This poem is inspired by a poem from dead poets society.
A cat
sat
on a mat
:)
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The cat
A cat is a creature with whiskers and some fur
And with an insolent meow or an affectionate purr
Does what it damn pleases as much as it can
And has a mind of its own, almost like a man
well... almost
Has always a mischivious gleam in its green eye
Chases birds on rooftops and fences, ever so spry
Expert stalker, skillfull hunter, always on the alert
And it can jump from anywhere, without getting hurt
well... almost
One pussy frightened a mouse under the qweens chair
They were worhipped in Egypt, and reverred in prayer
A Cheshire one disappeared, leaving behind only a grin
The witches pet, with the soul of the satan within
No, really
Never gets disturbed from its mysterious routine
And grooms itseld by licking itself clean
and now I'm the first to pen a poem about the cat
without using the words fat, mat, pat, sat, rat or mat
well... almost
took an hour to write this poem...
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