This could be amazing;
ride upon unicorns
over sparkling rainbows
while bards play magical melodies
and wild nymphs dance on trees
Others may spring into light
out of sheer joy.
This could bring delightful dancing doggies
or curiously cute cats,
wonders upon wonders could be brought.
On the other hand
if you flip the tape,
reverse my hopes,
show my fears.
This could be terrible,
rotted death could ooze out its orifices
like black tar filled humiliation
and the sulfur smell of dying dreams
those that were crushed by failure,
which would cause a dank cave
to become a bare home for my soul
with only swollen sadness
to guide my lonely days.
There is a burning flame
a flickering fire inside
that holds to the unicorn
almost seeing the sparkling rainbow
even if dying dreams are crushed by failure
new one will arise
out of the dream pulp
or ashes of failure.
The phoenix that is my heart
will go on
Do not let the picture above fool you. Otis is not an ordinary cat. He is a fierce feline focused on protecting the one who feeds him. He bravely takes on this role every night. What is this hero of a cat protecting me from? Well, I am actually not entirely sure, but it may be from falling off my bed, or it could be the window. Whatever the danger he protects me from it every single night.
Let me explain how he protects me. His heroism primarily entails walking the perimeter of my bed, making sure that the only exit from the loft bed is still the ladder. He then makes sure that I am safe by sniffing my face. Finally he is ready to buckle down in his post. He stretches out as he lies down right at the opening for the ladder. He will bravely stay at his post keeping watch, unless he falls asleep, until my morning alarm goes off. Most days he will even stay pass the alarm going off and it will take me nearly throwing him down the ladder for him to move.
Now, since I am the one being protected I cannot be the first one out of the bed. He cannot and will not simply move aside. He needs to clear the area or at least the ladder. He makes his safety check by climbing down part way, stopping at the window for a moment, and then going out the window onto the roof.
His reward for being brave and protecting me all night is his breakfast that I pour him usually while I am still asleep.
At least, that is what I am telling myself. In all honesty he most likely is just being a butt and blocking the ladder, because he knows it annoys me. I will keep trying to convince myself that he is protecting me, because murdering a cat is frowned upon.
Otis, The Hunter.
Otis, the fat grayish-tan feline with thick black stripes, almost sat down next to me as if he wanted to be near the comfort of a human. Before his bum touched the blanket I had brought out onto the roof, Otis heard a noise. It was the famed climbing of a squirrel, that needed to be hunted. There was no time to cuddle the squirrel invader had to be stopped. Only the heroic house cat could hunt and stop this beast, so Otis crouched down and very slightly crept to the skylight, that since it was raised gave a littler cover for his sneak attack. Then since time was of the essence he bolted towards the wild beast, which actually gave the squirrel enough time to see the house cat and climb back to the top of the tree yelling at the cat as it climbed. Otis, who thought himself brave and a great hunter,continued to stalked the frightened and angry sounding squirrel to another higher tree.
Unfortunately the hunt had to end since Otis is a fat house cat who could not even get onto one of the trees. After a minute or less Otis came back to the blanket wanting the petting he ran away from a few moments earlier.
The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Get creative and write an Etheree with more than one verse, but follow suit with an inverted syllable count.
curled up close,
curled in a ball.
Otis is his name.
Furry, friendly and fine
Happy kitty when awake
Otis always has a good time.
The cat named Otis is now sleeping,
curled in a ball close by me as I write.