Ambie grew up without having the privilege of being a trustfundista. Poor thing! She had so many "homes" before she finally got here to her forever home.
A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place your sight can knock on, echoing; but here within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze will be absorbed and utterly disappear:
just as a raving madman, when nothing else can ease him, charges into his dark night howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels the rage being taken in and pacified.
She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen into her, so that, like an audience, she can look them over, menacing and sullen, and curl to sleep with them. But all at once
as if awakened, she turns her face to yours; and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny, inside the golden amber of her eyeballs suspended, like a prehistoric fly.
Sometimes the poem doesn't want to come; it hides from the poet like a playful cat who has run under the house & lurks among slugs, roots, spiders' eyes, ledge so long out of the sun that it is dank with the breath of the Troll King.
Sometimes the poem darts away like a coy lover who is afraid of being possessed, of feeling too much, of losing his essential loneliness-which he calls freedom.
Sometimes the poem can't requite the poet's passion.
The poem is a dance between poet & poem, but sometimes the poem just won't dance and lurks on the sidelines tapping its feet- iambs, trochees- out of step with the music of your mariachi band.
If the poem won't come, I say: sneak up on it. Pretend you don't care. Sit in your chair reading Shakespeare, Neruda, immortal Emily and let yourself flow into their music.
Go to the kitchen and start peeling onions for homemade sugo.
Before you know it, the poem will be crying as your ripe tomatoes bubble away with inspiration.
When the whole house is filled with the tender tomato aroma, start kneading the pasta.
As you rock over the damp sensuous dough, making it bend to your will, as you make love to this manna of flour and water, the poem will get hungry and come just like a cat coming home when you least expect her.
Mirrors are not more silent nor the creeping dawn more secretive; in the moonlight, you are that panther we catch sight of from afar.
By the inexplicable workings of a divine law, we look for you in vain; More remote, even, than the Ganges or the setting sun, yours is the solitude, yours the secret.
Your haunch allows the lingering caress of my hand. You have accepted, since that long forgotten past, the love of the distrustful hand.
You belong to another time. You are lord of a place bounded like a dream.
Who could resist those eyes, pussycat? Trusting, demanding, eager, beseeching. We do not know precisely why we find you irresistible. After all, what do you really do to earn your daily portion? Keep the mice at bay? Well, maybe, but that's not why We love you. It's something about your aura of independence Even though we know how vulnerable you really are. We'd hate to see your self-esteem damaged. If anyone hurt or betrayed you, it would certainly damage us. You just know you are important –– And we can't help but respond accordingly. And besides, you have about you an aura of mystery, And enchantment that makes you uniquely beautiful. We can never be sure whether you were put on earth –––– for our benefit, ________or the other way 'round, can we?
BTW, when we named her, she had amber-colored eyes. Now, not so much.
PS: Amber prefers to be called "Ambie" (with the accent on the last syllable). And Cameo likes to be called "Cammie" or "Cam-Cam." Cammie hates the n-word (the word "no"). Cats!
And I just got "Blues"...her name was "Blue," but it was too 'pick up truck and red bandana" for me...so, since I LOVE the Blues, she's BLUES now....big blue eyes out of a dark brown Siamese face..she is HEAVENLY. She was the cat taken in by my friend who'd have been 98 next week....she got her last year...she'd been telling me I should get a pet after Mr. Z died and I kept saying NO all these 7 years...finally, when she passed almost 2 months ago, I took Blues....and I'm so happy I did...She's an AMAZING little girl! And Nancy got her way! Z has a cat!
Hi, the vet thinks she's about four and I can't get a picture that captures her beauty, but I'm TRYING! Those blue eyes are killer but don't really translate to film somehow... Will send one to you ASAP. Thanks xxx
What great news, Z! I'm so glad for you –– and for the kitty named Blues.
I remember your telling me years ago, when I suggested you might want to get another cat or two after Marcello and Musetta passed away, that you couldn't possibly have ANOTHER cat, you only wanted Musetta and Marcello back, which was, of course, impossible.
At any rate, I'm glad you've changed your mind. Cats are like little angels, they bring so much charm and good cheer into our lives.
I don't know what I'd do without my two. Great company both of them, even though they are not very fond of each other.
"There's always something," as Granny used to say in Downton Abbey. I'm going to go on missing that show for a long time.
We welcome civil dialogue at Always on Watch. Comments that include any of the following are subject to deletion: 1. Any use of profanity or abusive language 2. Off topic comments and spam 3. Use of personal invective
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.
It looks like your friend Amber must be a Democrat.
ReplyDeleteDon't you feel bad for having nursed this viper on your bosom?
};^)>
Ambie is NOT a Democrat. She's an Independent.
DeleteAmbie grew up without having the privilege of being a trustfundista. Poor thing! She had so many "homes" before she finally got here to her forever home.
Well, that's a relief!
DeleteShe couldn't have landed in a better place, bless her.
_________ BLACK CAT _________
ReplyDeleteA ghost, though invisible, still is like a place
your sight can knock on, echoing; but here
within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze
will be absorbed and utterly disappear:
just as a raving madman, when nothing else
can ease him, charges into his dark night
howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels
the rage being taken in and pacified.
She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen
into her, so that, like an audience,
she can look them over, menacing and sullen,
and curl to sleep with them. But all at once
as if awakened, she turns her face to yours;
and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny,
inside the golden amber of her eyeballs
suspended, like a prehistoric fly.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
__ THE POEM CAT __
ReplyDeleteSometimes the poem
doesn't want to come;
it hides from the poet
like a playful cat
who has run
under the house
& lurks among slugs,
roots, spiders' eyes,
ledge so long out of the sun
that it is dank
with the breath of the Troll King.
Sometimes the poem
darts away
like a coy lover
who is afraid of being possessed,
of feeling too much,
of losing his essential
loneliness-which he calls
freedom.
Sometimes the poem
can't requite
the poet's passion.
The poem is a dance
between poet & poem,
but sometimes the poem
just won't dance
and lurks on the sidelines
tapping its feet-
iambs, trochees-
out of step with the music
of your mariachi band.
If the poem won't come,
I say: sneak up on it.
Pretend you don't care.
Sit in your chair
reading Shakespeare, Neruda,
immortal Emily
and let yourself flow
into their music.
Go to the kitchen
and start peeling onions
for homemade sugo.
Before you know it,
the poem will be crying
as your ripe tomatoes
bubble away
with inspiration.
When the whole house is filled
with the tender tomato aroma,
start kneading the pasta.
As you rock
over the damp sensuous dough,
making it bend to your will,
as you make love to this manna
of flour and water,
the poem will get hungry
and come
just like a cat
coming home
when you least
expect her.
~ Erica Jong (1942 - )
Her eyes tell the whole story!
ReplyDeleteBunkerville,
DeleteIntent, isn't she?
_______ TO A CAT _______
ReplyDeleteMirrors are not more silent
nor the creeping dawn more secretive;
in the moonlight, you are that panther
we catch sight of from afar.
By the inexplicable workings of a divine law,
we look for you in vain;
More remote, even, than the Ganges or the setting sun,
yours is the solitude, yours the secret.
Your haunch allows the lingering
caress of my hand.
You have accepted,
since that long forgotten past,
the love of the distrustful hand.
You belong to another time.
You are lord
of a place bounded like a dream.
~ William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
__________ TO AMBER _________
ReplyDeleteWho could resist those eyes, pussycat?
Trusting, demanding, eager, beseeching.
We do not know precisely why we find you irresistible.
After all, what do you really do to earn your daily portion?
Keep the mice at bay? Well, maybe, but that's not why
We love you. It's something about your aura of independence
Even though we know how vulnerable you really are.
We'd hate to see your self-esteem damaged.
If anyone hurt or betrayed you, it would certainly damage us.
You just know you are important ––
And we can't help but respond accordingly.
And besides, you have about you an aura of mystery,
And enchantment that makes you uniquely beautiful.
We can never be sure whether you were put on earth
–––– for our benefit,
________or the other way 'round, can we?
~ FreeThinke, October 1, 2016, 7:47 AM
A poem for Amber! I love it, FT!
DeleteThank you so much.
BTW, when we named her, she had amber-colored eyes. Now, not so much.
PS: Amber prefers to be called "Ambie" (with the accent on the last syllable). And Cameo likes to be called "Cammie" or "Cam-Cam." Cammie hates the n-word (the word "no"). Cats!
And I just got "Blues"...her name was "Blue," but it was too 'pick up truck and red bandana" for me...so, since I LOVE the Blues, she's BLUES now....big blue eyes out of a dark brown Siamese face..she is HEAVENLY.
ReplyDeleteShe was the cat taken in by my friend who'd have been 98 next week....she got her last year...she'd been telling me I should get a pet after Mr. Z died and I kept saying NO all these 7 years...finally, when she passed almost 2 months ago, I took Blues....and I'm so happy I did...She's an AMAZING little girl!
And Nancy got her way! Z has a cat!
Your Amber is adorable, and I KNOW that look!
Z!
DeleteHow old is your kitty?
And, most important, do you have a photo of her?
Hi, the vet thinks she's about four and I can't get a picture that captures her beauty, but I'm TRYING! Those blue eyes are killer but don't really translate to film somehow... Will send one to you ASAP. Thanks xxx
DeleteWhat great news, Z! I'm so glad for you –– and for the kitty named Blues.
DeleteI remember your telling me years ago, when I suggested you might want to get another cat or two after Marcello and Musetta passed away, that you couldn't possibly have ANOTHER cat, you only wanted Musetta and Marcello back, which was, of course, impossible.
At any rate, I'm glad you've changed your mind. Cats are like little angels, they bring so much charm and good cheer into our lives.
I don't know what I'd do without my two. Great company both of them, even though they are not very fond of each other.
"There's always something," as Granny used to say in Downton Abbey. I'm going to go on missing that show for a long time.
I'd love to have a Scottish fold. What beautiful cats. Or those massive Maine coon cats.
ReplyDeleteBZ