Cat poems

The furry we love and adore have been and are a magnificent source of inspiration for writers, and of course also for poets and poets. Their mysterious gaze, their elegant way of walking and being, the affection that they can give in exchange for respect… all this means that today we can enjoy several poems about cats.

If you like to read, and above all, if you like to read beautiful things about these felines, then I am going to tell you which are the unforgettable ones poems about cats.

Throughout the history of people and cats there have been several humans who have embodied in their lyrics a pure love for furry animals. To this day, there is the odd theory that says that small cats are the ideal friend for writers, because they are beautiful, silent, and excellent companions for life.

This is well known by the authors of these poems:

Charles Baudelaire - The Cat

In my brain it walks,
Like at home,
A cute cat, strong, sweet and warm.
When he meows, you can barely hear him,

So tender and discreet is its timbre;
No matter how your voice quiets or rumbles,
It is always rich and deep.
This is its warmth and its secret.

That voice, that gushes out and seeps
In my darkest funds,
It fills me up like a numerous verse
And it rejoices me like a love potion.

She attenuates the cruelest evils
And it stops all the ecstasies;
To say the longest sentences,
You don't need words.

No, he is not the violin, instrument
perfect, that bites my heart,
but it does, more royally,
Sound your most vibrant string

May your voice, mysterious cat,
Seraphic cat, strange cat,
In whom everything is, as in an angel,
As subtle as it is harmonious.

Jorge Luis Borges - To a cat

The mirrors are no more silent
nor more furtive the adventurous dawn;
you are, under the moon, that panther
that it is given us to see from afar.
By indecipherable work of a decree
divine, we seek you in vain;
more remote than the Ganges and the west,
yours is the loneliness, yours the secret.
Your back condescends to the defaulter
caress my hand. You have admitted,
from that eternity that is already oblivion,
the love of the suspicious hand.
In another time you are. You are the owner
of a closed environment like a dream.

And this is mine

I would leave everything to see you again,
for being able to enjoy your presence,
for hearing your sweet voice again.

I never imagined that the dark
would become our enemy,
in the guilty of a betrayal
that tore your soul with his hands.

The flowers, once proud,
tears of blood cry
for your lost youth.

(In memory of Blacky, a cat who disappeared in 2015 at the age of two.)

What do you think? 🙂