file under 'will never be published' (no. 3)

file under 'will never be published' (no. 3): 

After Lear 

Background: Sometimes, one runs out of ideas to write about -let's be honest.  
When this happens, there are two options: 

1) take a break from writing; or 

2) seek inspiration.  

This poem was an example of seeking inspiration --in this case, from Edward Lear's well-known poem, "The Owl & The Pussy-Cat" (click link for the original). As an unrepentant uncool person, I will admit to enjoying --yes, enjoying --writing poetry with constraints like rhyme and meter and the like. I don't know if I do it well, but I certainly like trying. I also enjoy extending and retelling other people's work.

Edward Lear's original poem is a favorite from my childhood. It consists of three joyful stanzas filled with romance and silliness. These additional three stanzas, however, examine possible ulterior motives. A cat marries a bird, after all --that can't end well. It is a cautionary tale and a tragedy, and I feel like I owe Edward Lear a post-mortem apology. His original was so sweet, and mine is ... not.

It will never be published for the following reasons: 1) frankly, I murdered a classic; 2) it rhymes; and 3) it's poetry.

After Lear

IV

The next day at dawn, Puss stretched with a yawn

While Owl lay fast asleep.

Puss smiled at her ring, that glamorous thing,

And at Owl –both hers to keep.

Puss gazed at the money (they had eaten the honey)

In its packet, that had grown far too thin.

“O it’s simply not fair that I have to share!”

Puss whispered beneath her grin,

  Her grin,

  Her grin,

Puss whispered beneath her grin.

V

“Such hard work!” Puss mewed with a smirk.

“But my labor is nearly complete.

It’s just as I planned –I’ll keep my band

And soon have Owl to eat.

I’m done with his foolery!  I’ll keep all the jewelry!

And I’ll use that runcible spoon!

Not on mince, or querulous quince –

On that bird who can’t carry a tune,

  A tune,

  A tune!

On that bird who can’t carry a tune!”

VI

So that cynical Cat grew flagrantly fat

On her late husband, the Owl.

She sat and she thought on the spoils that she’d got

And on what she had lost.  Puss cried: “Fowl!
I was willing to sell love for a shilling!

I could not give –I only could take!

I was too hasty and –though you were tasty –

I fear I made a mistake,

  Mistake,

  Mistake!

I fear I made a mistake!”