
The Naked Cat
She struts like sin in stocking feet
no fur to fuss, no shame, no heat
a wrinkled queen in bare delight
who glares as if she owns the night
No modesty, no hint of grace
just sagging skin and resting face
her tail, a whip, her paws, a dare
she’ll steal your chair, she doesn’t care
She sits atop my fresh-washed tee
then stares as if the fault’s with me
one twitch, one yawn,
her brow half-arched
like Cleopatra, freshly starched
She’s velvet-slick, she’s oddly proud
too nude, too still, too loud, too loud
yet every time she starts to purr
I smooth her sides and worship her
Not cute, not soft, not sweet or shy
a wrinkled witch with judging eye
yet I confess, I’m hers by choice
that bossy cat
with no fur coat and far too much damn voice

About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️




Comments (5)
These cats remind me of Yoda for some reason. Not a cat person but to each his/her own.
I’m a cat lover myself. No hair balls or matted coats to come with LOL!
Brilliantly sassy! Loved the attitude, the rhythm, and that unapologetic feline pride—she truly owns the poem (and the house)!
Wow, she has the eyes of a 5000-year old soul. Did she walk with pharaohs back in the day?
I love this! I've touched one of these cats before, they feel so weird!