Poem: Bull
He took the bull by the horns
with his fingers
even though he knew
it would cost him
an arm and a leg.
A penny for your thoughts
someone offered.
And he said
penny wise pound foolish
whatever that meant.
Poem: Sleeping Cat
Sleep as birthright belongs to cat not man,
for man can never look so sweet as cat,
sprawled out in dreams of mice not men,
and yet again provoked,
each day at time the same,
by noise of shopping bag or tin,
the cat jumps up – alive again! -
and makes such caterwauling din
the neighbours think against him you must sin
but all you do is serve as slave not master.
Now put the food into his bowl. And do it faster!
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