Category: Poetry

He’s gone! My little fishy from the glass which was his home.
Atop the mantle did he swim away from cats below.
Well was he last night when I replaced his water world
Made clear again his vision fed him pellets for his food.
Sleep, did I, so peacefully, in my bedroom far away.
And wake to find another dark and dreary kind of day.
So to my candles, by my fish, I went to light the wicks
that flames which flicker, scents so sweet, my mood would surely fix.
Yet what did greet my weary eyes, but water much too clear.
Yes, one glass of the three was empty, no fish did appear.
Wait! This is the mantle and it’s high and no one’s home.
What happened through the night that I would find my fishy gone?
Guess, I must, for no one saw the fate of my young fish.
Perhaps fresh water, food and such made fishy jump his dish!
Yes, maybe his strong fins pulled him through the water, then
Sent him flying fin and tail right over the rim!
To the mantle’s ledge where fear engulfed his little soul,
Fins still flapping, slippery, no longer in the bowl,
My little fish he moved beyond the mantle’s edge so near
And found himself four feet below, the hard brick caught his tear.
And caught his little body too, the pain he did endure!
How long before sweet death took hold? We’ll never know for sure.
Was it before the cats awoke and came to claim their prize?
If so, my little fishy didn’t see their hungry eyes.
And that, my friends, would be the best of endings we could wish.
For if, instead, the cats, they saw the drop from yonder dish,
eat him alive they would have done without regret or shame.
Imagine my poor fishy falling prey as Puffy’s game?
Oh my, of course, a fate worse yet may have befallen him,
Before devouring, the cats, a fish toy was their whim.
And back and forth between their paws, my little fishy flew.
And only when the game was done, did he become their stew.
No funeral, no prayers were said, upon my fishy’s death.
For cats don’t care about the souls of creatures on their path.
Goodbye, dear fish, forgive me please, for I do take the blame
for your untimely death last night. Peace, til we meet again!
PS:
Alas, I have surrendered to my little fishy’s fate.
What pleasures we all bring to life: both very small and great.
My eyes, they wander to the other fish that I adore.
Now I’m surprised! I’ve found my fishy in the bowl next door!
PPS:
Oh my! Now two are gone, you see,
for in Beta’s we find pleasure.
But fight amongst themselves they’ll do
till death comes round full measure.
And now he waits, my cat, does he
beneath the wondrous mantle sea.
He waits upon the ledge of bricks.
Constantly he smacks his lips.
Perhaps will fall another fish
into the nonexistent dish.
And quickly will he snatch his prey
before that fish can swim away!