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Sleek and black slinks the cat
Snooping through the yard
Under the fence and through the bush
His eyes are looking so hard
For any small creature
That may scoot through the night
That black cat is seeking
His dinner with might
A little gray mouse
So tiny and trim
Turns its head
And looks at him
His eyes open wide
He wiggles his tail
The chase is on
The black cat prevails
The black cat is good
So quick and so fast
Efficient is he
And ever may last
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Defenseless
He was just a playful kitten
As happy as could be
He was black and shunned
By his mama and the other three
I saw him
If only I had two very black cats,
They'd look like two wingless fury bats.
With them I could say a spell,
In the midnight hour;
by G. Allendorfer Anderson, PhD
The best black cat story happened to me
in the year of nineteen eighty-three.
On Halloween morning, just after eight,
I found
by Gary Maclean
Black Cats
Black Cats pay the price
For superstition and fright
For the dark eerie night
Even if they are really nice
Their image,
Black, silky, slinky,
slippery, purry fur.
Gliding on four delicate pads,
eyeing watchfully every breath,
movement, breeze.
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Poetry: Black cats
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