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The second
Cat Thursday of each month is
Authors and their Cats Thursday. Today I have an extra special Each time I will feature an author and their cat(s).
Today I have a very special Cat Thursday featuring author Laura Stamps and her delightful book of poetry, Cats, Daffodils and Dragonflies.
The poems in Laura's book are so peaceful and relaxing. It was almost like meditating as I was reading. And the addition of Laura's cats in almost every poem was sheer delight. This is a book I will cherish and go back to again and again. I especially liked how there were poems for every season. I'm going to share some favorites below. Be sure to keep reading to learn more about Laura and to see pics of her cats.
SPRING FEVER
Even as I recover from the
snap, crackle, pop of flame-
tipped tulips in early spring,
millions of nubbly fingers
yellow with pollen grip the
pines, while daffodils,
camellias, and snapdragons
preach the liturgy of color
to winter-weary pansies and
chrysanthemums. My
youngest cat rides the lamp
like a sinking ship, slowly
falling toward my husband
sleeping in his reclining chair,
golf geening the television,
as I peek over the edge of
my book just in time to see.
O that my eye might remain
single, fixed forever on the
timelessness of the eternal:
my truth and my life. Mean-
while, red clover stains the
meadow with its purple smile,
as a Carolina chickadee
slides through the short grass
and crisp air. Look, the
luminous light of the eternal:
here, and here, and there.
EPIPHANY OF JOY
Early evening, the first week
of June, ninety-two degrees,
and I should be working on
my papers, but the cat is
tossing his little mouse in
the air by its tail, then leaping
after it, jumping and tumbling
and entertaining himself
as perfectly as if he were
a squirrel skittering through
the leaf-swirl of the pine-
woods, while I drift along
in the mossy cup of this
moment, captivated by a cat
and his happiness. Sages
say the joy of life exists in
the ever-present eternal, the
only place to tap the sweet
rhythm of the divine. Such
a wondrous way to live, to
lock your mind in the glistening
capsule of the moment,
where the gardenia shudders
in a June breeze, flooding the
evening with the warm music.
CAT DAZE
The clouds today are swift
chalk strokes skipping
across the faux marble of
a cerulean sky, and I am
typing, when the cat that's
always in trouble wobbles
past me, wearing a square
tissue box over her head,
weaving in a world that is
suddenly as murky as the
ebony gloss of a crow. I
twist the box from her neck,
and she gallops across the
hall, her ears swimming with
the slick voice of mischief.
Later, interrupted again, I
turn toward an odd thumping
behind my chair, where my
youngest cat slumps in the
corner, the tissue box planted
on his head, while he bangs
against the wall, a prisoner
in a cardboard cage as
opaque as the petals of a
black pansy. I remove the
box, and he rolls on the floor,
a pilgrim happy to be free,
as relieved as any of us
when we emerge from our
wanderings in the sunless
valley to embrace the
joyous leaf-shine of the light.
CAT PAUSE
A lone bubble escapes
a soapy pond in the sink,
captivating my youngest
cat, as if it were some
alien insect sailing above
the plateau of his nose,
and I know at any moment
I could choose to look
away from dirty dishes
and this cat to the world's
sadness, to the sorrowful
way humans abuse one
another, the grim realities
of depression, anger, fear.
There are critics who wish
I would, condemning the
buoyant water-tumble
of my words, this affinity
for joy, the sweetness.
But then three wrens gather
at the window to discuss
the cornflower jacket
of the sky, the cat bites
the bubble, and I laugh,
thinking it's not so terrible
to choose happiness,
to chase after that which
blesses, whether it's the
wild tangerine of a spotted
lily or blue jays cackling
on the porch. Did Roethke,
Whitman, or Thoreau
every regret the cartwheels
of bird-whistle etching the
hours? For some the quest
for simplicity is enough,
a golden chance to harvest
the tasseled fields of the
moment. To simply notice
the sky sketching cloud-
castles today, to breathe
the gardenia's intoxicating
smile, to marvel at soap
bubbles whirling in the
kitchen with the cat, to
dance, to dance, to dance.
I'LL NEVER FORGET
that balmy day in August,
only an hour after sunrise,
when I opened the curtains
in the kitchen to watch a cat
rolling the black raft of her
body in wild grass, and
suddenly the skitter of four
tiny paws dashed out from
beneath the porch, and
then four more, both kittens
tumbling over their mother
like tawny leaves surfing
an autumn breeze, each a
calico tabby, mirror images
of a feral male lingering in
the neighborhood since last
winter, and it was there, while
standing beside the stove,
the sun painting the pinewoods
with a dandelion glaze, that
I realized I'd been adopted
by a new family of strays.
About the author:
Laura Stamps is a Wiccan Witch, Seelie Fey, and a Fey sorceress twirling joyfully on pink wings. Weeeeee! Bestselling author of Pagan paranormal novels (most are erotic, two are not). 55 books published in 25 years (sexy romantic vampires, witches, Fey). Her short stories and poetry have appeared in over 1000 literary journals and anthologies worldwide. Her work has received numerous awards, including a “Pulitzer Prize” nomination and seven “Pushcart” award nominations. All Laura’s novels are very positive and contain real Pagan spells, chants, or rituals. She lives in South Carolina with her two husbands and seven cats and has been involved in feral cat rescue for 30+ years. “Cats, Daffodils & Dragonflies” features 18 years of published literary poetry chronicling her gardening and cat adventures!
Laura's kitties! Such cuties...and black kitties...my favorite!
Miss Cherry in bandana
Laura's cat herd
Gardenia
Visit Laura:
WEBSITE |
AUTHOR PAGE |
LINKED IN |
TUMBLR
Get your copy of
Cats, Daffodils & Dragonflies for Kindle at
AMAZON
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A e-copy of this book was provided to me in exchange for an honest review. I was not monetarily compensated for providing it.