Sometimes I dabble in poetry. Not high-quality, thought-provoking, beautiful poetry, but ridiculous, not-taking-itself-too-seriously, occasionally humorous poetry. I probably read too much Shel Silverstein and Dr Seuss as a child and never fully recovered.
As I’m typing this, my cat is meowing and glowering at me, insisting that it is lunch time. (It’s not.) I’m reminded of a poem I wrote a couple years ago. It’s previously unpublished and unshared, but I feel like maybe someone needs to hear it today.
Feelings
It doesn’t matter much you say
Well, naturally you’d feel that way
It may not matter much to you
That doesn’t make my mood untrue
It matters quite a bit I’d say
If you were me you’d feel the same
I don’t care if it’s not time
The way I’m feeling is not fine
I just would think you’d understand
The way I feel when you open the can
I’m very hungry and that is that
Please go right now and feed the cat
-The Cat