#NaPoWriMo Entry #12: “Temples”
Today’s NaPo poem was not actually inspired by the picture in this post. Rather, it was inspired by some random thoughts I have about cats, which includes thinking of them as slave masters. The poem isn’t explicitly humorous, though. In any case, here’s the poem (feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts or a link to your own NaPo entry): Bow before your master… “Temples” I dream the sun swept me away on a cruel wind tide with twisted fingers of porous stone creaking and graceful sunbolt hands lifting me to a heaven yet written in the histories. Not Death’s vision, but the serene whisper of a higher plane. The cats known the place by its temples, where they collude to one day return with men clipped at their feet — No, paws. Claws. Whichever. Terrible the feeling of loss, but the cats are emperors in their minds and they have no dreams but those they bring back (in black) to the old Empire. Rule, Britannia. Britannia rules the waves… Perhaps it should be Catannia rules the graves. Or perhaps it’s a pernicious psychosis which explains my distrust of cats. (Or, they are truly up to no good, clambering on clawed limbs in nostalgic obsession). How alike, the cats and empire, ever so sure of themselves, sure of me sure of the winter bones left behind by their soon-armies. My mother says I have an over-reactive imagination (or is it hyperactive, like a feline enemy), but to read between the lines of my dreams tells me “Doom.” The tricksters have finally come to play…