Category Archives: poems

Cat Poem

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This poem was originally published alongside many student poems in the Mendocino Poets in the Schools 2016 County Anthology. This Spring I was teaching rhyme to a class of fourth graders when one student raised her hand and said, “Why don’t we read your cat poem?” It turns out the kids like it, which is about as high a compliment as a poem can get.

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Cat Gone Two Weeks

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by Jasper Henderson
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Cat be nimble           Cat be quick
Cat sleep on window   And then get sick
Cat be happy            Cat be sad
Cat bites ankle          Cat is mad
Cat be bored            Cat be aware
Cat hear noise           Cat get scared
Cat be fat                Cat be in love
Master’s home           Time for a rub
Cat be hungry           Cat meows
Food bowl refilled       Cat chows
Cat in the hat            Cat in a box
Cat in a fight            Sounds like a fox
Cat is tired              Cat takes a nap
Cat wins a job           The better mouse trap
Cat on a fence           Cat in a hole
Cat in hiding place      Where did cat go?
Cat has gone out        Cat is due back
Where could cat be?     Alas and alack!
Cat has gone missing    Cat just flat gone
Cat left no clue          Cat left no song
Cat was so mean        Cat did us wrong
Cat gone two weeks     Cat gone too long
Cat came back!          Just yesterday
Cat sauntered in         We said hoo-ray!
Cat is the best           Cat is my friend
Cat needs a rest         So this is the end

Translation of “Lift” by Sergei Tretyakov

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Here’s a translation of an obscure Russian poem that I completed five years ago.  Although the translation takes a few liberties, I hope these help capture something of the playfulness of the original. I found this poem in the great anthology Poetry of the Silver Age (Поэзия Серебряного века) published in Moscow by EKSMO in 2002.
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Lift

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by Sergei Tretyakov
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You in darkness read, like a cat,
Small print on snowdrifts.
Vertical is our common path,
The singsong lift.
Just us two in this mobile pantry.
We’ll flirt!
Don’t flinch, with a gaze that’s stingy,
From the wreath of myrtle.
After all, you know, at love play the birds!
Oh! God grant me health!
I quite forgot that your floor’s the third,
And mine — the twelfth.
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(tr. Jasper Henderson, 2011)
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Лифт

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Сергей Третьяков

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Вы в темноте чимаете, как кошка,
Мельчайший шрифт.
Отвесна наша общая дорожка,
Певун-лифт.
Нас двое здесь в чуланчике подвижном.
Сыграем флирт!
Не бойтесь взглядом обиженным
Венка из мирт.
Ведь, знаете, в любовь играют дети!
Ах боже мой!
Совсем забыл, что Ваш этаж — третий,
А мой — восьмой.
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1913

Mr. Buff

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This is the end of the line. All that’s left is Mr. Buff. And he’s in the middle of a mud bath.