The Perk of Being Mrs Wickins’ Cat

There’s milk and strokes
and somewhere warm
to sleep and scratch and think,
but the perk of being
Mrs Wickins’ cat
is the spider in the sink

The spider’s looking scary
and kicking up a stink.
Fetch Mrs Wickens. She’ll soon catch
the spider in the sink

Yes, I’m great at catching spiders,
my claw is lightning fast
I eat the legs one at a time
and save the head for last

There’s milk and strokes
and somewhere warm
to sleep and scratch and think,
but the perk of being
Mrs Wickins’ cat
is the spider in the sink

Corrections

Teacher said,
Leave out the the,
two too's one too too many
and and after the comma
should go after the any.

The the, the too -
and move the and
and that should make it flow.
Not that that, that that's fine -
but this that, that could go.

I said,
The the, the too, the and -
I would agree with you.
But I'm very fond of that -
this that and that that too.

Which that is that?
Is that this that?
Asked teacher with a grin.
Okay - but take that last in out
And leave that last out in.

Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after

Up Jack got and home did trot
As fast as he could caper
He went to bed to mend his head
With vinegar and brown paper

Jill was found still on the ground
By her Uncle Charlie
He took her back home to his shack
And fed her eggs and barley

It came to nought, said Jill, distraught
Oh why did my legs falter?
Said Charlie – Oh, did you not know
A tap turns on the water?

Meanwhile poor Jack (still on his back)
Was feeling proper poorly.
Said Doctor Green, Why, Germolene
Would work much better, surely?

Alas, alack, now poor old Jack
To death was soon succumbing
Jill said, said she, If only we
Had known about the plumbing

4am

Somewhere a dog barks

As you gaze from the dark painting
Chin resting on your hand
Your own dog
Waits patiently

Wasp

A wasp finds itself
Trapped inside my shirt
Escapes without harm

3am

And the house is sleeping fitfully

The pine table and chairs in slumber deep
The bed cannot settle
And the dark corners are restless
The oak beams dream woody adventures from before our time
And a thin-limbed spider puzzles over the nature of porcelain

The clock
Whose tick-tocking is at odds
Tries to keep up

But we are not asleep
You have a finger down your throat
Bringing up the angel
Whose horse you feel is the culprit

And light
Unusually awakened
Stares, as if finding itself in a strange room for the first time
Momentarily bewildered
Its small buzzy followers summoned
to share an unexpected feast

Two Birds at Stone

A fist of white touffeau rock
Falls on the red tiles

Two small, black birds
Dart across the cliff face
Hunting for insects
And singing

Craic
Craic
Craic