibly see;

he had barely just woke,
was still blinking his eyes;
and was up far too high, in the tree.

Sprinting for safety
spinning pup 'round in place,
while her fur coat, got wetter than wet;

owl Aiden ginned, wisely
waived, and winked at young Ace;
for he knew this cat's goose, he did get.

The wet cat was a sight
the young pup took a nap,
while owl on his branch checked each feather;

just before taking flight
he said, "Cat, you're no sap,
but next time, check out the weather."

Then, owl flew away
he was wise and years, old
and Ace, the pup went in the house;

cat called it a day
she was wet, tired, and cold
still soaked from her untimely douse.

The moral's quite clear
if your radar is up
and you're not as crazy as a bat;

rain is nothing to fear
when you're an owl, or a pup;
but, the last laugh in the rain's, on the cat!

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
I dedicate this piece to my 3 grandkids: Micah, Aiden, & Ace; because after all, I did borrow their names!
Editing stage: 

Comments

Outstripped oh pussy my love what a lovely pussy you are! We're you reading it to your grandchildren?
Did you read them this?

...I DID send it to 'em. From what I understand, the older sister, Micah the cat; isn't too happy with me, for making her to play the "fool".
Such, is life;
doc.

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

author comment

A cleanly told story in what I always consider a difficult style. This (to talk like a teacher for a moment) has the best use of the story components of all of yours I have read. Everything is clear.
I don't usually critique the actual poetry around here (I have so many highly trained assistants... thank you all), so I'll just throw out my usual. There are rhythm problems that I think if you were concerned about them you could easily find. I give only one example of a line that was... I guess... a tongue twister of sorts.
Otherwise, I love the piece and will be saving it to my archives.

the cat went towards the shed
an evening fog swallowed day,

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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