Yeah, yeah.. I know. I know what you're thinkin'. I know he's more famous, and all that.
But he wasn't a cat.
Can you imagine? Can you IMAGINE how much greater Will would have been, had he been feline?
I was doin' a little light readin' the other night, and discovered somethin' interestin'. DID YOU KNOW that William Shakespeare turned to writin' poetry durin' the plague in the 1590s?
Yup, that's what he did.
I read it on the Internet so it must be true.
Now I have no idea who THEY are, but they seemed to know what they were talkin' about, and what they were sayin' fit my PURRsonal narrative, so I figured I'd go with what THEY said, without investigatin' any further.
So anyway, they said that Will...
I call him Will, on account of my bein' pretty sure that if he and I, Seville the Cat, were livin' at the same time, we'd be on a first name basis, you see.
But like I was sayin'...
Like I was sayin', THEY said that Will turned to writin' poetry on account of all the theatres bein' shut down for about six months, due to The Plague.
So I figured, if Will turned to poetry durin' the plague, I should try my paw at a little poetry myself. After all, Will didn't have to be cooped up in the same house as Peep #1 and Peep #2 for like an absolute eternity.
So after bein' stuck here with the peeps for like ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY MILLION, six hundred and thirty-six thousand, eight hundred cat seconds, I present to you...
I call it, Ode to a Puddle.
Nothing is as fresh nor as sweet, my love,
as the divine taste of rain that has fall'n
on the path which lies there, next to my house.
The joyful rain that collects in puddles
is known to felines here and everywhere
as puddle water; water that puddles.
For the water that puddles is Heavn's gift
to all who appreciate the finer
things in life, like catnip and wand toys and
nip mice. Oh, the sweet water of puddles.
It comes not from a tap nor a fountain.
'Tis not from anything paw or hand made.
The water that puddles is a sweet gift
from the sky above; pure freshness for me.
So what do you think? Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin?
'Cause I'm thinkin'...
I'm thinkin', Will would have been proud to have called me his contemporary.
Had I been alive in the sixteenth century, of course.
Actually, I think that might mean the same thing.
IF IN DOUBT,
DON'T. GO. OUT.
Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures
AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.
Remember to mask up, too.
Remember to mask up, too.
You're just a natural talent Seville, natural!ReplyDelete
Awww... THANK YOU, my pal. PURRSDelete
What a lovely poem, Seville!ReplyDelete
That old Shakespeare dude would have enjoyed having you as his sidekick!
You think it might have been possible for HIM to have been MY sidekick? Just wonderin'... PURRSDelete
That is a lovely poem Seville. It really reflects a cat point of view with such feeling.ReplyDelete
Well... Well I AM a cat, and a CAT'S point of view is always best. PURRSDelete
Well, Seville DOES rhyme will Will.ReplyDelete
Bravo, Sivvers. Great job on that sonnet!
Thank you so much! I should try writin' some more. What do you think? purrsDelete
Thank you so much, my friends! PURRSDelete
Seville! You gave written a SONNET!ReplyDelete
You should be declared Paw-it Laureate!
A Paw-it Laureate... LOVE IT! purrsDelete
Seville we Love your Poem and make it a point to grab a little drink after the rain. The sad thing is there is only one small spot a puddle can form so there is competition. Now the funny thing is that our feral visitor Big Ginger seems to only drink the water that Dad leaves with his noms. Hmmmm. Maybe since he is an outsider it flips and if you change puddle to dish it fits him better.ReplyDelete
Yup, I bet the indoor-outdoor factor flips it right 'round and upside down. MOUSES!
Will would have had some strong competition, I'd say, Severs! Great sonnet you paw penned there! Paw high fives!ReplyDelete