On life and its vagaries

On Didactics

with one comment

On Didactics


Teaching the cute little wild cat

The sum of life is hard; it can turn bad, ‘cause

The darling is wild, and can only be had

By its silly neck—always remember to catch it firm

(And as one of the old masters told me)


“It is cute, absolutely sweet

But it is dark and mighty wild”


She stands up on her hind legs

Exposing the pristine fur on her belly-side

Her claws spread and her mews rasping

She’s ready for fight, her furs are alight

Her eyes aren’t the same on two

Con-secutive moments

They suck you in, and spread you thin

You be better on the look out

Or she would wound you dead


If you aren’t a cat whisperer

Don’t ever think of  teaching it

And you would be hard put even

To get someone to train her


I picked on a  poet for the purpose.

But that soul  brushed me off with these lines

By singing:


“My love is not speaking( to me) any more

So how can I speak on my own “ (‘Own’ is elongated)

“It is he who speaks through me

And without his words I am no more” (‘More’ is also drawn-out)


That’s some powerful insight

So I left in peace, no business in meddling

In love affairs.


Well I have now decided to release

The  cat kid to the wild.


If poets can’t train a wild cat, who else can?


One Response

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  1. Love it…again:)

    ~Lady Day

    June 10, 2012 at 9:41 am

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