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 It’s previously unpublished and unshared, but I feel like maybe someone needs to hear it today.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