My Cat

Cougar       My Cat
I always know
where he is at.
He naps inside
a flower pot.
Get’s a drink
when weather’s hot–
and when it’s not.
He shares his drink
with big bluejays
and never chases
them away.
He would catch
the peckerwood
if only he could.
End of story
about my cat.
I know exactly
where he’s at.
© Baker Nichols



Cougar’s First Snow

Cougar's First Snow

Cougar’s First Snow

Cougar was quite surprised at his first snow.
His black, soft fur contrasted with the white.
His yellow-green eyes were brightly aglow.
And he wandered about in dark of night
only to find there was nowhere to go.
So he fell asleep in the pale moonlight.
I could not find him at first, the  next day–
his tracks led straight to the bird feeding tray.

C Copyright, 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols

This poem is by the Ottava Rima pattern. Three a-b pairs that end in a couplet.

Cougar–He’s a Cat

Cougar, the Cat

His name is Cougar, he’s a cat.
His eyes are green and very bright.
His fur is black as any hat
and shiny as a star at night.
He purrs just like a motor car
and ventures out but not too far.

c Copyright, 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols

(Note: This poem is in the Sestet form)