A Cat's Guide to Motherhood

[carahmellow]

I was reading Charles Bukowski's collection called "On Cats" and it inspired me to write a poem about an experience I had with one of my cats a few years ago. 

Feel free to give me critique and advice. Thanks for reading.


It was a Tuesday;
husband planted behind a glowing screen,
me, drowning in anxiety
with irritation
from my child’s blunders
pressing down upon my weary shoulders.

I knelt to the guilty,
settled on the pillowed couch.
Face close, fingers up,
shouts of discipline,
rash and rough.

It was then...
the wise one jumped.
Eye to eye she sat,
between me and our daughter,
with a glare to cower the weak,
wielding the sharp sword of a mother.

With a solid pop of her paw
to my startled cheek, 
the very one her loving forehead bumps,
she reminded me–
her silly little human

to get it together.

[busker]

I was reading Charles Bukowski's collection called "On Cats" and it inspired me to write a poem about an experience I had with one of my cats a few years ago. 

Feel free to give me critique and advice. Thanks for reading.


It was a Tuesday;
husband planted behind a glowing screen, … confused me at first. I thought the husband was planting in the garden, behind a screen. I don’t think it’s that - it’s a TV or computer or mobile screen - should it be planted behind or in front of? Otherwise, the opening is fine 

me, drowning in anxiety
with irritation
from my child’s blunders
pressing down upon my weary shoulders. … too many words 

I knelt to the guilty,
settled on the pillowed couch.
Face close, fingers up,
shouts of discipline,
rash and rough. … I had to read a few times to figure out if this is your daughter or the cat. I think it’s the daughter, for the next strophe to work. But “pillowed couch” is too much cat. Also, your fingers or your daughter’s? It’s a fairly confused image for the reader.

It was then...
the wise one jumped.
Eye to eye she sat,
between me and our daughter, - maybe some other way to emphasise our instead of italicising the word? The italics point at, even shout out, the dry humour. Doesn’t land.
with a glare to cower the weak,
wielding the sharp sword of a mother.

With a solid pop of her paw
to my startled cheek, 
the very one her loving forehead bumps,
she reminded me–
her silly little human

to get it together. ….. nice ending 

I think it would be a nice little light little poem with fewer words.
“
Some suggestions above

[carahmellow]

Thanks Busker.... That helped a lot. Here is my revised version taking in some of your advice. might play around with it a bit more.

It was a Tuesday;
husband slumped before a glowing screen,
me, drowning in anxiety
irritated by my child’s blunders
that pressed upon my weary shoulders.

I knelt down to my little one,
my face close, fingers up,
shouts of discipline,
rash and rough.

It was then…
the wise one jumped.
Eye to eye she sat between
me and our shared daughter,
with a glare to cower the weak,
wielding the sword of a mother.

With a solid pop of her paw
to my startled cheek, 
the very cheek her loving forehead bumps,
she reminded me–
her silly little human

to get it together.