Honest as the cat

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem is basically just a mystery for everything and everyone.I was studying W.H.Auden's style and while doing so wrote this poem.Panic!At The Disco's song 'I Write Sins Not Tragedies' also helped shape up the poem. A boy is walking through the woods complaining about his life when he knows he shouldn't be doing so,when..Bam! Out of nowhere he sees a peculiar-looking group.They of course are his worst nightmare showing him that complaining will do nothing but make things worst.At the end of the poem all of them are gone, but the boy never returns home for his complaints have been taken away just not in the way he expected.

Submitted: June 11, 2010

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Submitted: June 11, 2010

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How divine,
Is the feline,
With ears layed back take that,
Surely I am a cat.

The blood-stained kestrels they loom,they hover,
Far beneath lies there a pitch black clover,
A boy he walks without a sound,
His dog not lost but in the pound.

A tremor escapes without a meaning,
His mouth he'd better get to cleaning,
Shadows peak at his cold stare,
What could they be? Le Chat Noir,
A reservoir?

But in their place with no sure task,
There stands a mouse,a cat,and a fiddler with a dark red mask,
This was no surprise,no golden feather,
A familiar smell tickled their clothes,was it heather?

This was no home,no toasty welcome,
But the fellows stared on,
A delightful treat to few,but a funeral to some.

A bloodcurling scream escapes the night,
No boy left now,but an over-rated fight,
Amidst the blood and terror there lies a circus hat,
Gone forever are the fiddler,the mouse,and the little black cat.


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