Tag Archives: Prose Poem

dogs & cats – a day in the life

the dog…aka Maxwell
the cat – aka Merlin
a day in the life

morning
the dog ...
-gotta pee, gotta pee, maybe a poop
-eat breakfast, yum yum yum
-must have a belly rub or two or three...don’t stop hooman, don’t stop!
-take a nap

the cat ...
-sit on hooman’s face to wake them up, or finish them off...
-on second thought, i need sustenance after the night i’ve had chasing bugs...
-let them live...for now
-eat breakfast
—watch birds outside from the window seat

afternoon
the dog ...
-gotta pee, gotta pee, maybe a poop
-have a treat, yum yum yum
-chase the cat
-bark at the delivery truck
-lick hooman’s face
-take a nap

the cat ...
-spend a few hours sunning
-check in on the hooman who needs to be reminded to take a break now that they work from home and NEVER LEAVE
-walk in front of the work screen
-type a secret message
-shred paper on the desk
-hack up a fur ball on the keyboard
-toss the so-called mouse on the floor
-disappear until dinner

evening
the dog ...
-gotta pee, gotta pee, maybe a poop
-lay on the kitchen floor under the hooman’s feet to supervise dinner making
-after one more pee and poop, eat a night night treat. yum yum yum
-snuggle up close with my hooman for a good sleep
i loves my hooman

the cat ...
-loudly remind hooman it’s dinner time
-sit on hooman’s head at tv time
-after lights out, guard the end of the bed from toe monsters under the covers
-wretch loudly several times during the night
-race up and down the hallway
-sing the song of the night
-watch hooman sleep
tomorrow hooman...tomorrow

~kat

Had some fun for today’s NaPoWriMo2021 – Day 9 Prompt: write a poem in the form of a “to-do list.” The fun of this prompt is to make it the “to-do list” of an unusual person or character. It’s not really a poem, but they say write what you know…


mind blown – NaPoWriMo #8

mind blown

I don’t believe I knew what “brrrblubbbballlloooobalub” meant when I was new and my vocabulary was nonexistent, but I’m guessing I liked it all the same, smiling at my parents’ funny faces when they said it… I don’t believe they understood what it meant either, but it stopped me from crying, so they said it again and again…and again. They didn’t understand a lot of things those early years, as they grew up with me and learned about parenting, trial and error being key…somehow I survived barely, moving on and out before they lost their minds…you think I’m kidding… I should have said, before my father put a bullet between his eyes and my mother destroyed her body with years of drug abuse and doctor tripping…too much?

What I meant to say is that I have a pretty good idea how not to lose oneself to oblivion, not because I’m any less neurotic than my parents…I’m afraid my genes are laced with lunacy…but I have tried to learn from their mistakes, spent decades vomiting words to therapists (with an “s” because it takes time to find the right one who is not a bible-thumping, name it, claim it, pray the demon out of you, zealot), gotten the right mix, the perfect recipe, for my anti-depressive cocktail of pharmaceuticals, legal, of course, and I have tried to be good, to be kind, to be a good listener, to be a helper, but not a doormat, and to learn to say no, to learn to trust, to let myself love another person, and to give myself permission to walk away from anyone or thing that feels wrong…it has taken me a long time to figure out I’m okay…

sometimes I let out a roudy brrblubbbballlloooobalub when no one is listening just to feel the rush of joy that bubbles up inside me, centering me in the moment, so I can breathe in and out and smile. I think I’m starting to understand what that silly gibberish means after all these years. Absolutely nothing, of course and that is okay…that is okay.

~kat

A prose poem for NaPoWriMo 2019 #9 Prompt – Write your own Sei Shonagon-style list of “things.”


You Shoulda Been There – NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 28

Forgive me for not saying goodbye this time. I tried to tell you, nagging, you called it, but you can’t say I didn’t say it a thousand times, our conversations devolving from engaging discussions about the mystery of us, to heated one-sided rants that were less about uncapped toothpaste tubes, more about the mystery of us, shattered. You know I already said goodbye, you do, screaming it at the top of my lungs, and sometimes in whispers, muttered under my heated breath, I’ll give you that, but the truth is, you stopped listening…and so there is this, a postcard from the edge. I’m not sorry you’re not here, don’t miss me, not that you will, now that I’m gone…I promise not to write.

~kat

For NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 28, Prompt: draft a prose poem in the form/style of a postcard. Pictured, is an actual vintage postcard from Palo Alto, California. I added the caption. And the sign, as suggested by my friend Peter at Peter’s Pondering. 😉 I wasn’t sure how to pull off a proper prose poem, so I started with a free verse and then eliminated the line-breaks. At any rate, I loved this bizarre postcard and imagining who might send it!


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