A Cat's Last Emily (Emily's Last Cat)

by TerryWalstrom 7 Replies latest jw friends

  • TerryWalstrom

    A CAT'S LAST EMILY (Emily's last cat)

    Lifting her elbow up off of her cat

    Emily whispered,

    "Now, where is my hat?"

    Barefoot she tiptoed embarrassed how late

    she'd be for the Metro, then shrugged, "Such is fate."

    Older is slower and patience is best

    There's no sense in rushing, the long game is best

    A gentleman's waiting is proof of desire

    Winter is calling and passion is fire

    Emily, wrapped in her ermine and pearls

    long ago best of the Paris street girls,

    Met her first sailor and right from the start

    Lost both her innocence and most of her heart

    Life, silly sad game of both give and take;

    Losing a lover and lying awake

    Cling to sad memories old songs tear apart

    He's an old photo and love's an old art

    Emily, slow now and barely alive,

    reckons this winter is one to survive

    Beauty's illusions work best in the dark

    She's the magician to kindle that spark

    Money is money and dreams are for fools

    Actresses’ practices break all the rules

    Pocket her money, take off her hat

    A little of this (and a whole lot of that)

    Snowfall comes early, the Metro is late

    Shivering Emily is down by the gate

    Reach for his photo and manage one tear

    Darkness moves closer and closes the year.

    Somewhere an ambulance wails in the dark

    Neighbors awake at a dog's plaintive bark

    None but the cat at the top of the stairs

    Senses her passing much less even cares

    Closing her eyes the last starlight fell

    on Emily's story with no one to tell

    Somewhere a sailor startles awake

    Clasping his chest at a sudden heartbreak.

    ____ Image result for woodcut of cat in old lady's lap


    (The landlord sits reading by her window at night

    In her lap sit a book, a new cat block's her light

    No longer lonely with this grateful Le Chat

    A cat she names "Emily" ( Emily's last cat.)


  • Biahi

    Terry, your writing is amazing and wonderful!

  • Diogenesister

    My god. Did you really write that Terry? You just tore my heart out...

    I'm astounded. You must be published. Links?

  • TerryWalstrom

    Thanks for the encouraging words.
    It was early this morning when a short phrase worked its way into my head.
    It interested me for some strange reason. It had a kind of lilt to it and was suggestive of an idea. "Lifting her elbow up off of her cat" was all I had.
    I had no idea where it would take me. So, what I did was select a piece of very evocative music to play through my earphones that would impel me to write in a stream of consciousness. The music was Emmanuel by Michael Colombier and played by Chris Botti.

    The rest happened organically right down to the last stanza when I got stuck. I wanted it to end the same way it began; melancholy but happy. But no--the music had its way and poor Emily never made it back up the stairs.

    I've been told this was a bit on the dark and side side--so--I've been moved to write a brief epilogue:

    (The landlord sits reading by her window at night
    In her lap sits a book, a new cat block's the light
    No longer lonely with this grateful Le Chat
    The cat she names "Emily" ( Emily's last cat.)

  • SnakesInTheTower

    Terry, that really is beautiful writing.

    Snakes (Rich...only dreams of being a writer)

  • Diogenesister

    I imagine you standing on that stage reciting the poem, as the music plays.....or a jazz singer sings the lyrics. Exquisite pain...

  • TerryWalstrom

    Thank you.

    I woke this morning missing my old friend, Quincy. We were JW's together since the age of 13. He died two years ago and the sound of my phone not ringing is the saddest sound of all.


    If willows had wings and wasps could sing
    If flurries of snowfall were blue
    The roar of the Nile and its proud crocodiles
    Would carry me back home to you

    If pennies were time, I’d buy for a dime
    An echo of you for a day
    And then I could tell the old wishing well
    To carry me back home to you

    The wind comes along just to whisper your song
    Then turns out its pockets for me
    That broken old moon has spoken and soon
    Will carry me back home to you

    If death had no sting every church bell would ring
    If tears made a sound in the night
    The angels could listen and thunder would glisten
    And carry me back home to you

    Time spins to an end and I’ll find you, old friend
    A beautiful lie must be true
    IF it rains pennies fall and we'll pay one and all
    When they carry me back home to you

    (In Memory of my friend Quincy Roberts)

    Image may contain: 2 people, including Terry Edwin Walstrom, people smiling, people standing and hat

  • TerryWalstrom

    Diogenesister: You must be published. Links?

    I've written three books (two on Amazon) and one about to publish.
    Thanks for your interest.

Share this