Manoeuvres

4 February 2008

Ignore the awestruck roaring of the crowd:
Trajectory laid in—no, missed again.
A pause to lick the paws—so what? I’m proud—
Evaluate—huge pupils—ascertain
The squirming of the string—outflank! contain!
Left hook!—where was I? Routed! Battle won!
I tire. Away. You bore me to disdain.
Wait, don’t pick up the cord. I wasn’t done.
My back feet knead. You watch. This next bit’s fun.
Surprise assault! The fervent foe is cowed!
Wait, whizzing overhead?—kick, bite!—I’ll none
Of that! The rules, you fools, that’s not allowed.
No matter. Triumph crowns my grand campaign:
The treacherous, deceptive shoelace slain.

For Ree. Vespers, Charly and any other cat-lovers may join in too. ;)

Spenserian sonnet again but with even more restricted rhyme scheme, abab bcbc caca bb—I’m sure there’s a proper name for it*. Iambic pentameter again, obviously.

*edit: No, apparently not. Looks like I’m the only one on the web to date (with any combination of spaces). The only one to talk about it, anyway.