Tales and Tails

If you see me like this—
belly exposed, paws in the air,
looking far too cute to resist—
what would you do?

A tummy rub?
You know I’ll squirm and kick,
pretending I didn’t want it—
but secretly, I do.

A gentle kiss?
That’s even better.
I’ll blink at you slowly,
the way I say “you’re mine.”

Or maybe you’ll just laugh,
because I look ridiculous—
like a spilled bag of marshmallows
with whiskers.

I’m silly, I know.
But it’s how I tell you
that this place, this life,
is good with you in it.

So go on—rub, kiss, laugh—
any answer is the right one.
Because if you see me like this,
it means I’m happy,
and I want you close.

Can you sit like these two?
Bet your body shouts, “No, thank you!”
Legs out front, all neat and flat—
Somehow comfy if you’re a cat.

Try it once, you’ll tip and slide,
Your knees will flop to either side.
Your balance goes, you start to sway—
“Who even sits like this all day?!”

Cats just blink, like, “See? It’s easy.”
While you sit crooked, stiff, and queasy.
Kitties twist and fold, then stare right through—
No chance you'll sit like these two!

I’m snow-white silk with a hunter’s knack,
Today’s the day — I caught the black.
He slipped through shadows, smooth and sly,
But I was quicker, sharp and spry.

No more whispers, no more boasts,
I chase down legends, I catch the ghosts.
One green, one blue, my eyes don’t lie —
The black cat’s mine, and here’s the prize.

So spread the word from street to street,
The white cat rules, the hunt’s complete.
I wear the crown, no looking back —
The king who finally caught the black.

In a quiet chamber, lit by two trembling flames,
a silver tray holds relics with forgotten names.
The candles stand like sentinels, their wax tears slowly fall,
casting long and crooked shapes that stretch across the wall.

Between them rests a bottle, sealed and still with care,
its label speaks of distant sands, of sunlight, salt, and air.
Though far removed from ocean tides, the grains within still gleam,
as though they carry whispers from a half-remembered dream.

And there — upon the shadows’ edge, where silence folds in tight,
a pale cat curls with watchful eyes that shimmer in the night.
She does not stir, she does not speak, yet in her steady gaze,
the room is held in reverence, suspended in a daze.

The candles seem to answer her, their flames both bow and sway,
as though they know the guardian who keeps the dark at bay.
No shadow dares to steal the light, no echo dares to roam,
for where the pale cat chooses, the chamber feels like home.

So rest, while sands remember, and flames in silence glow —
the keeper of the candlelight will guard you as you go.

A grumpy cat snug in a blanket so bright,
Dreaming of tuna through most of the night.
One paw tucked in, the other at rest,
Clearly convinced that this spot is the best.

The quilt screams festive, but let’s be well-read—
A Christmas blanket? In a heatwave? On this bed?
A royal furball with a judgmental stare,
On this cozy throne, she's the boss of the lair.

Up on my perch, I sit and I stare,
the floor is my kingdom, the couch is my lair.

I watch every shadow, each rustle, each sound,
then strike like a hunter, my paws hit the ground.

It looks like I’m playing, but really I scheme—
the world is my toy, and I rule in my dreams.

Eight little ferals, playful and sweet,
Each with a name that makes them unique.

Tinks is curious, quick on her feet,
Ace is brave, with mischief to meet.

Theodore watches, so gentle and fair,
Shadowy whiskers belong to Bear.

Rocky is sturdy, he’s bold through and through,
Snowy-white MJ has mischief to do.

Bane is a rascal, with spark in his eyes,
While Stubby brings laughter with tiny surprise.

Together they tumble, together they play,
Eight little ferals, brightening each day.

Tinks whispers gently, “Tell us what you adore—
A memory, a moment, a dream to explore.”

Ace leans in closer, “Don’t be shy, take your chance,
Share the song in your soul, or the joy of a dance.”

Theodore smiles, “What warms up your days?
Write it in words, in your own special ways.”

Bear says with courage, “Your voice has its place,
The world needs your story, your love, and your grace.”

Rocky is playful: “Tell us things that inspire,
The sparks in your heart, the flames of desire.”

MJ nods kindly: “It’s your turn to be heard,
No tale is too small, no thought too absurd.”

Bane adds with promise: “We’ll listen, we’ll care—
Your treasures are precious, please choose to share.”

Stubby concludes, “So gather, dear friends,
Your writings, your passions, where heart never ends.
Together our voices will weave, line by line,
A chorus of love, both yours and mine.”

yes
may I help you
or are you just here
to stare at me again
like I’m some sort of painting
that meows when hungry

you look a mess
I look flawless
we all have our roles

I see you haven’t mastered
basic grooming
yet here you are
taking pictures of me
like you’re the artist

yes
I’ll allow it
but only because
your cell camera
deserves at least one thing
worth looking at

I gaze at the cat with a snow-white coat,
One eye says “Trust me,” the other says “Don’t.”

Golden eye gleams with a comforting glow,
"Come closer, dear human, I won’t bite, you know."

But the blue one narrows, cold as the sea,
"Ignore his lies — beware of me!"

"Sit on my lap, I’ll purr all night."
"Or nip your hand just for delight."

"Pet me gently, I’ll bring you peace."
"Until I decide your cuddles must cease."

One eye whispers, “I’m angel, divine.”
The other smirks, “The chaos is mine.”

So I stare at the cat, unsure what to do,
Do I trust the gold or the blue?

The cat just blinks slowly, smug in its throne,
Both eyes laughing, "You’ll never know.”

A fluffy cat with eyes that gleam,
One gold, one blue — a perfect team.
She guards the house both day and night,
With judgment sharp and fur so white.

The sign proclaims what she already knew,
“All guests must be approved — it’s true!”
She sat there proudly, full of clout,
Deciding who gets in (or out).

I took the photo, thought I’d impressed,
But her stare said, “Hmm… you’re not on the guest list.” 😳

Two little turtles kissing by a lake,
Daddy turtle walked up — oh, what a mistake!
He stretched out a claw, with a look so grim,
“Cut out the smooching, or you’ll answer to Mom!”

The lovebirds froze, shells pressed tight,
They’d been caught red-handed in broad daylight.
So if you’re a turtle and romance you seek,
Better check who’s watching from over the creek! 🐢💋

It’s been too long, but have no fear,
I’ve brought my green-eyed gaze back here.
I’ll sit and stare, all calm and wise,
While you get lost in these bright eyes.

You’ve missed this look, I surely know,
That’s why I’ve come to steal the show—
So settle in, enjoy the sight,
Your emerald show is here tonight.

I fluttered down, wings swift and light,
The fountain called, so clear, so bright.
I reached the dish, I reached it first,
My tiny throat cried out for thirst.

I know she’s near, I feel her stare,
The other waits, she’s always there.
At any beat I’ll dash away,
If she should rise or block my stay.

One sip, two sips—I take my chance,
Glancing back with wary glance.
For statues don’t just sit so still,
Unless they hide a secret will.

The water ripples, cool and fair—
And then she moves! She’s really there!!!
Not stone, not bronze, no idle play,
A fairy came to drink today.

He pressed himself against the ground,
while stems and shadows wrapped him round.
His wide eye watched, his whiskers still, his body bent to earth’s own will.

We saw him there, yet made no sound,
let silence guard his chosen ground.
Our careful steps moved soft, aside,
so not to break the place he’d hide.

And as we passed, the moment stayed,
respect for the small life we weighed.
A hidden one, so near to us,
the trail belonged to him—not us.

I came to see what the world might show—
the quiet secrets rivers know,
the way the sky leans close to land,
the stories waiting, yet unplanned.

Then you arrived, a gentle surprise,
a fellow dreamer beneath these skies.
And as we sat, the world grew wide,
its wonders doubled, side by side.

For beauty grows when two hearts share,
a simple bench becomes a prayer.
So—won’t you sit here while I wait
and see what beauty nature creates?

Put down that gadget, no need for the screen,
There’s fluff on this belly, the softest you’ve seen.
The paws are up high, the moment’s just prime,
Come join the fun—it’s tummy-scratching time!

If you find me upside down, don't be fooled-this is a trap.

You'll be helpless against the big eyes, the tiny paws curled just so, the "I'm too cute to resist" spell.

And once you give me belly rubs... well, let's just say you're mine now.

Holding hands, in any form, is a promise. A promise that says: I’m here. You’re not alone. We face this world together.

Like these two cats, we all shine brighter when we find someone to walk beside us, someone who doesn’t need words to understand the comfort of touch, the warmth of presence, and the quiet strength of companionship.

On a bed with snowflake flair,
Two cool cats were lounging there.
Up front sat Sir Whisker McHat,
In a black cap—yes, imagine that!

His eyes shone bright, his fur a glow,
A Siamese with style to show.
Behind him lounged his partner, Patch,
A dapper gent with fur to match.

Sir Whisker said, “We rule this land,
With mighty paws and hats so grand.
I guard the snacks, I guard the door,
I’ll chase the red dot—never ignore!”

Patch just smirked, with half-closed eyes,
“Your rhymes are bold, but no surprise.
I’m king of naps, the dreamland knight,
I snooze all day, then play at night.”

Together they were quite the pair,
One full of swagger, one full of flair.
A team of charm, both quick and sly,
Two furry legends—meow and goodbye!

I found your scent and made my bed
Where yesterday still softly spread.
Your clothes, not clean, but full of you—
The things you’ve touched, the life you do.

I curled inside the warmth you leave,
A small and silent way to grieve.
Not sadness, no—just something deep,
That draws me here to dream and sleep.

You pass me by, you smile, you stay,
And let me steal the weight of the day.
You do not move me, though you could—
You understand. You’ve understood.

I hear the world, but I don’t wake.
Not when there’s nothing here to take.
I have what matters. I am known.
I’ve found your heart. I’ve made it home.

One eye gold, the other sky,
What do you see as time slips by?
Do worlds unfold that I can't name,
In shadow's hush or candle flame?

You do not speak, you do not stray—
But still, I feel you see the way.

In a quiet room, where the sunlight streams,
Lived a cat named Luna, with curious dreams.
Her fur was of silver, her eyes wide with glee,
She gazed at the picture—"A tiger like me!"

The tiger on canvas, so noble, so bold,
With stripes painted golden, a story untold.
Luna crept closer, her whiskers a-twitch,
"Could this be my cousin? Or some kind of switch?"

The tiger replied (or at least in her head),
“I’m king of the jungle, where many have fled.
But you, little Luna, with heart full of fire,
Are queen of the sofa, the shelves, and the dryer.”

Luna stood taller, her tail gave a swish,
She dreamed of adventures, as bold as her wish.
Together they roared—one silent, one loud,
A housecat, a tiger, both equally proud.

So if you walk by and see them that way,
A tiger and cat on an ordinary day,
Remember the magic, the bond they declare,
For courage and spirit are treasures they share.

Not just out of instinct, but because for a moment you trust the world enough to let it disappear.

Maybe we all need more of that—little silences where we stop checking for danger, and let ourselves believe we’re safe in someone else’s nearness.

In the realm of quiet rooms and sunlit windows, Ginnie reigns. Her paws, tipped in white, tread softly, yet every step carries the weight of command.

Her gaze is not for the faint of heart. It will measure you, weigh your soul, and pass judgment on the next fifty souls who dare stand behind you. And still, it will linger, as if deciding whether to let you remain in her presence.

Those she chooses are guarded fiercely. Her love is not requested — it is granted, and when it is, it surrounds you like stone walls and warm light.

To be loved by Ginnie is to be claimed forever, for she is not merely a cat — she is the watchful keeper of her kingdom, and her story is one you do not leave once you enter.

Welcome! Here's a quick one to start the community!

White cat sleeps in quiet light,
Blanket warm and moon just right.
Black cat watches, always near-
In his dreams or curled ear to ear.

Soft as stars and brave as flame,
Guardian shadow, without name.
Sleep, sweet snow, no need to roam.
Your angel's here to guide you home.