THE cat with three eyes
saw the mouse with two
said the mouse to the cat,
“i’ll gladly give you cheese
for an eye”
whisker-twitching thinking-cat pondered,
said, “if the toy gets trapped
under the refrigerator, was it ever a toy
at all?”
AND the mouse wept knowing
a third eye is god-like.
:: 09-11-2015 ::
“Suppose I am mad,” thought Alice, “or suppose I don’t know. Then I shall just have to live with it like an ordinary person.”
“There’s no use asking whether you’re mad or not,” said the Cat, “you’ll only find out when you die. Now, as to your business—why, you can’t help having it any way. You’re part of a whole and that whole’s mad.”
Alice thought this over and found out that, in a way, it was true. “If I’m not mad,” she said, “how come all these things happen to me, and how come I can see through walls, and–and such things?”
“You’re not mad,” said the Cat, “but you might start being if you didn’t stop to think. That’s the biggest trouble with you young ‘uns: you don’t stop to think.”
“How can you talk all that nonsense!” said Alice indignantly.
“It’s the best of ideas,” said the Cat.
“Oh, shut up!” said Alice.
“Do you think I ought to shut up?” said the Cat. “Do you think it’s going to do me any good?”
Alice began very much to wish she had not asked such questions, for the Cat only went on and on, explaining and justifying itself, till at length a look of thunder came over its face, and it said in a menacing tone:
“As I was saying, you can’t help having it any way. You’re a chicken, after all!”
“Now, you may be right,” said Alice, feeling very much calmed down at once, “and you may be wrong, but it’s a good deal better to be right than to be right foolishly, isn’t it?”
The Cat only grunted this time.
“Now, you don’t really think I ought to shut up, do you?” said Alice; “do you, in your own mind?”
“You’ve quite got it into your head,” said the Cat.
:: 04.12.2022 ::
NUMB(Land) came ashore near the boat house
where i last saw my precious kitty cat.
And upon the edge of sea and skies
i see a brewing storm and i fret for her.
How i want her and I need her although
she acts as though she never loved me.
i saw inside her eyes last night
that she cries all for me.
I stayed home all week and now the storm
past but my heart aches | i won’t forget her.
Today i found a soulless mouse next to my door.
How she breaks my heart because she shan’t
cry for no one any longer but I believe in her.
:: 11.16.2021 ::
UNDER the silver-eyed moon
where it always hangs
it spoke by way of Monday
i saw upon the horizontal
fence the eyes of a cat
too, its eyes spoke
and three eyes now
upon my soul, counting me
— five in all
Soon the clouds had shut
the moon, meowed the cat
and skipped away
leaving me with two
i could watch Rome
with five but two —
too few for my to-night
But the cat exquisitely ran!
But not so elegantly the moon!
And me, two eyes two feet
two glazed, too stiff
where i always hang
:: 11-11-2014 ::
(c) E.P. Robles 2013
III
know that i was to pen a poem about your loving graceful self
whoever you are my future lover but feline pleasure command
demanding attention from surely something more than i
that meow transcended fangy pleasure plush quadruped heart
mystical thoughts transmitted electrical blue sparks
hurting that thinking machine but the source so sweet
no difference between my cat
and that future lover
plush love purring throughout the night
:: 02-08-2014 ::
I DON’T even want to say hello
unless the cat has run away
could you be more explicit
in your demanding ways
I don’t even want to feed the fish
who says the ocean can’t live
if your love isn’t given my way
Life was easy when it was boring
nothing more than schemes of thieving
so it was when I woke up this morning
Life is so blue when colors run south
I don’t’ even believe in the fairy
who says the rabbit likes the eggs
and Santa has it easy with his wife
Rudolph gives more than his red light
Life is boring but when I’m snoring
life has more than just a meaning
life is dreaming without a reason
I can dream of schemes…
when I’m dreaming in my sleep!
::01/03/2014::
 | EPRobles on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 