The Search

I looked around for beauty but I got distracted

by the grey rain streaks echoed on my kitten’s fur

as she sits all pensive on the window sill.

All I notice are water-stained window panes.


My brain fries synapses and skips seven beats.

She darts forth on sure-footed pads through the snow

like a lynx in the mountains I no longer have before me

to make up for the fault in my wiring.


I missed the deadline on dVerse Poets for the poetic prompt on anthropomorphism of beloved pets, but I am not sure that this poem would have been quite suitable for it anyway. So I am linking it instead to Open Link Night. Join me there for some poetic fun during this month of poetry celebration!


31 thoughts on “The Search”

  1. What a lovely verbal portrait of your cat, Marina Sofia! And it’s interesting, I think, how beauty shows itself even when we’re looking somewhere else for it. Thanks for sharing.

  2. I too think this would have fitted the Tuesday prompt beautifully. One thing I learned in anthropology, the closer to the nose the eyes are set, the more dangerous predator. The only predator more dangerous than cats, large and small, are humans.

    1. I was a bit too late for that prompt. And that is a wonderful bit of knowledge to have. I completely agree that humans are the most dangerous, although not as quick and elegant about it as felines.

      1. So very true! I miss my cat dreadfully but the last one so broke heart when I had to have him put down I said, no more pets. Then Nobodys Cat snuck in and broke my heart this last snow when he died.

  3. Kazensakura has cleared up a question for me as to why I have always distrusted men with close-set eyes! Cats seem capable of touching their past of eons ago on occasion. I like your poem.

    1. They have never really been tamed, they just play along when they feel like it, don’t they? And yes, there is something about close-set eyes…

  4. I so admire the connection to the lynx and this is my favorite line:

    My brain fries synapses and skips seven beats.

    Thanks for joining us ~

  5. It is heartening that there are so many of us who love cats! Yours is very handsome!
    I love the wistfulness of your poem, which is echoes in the vowel sounds, almost like a miaow, in the lines:
    ‘…the grey rain streaks echoed on my kitten’s fur

    All I notice are water-stained window panes’
    ‘My brain fries synapses and skips seven beats’.
    I also like the sense of homesickness in the final lines.

    1. Thank you, I am indeed very auditive, so things creep into my poems sometimes without me being aware of it, so thanks for drawing my attention to it!

  6. Oh, drat!
    I wish I had a cat
    like that!
    I really do, grew up with cats, had cats, then developed allergies to them. A sad
    But I enjoyed my neighbor’s cat who was a lovable curmudgeon. I was one of three people whom he allowed to pet him. But he pulled a few stunts as if he were outside, like grabbing a dove walking across the fire escape — and this through about a 2″ opening. His hunting instincts were well intact.
    But the thing is about cats they hunt to survive, to get food. Or to protect territory or their offspring. Or to clear the varmints out of their homes.
    Not so with humans.

    1. Oh, poor you, I do hope I never develop an allergy to cats. I did suddenly in my early 30s to shellfish (which I love eating, so that’s bad enough!) Yes, their hunting instinct is still alive and well!

  7. I think that what distracted you from your search for beauty was, itself, beauty! By the way…did you want ‘fries’ or ‘fires’ synapses?

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