‘Cat and Dog’ Poems
Cats and dogs make lovely pets.
Rhinoceros do not.
Bananas are no good as pets at all.
I had a pet banana
And I took it to the park,
But it wouldn’t ever fetch a stick or ball.
My kats pome
My kat writ this pome
It writ it lait last nite
It isn’t very brilyant
Cos my kat weren’t taut to rite
My dog makes stupid mistakes
My dog makes
When flying in his plane,
And due to that
It is my cat
Who flies him home again.
A poem about my old cat
This is a poem about my old cat.
Now I know there is nothing too strange about that,
For cats have been commonly featured in rhyme.
But never my cat. This is my cat’s first time.
This is a poem about my old cat.
It won’t be the same as the one in the hat,
For that one’s a legendary volume of prose,
And I have to admit this is not one of those.
This is a poem about my old cat.
You can read it stood up or stay where you are sat.
You can read it in bed or at school or at play,
But just make sure you read it in some way today.
This is a poem about my old cat,
For poems with cats are where poems are at.
Poems with dogs in don’t work any more,
But I can’t explain why for I’m not really sure.
So that was a poem about my old cat.
I think you’ll agree that I’ve got him down pat.
He’ll be so delighted, so pleased to find out
That he is the cat that this poem’s about.
Geoff and Cat
I have a dog. I have a cat.
Dog does this. Cat does that.
Dog called Geoff. Cat called Cat.
Cat and Geoff content with that.
When I wake up in my bed
Geoff sniffs toes, Cat licks head.
Cat likes smooth. Geoff likes pat.
Easy-pleasey Geoff and Cat.
I tell Cat and Geoff some stuff.
Cat meows. Geoff goes woof.
Geoff stands up. Cat stays sat.
Cat and Geoff don’t like to chat.
I buy this. I buy that.
This for Geoff. That for Cat.
Cat eats this. Geoff eats that.
Geoff and Cat get full and fat.
Geoff and Cat go out to play.
Cat likes night. Geoff likes day.
Geoff chase stick! Cat chase rat!
Rat and friends chase Geoff and Cat.
I sit down. Nine o’clock.
Geoff comes in. Cat wakes up.
Geoff lies down. Out goes Cat.
Cat and Geoff. This and that.
Old Fred and Kazinsky
Old Fred never knew where Kazinsky went to every night when he opened the door.
That cat would run free and he’d sprint up the tree to the roof, then away to explore.
He’d hear a faint howl and then sometimes a growl and then nothing until the next day
When Kazinsky returned, but Old Fred never learned where he went till he looked far away.
Now Old Fred had no job (he was old), but a hobby he had was to gaze at the stars
And the planets and moon (with its seas and its dunes). He would spend all night gazing afar.
One night as he gazed out his window and raised his old telescope up to a crater
He had to look twice when he saw several mice running round with a mouse sized cheese grater.
‘Mice on the moon!’ shouted Fred in a swoon. ‘Mice on the moon! It can’t be!
It can’t be moonmice! It can’t be, I say twice. But I see moonmice! That’s what I see!’
He rubbed at his eyes, looked again at the skies, at the moon, at the…what on Earth’s that?
Then out from a dune on the moonmice’s moon sprang a
‘Kazinsky!’ yelled Fred, as the moonmice all fled, leaving clouds of cheese dust in their wake.
‘Kazinsky!’ yelled Fred. ’It’s Kazinky!’ yelled Fred. ‘It’s Kazinsky and make no mistake!’
In and out the moon’s holes, up and down the moon’s knolls, the wee moonmice ran eeking and squeaking.
They poked out their tongues and they wobbled their bums while Kazinsky chased after them, shrieking.
At times the moon wobbled while moonmice were gobbled and mooncheese flew this way and that.
Some leapt for the stars, but they didn’t get far for Kazinsky the cat chased them back.
At one point there landed a spaceship commanded by aliens from far away,
And Kazinsky sold mice to them for twice the price of what Earthlings would normally pay.
This madness went on more than half the night long as the moon swam away from the east.
And let it be said that the cat of Old Fred had a handsome and heavenly feast.
As the sun started rising on the eastern horizon the moon met the Earth in the west,
And Kazinsky stepped down to the new morning’s ground to prowl home for a well deserved rest.
Kazinsky arrived at just gone half past five as Old Fred nodded off where he sat.
Through the window he crept as Old Fred soundly slept, dreaming dreams of an astronaut cat.
He strolled to the chair and to Fred sleeping there and he settled down onto his lap,
And Kazinsky the cat and Old Fred, just like that, spent the whole day enjoying a nap.
My dog dug a hole
My dog dug a hole in the garden today.
It got bigger and bigger and bigger.
‘It took me a while,’ he announced with a smile
As he climbed from the seat of his digger.
‘I buried a bone in the garden last Tuesday
And went out to find it today.
I dug for three hours, pulled up all of your flowers,
But that bone just does not want to play.
I chipped a few nails, lost the wag in my tail,
And I bit through a pipe, I’m afraid.
Just look at my paws! They are rubbed red and raw.
So I borrowed your best garden spade.
I dug up some pots and a cat in a box
And some gold and an old dinosaur.
But despite finding bones amongst all of the stones
I could not find the one I looked for.
So I called in some help.’ Then a dog gave a yelp,
And another dog said, ‘G’day mate!’
‘What a problem this is,’ said a dog in hi-viz
As he unscrewed my new garden gate.
‘It all has to come down,’ said my dog with a frown,
‘If my bone’s to be found before dark.
I know it’s upsetting, but don’t you go fretting.
We’ve made you a bed in the park.
Right!’ yelled my pooch, ‘We don’t have time to mooch!
It’s about time you mutts earned your moneys!’
Then into a crane jumped a pug and Great Dane
Wearing hardhats and wrap around sunnies.
That ball it swung past and that ball it swung fast.
Within minutes my house was no more.
Just the letterbox stood on a thin piece of wood,
Then it creaked and it fell to the floor.
‘Hooray!’ yelled the crew. ‘Now it’s time for a brew.
It’s exhausting destroying a home.
And after our cuppa we’ll have us some supper,
Then continue to search for your bone.’
My anger was building. My building was kindling!
And all for one bone that was lost!
And here were these mutts dunking my Ginger Nuts
In my best china cups at my cost!
Then they put down their mugs and they dug and they dug
And they dug and they dug and they dug.
And out from the hole, like a small doggy mole,
Popped the mud-covered crane-driving pug.
I lost my dog
I lost my dog in Paris, France.
He wore a hat and purple pants.
He shouldn’t have been too hard to find –
That well-dressed dog I left behind.
I left him by the Eiffel Tower –
I only left him for an hour.
When I stepped back onto the ground
That dog was nowhere to be found.
I took a boat trip up the Seine.
I whistled and called out his name.
I asked les personnes if they’d seen
A well-dressed chien (know what I mean?).
A man said, “Oui! J’ai vu le dog,
A-floaty upstream sur un log.”
I said, “Merci,” then kissed the man,
Got off the boat at Notre Dame.
I saw the log beside the wall.
I gave a whistle, then a call
And, high above, a church bell rang,
A dog went woof! A door went SLAM!
I climbed up to the ringing bells
And met a priest called Saint Michel,
Who said he’d just chased off a mutt
With yellow hat and purple butt.
So, off back down the massive church
I stumbled, staggered, tripped and lurched,
And came upon an artists’ group
Who painted prints of doggy poop.
I asked them what it was they drew.
They said, “We draw zee doggy poo
Of zee most fashion-a-bul ‘ound
Zat we ‘ave ever seen around.”
Further away an artist sat,
Painting a man who wore a hat,
A stripy shirt, a huge moustache,
Who disappeared within a flash.
“Let me look at zat, Monsieur,”
I said and grabbed his eraseur,
Then rubbed the shirt and moustache out.
“Zat is my dog!” I gave a shout.
“’Ee went zat way!” yelled the artist.
“It’s time to teach him who’s smartest,”
I answered and, at steady jog,
I chased after that sly old dog.
Oh, that dog was such a nasty teaser.
He hid behind the Mona Lisa.
He taunted me with woof and bark
From high up on the Triomphe d’Arc.
He did another doggy doo
Within the modern Pompidou.
At Moulin Rouge he danced a dance
And flashed his purple doggy pants.
I decided I had had enough,
And put an end to all this stuff;
Decided that that dog in pants
Could stay all by himself in France.
So I caught the Metro underground
And took myself right out of town.
And then I caught a plane back home
And left that dog there all alone.
And to this day I often dwell
Upon that dog I knew so well,
With yellow hat and purple pants –
The one I lost in Paris, France.
My dog, Biffer
Biffer’s got a hat on and he’s hanging out the window.
My dad is speeding fast along the road.
Biffer’s cheeks are wobbling and his ears are flapping backwards.
It’s a thing that dogs enjoy, I have been told.
Biffer’s face is smiling as the wind blows through his whiskers.
My dad slows for a truck that rushes by.
The truck just squeezes past us, nearly taking off our mirror.
Old Biffer moves his head back just in time.
‘That was really lucky,’ says my dad in pure relief,
‘Old Biffer had a very close escape.’
Then Biffer accidentally puts his paw upon the button
And the window chops his head off by mistake.
Old Man Polatski,
He lived in a flatski
And kept a black catski
And called him Big Fred.
Old Miss Kolowski,
She lived in a houseki,
Discovered a mouseki
And wanted it dead.
Said Old Miss Kolowski
To Old Man Polatski,
“Can you send your catski
To kill mouseki dead?”
Said Old Man Polatski
To Old Miss Kolowski,
“Big Fred will catch mouseki
And will be well fed.”
He picked up his catski,
Enjoying his napski
And said to him, “Catchski
A ratski, Big Fred!”
Polatski’s pet catski
Walked slow to the houseki
And found the poor mouseki
Asleep on the bed.
While Old Miss Kolowski
And Old Man Polatski
Stayed inside the flatski
Till mouseki was dead.
Catski chased mouseki
All over the houseki,
Upski and Downski
The two of them fled.
Then catski caught mouseki
(I’m not quite sure howski)
And said to it, “Mouseki,
I want us to wed.”
And mouseki to catski
Said, “But how is thatski?
You live in a flatski.
Please tell me, Big Fred.”
And catski to mouseki
Said, “Please listen nowski.
See, Old Miss Polowski,
She wanted your head.
She asked Old Polatski
To send this big catski
To kill a big ratski
Who lay on her bed.
But you’re a smart mouseki
And it’s a nice houseki,
So we should not rowski
But live here instead.”
So catski and mouseki,
They lived in the houseki
Without Miss Kolowski,
And soon they were wed.
They’re still in the flatski.
And that, sir, is thatski,
And all is now said.
© Copyright Mike Lucas