Pretty Kitty

In the Land of Jaw, there once played Pretty Kitty,
A cat so silky soft, so rare, so furry and truly very well-marked.
Yet she was unhappy in her home where she slept in Peaceful City.
So out of the hat box she suddenly jumped from whence she embarked
on a strange journey some distance off, to be guarded by a wise old owl
who hooted at her in a high and mighty place in a magical pyramid tree,
with strong leafy limbs that nearly touched the sun as far as the eye could see.
Pretty Kitty shivered in her boots like a beast on the prowl.
Marashia.

Good friends of the forest, Racoonish, Goosy, and Uncle Deer
came to Pretty Kitty's aid as she played,
and was oft' tossed about the wide open wilderness spaces.
Wise old owl never once was one to have delayed
a good meal for her in the timeless places
in which they all lived so happily without fear.
Owl watched over Pretty Kitty with her sorcerer's powers.
Like a dinner bell her hoot-hoot-hoots
warned that nothing would dare let her die from hunger pain
as the other wild animals outguessed dangerous routes
that Pretty Kitty might run into at unusual hours.
She missed the City and became touched with sadness that would not wane.


Wishes to find her box were dashed as Owl hid her with the rest of those in the Wood.
Pretty Kitty was remorsefully ill so that the wise old owl had no recourse but to follow
her broken heart and demand that she be cured.
The other animals concurred the same in the purple nightglow.
Owl wanted to perform one of the spells to be assured
that she would be better as well she should.
So Owl sent Pretty Kitty off to the Lake Of Luminous Lilies,
with her wild animal friends by her side.
When she got there she was amazed at what she saw.
There were frogs on every one of the shining, colorful lily pads, misty-eyed.
Pretty Kitty crawled to a pad and gently swatted her paw,
at the toadiest frog she could recognize, really.

"Awaken!" said he.
Why it was the voice of a man in the skin of a frog.
Pretty Kitty, no longer just a plain old cat but more part of a plan,
was swept off her feet by a Prince who wished to take her home,
for she had kissed him sweetly with a muddy lick and a whine like a poem.
She lay on her back laughing, upside-down, quite in love with the young man,
never to miss Owl again in the Wood in an utterly bewitched fog.
So you see she was beautiful again, she was now free.
Mirashia.





First Place Winner/Stormy Lady's Weekly Poetry Contest/2010