Peeking Cat Perspectives – March 2017

Hi all! Here is the first Peeking Cat Perspectives. I’m really excited for this and hope lots of people will join. Here’s how it works:

1. Take a look at the image below and write something inspired about it. It can be a poem, prose, or just a few lines.
2. Submit your writing by commenting on this blog post. All posts are moderated just so that we don’t get any spam, so they might not appear straight away.
3. You might want to avoid looking at other people’s responses before you write your own, so that you’re not influenced by them. We want to get as many diverse pieces of writing as possible!

There is more information about Peeking Cat Perspectives here. I’m interested to see how differently art influences each of us!

2 thoughts on “Peeking Cat Perspectives – March 2017

  1. So here goes, my first 'submission' to Peeking Cat:

    Separated by diamonds…

    of a hard wire fence:
    him on one side,
    you walking away on the other,
    unaware of knuckle-white fear
    and frustration that you’ve left him here,
    alone with his education.
    Behind him, the playground is a blur
    of confidence and familiarity,
    friends and enemies unite
    in their experience.
    The new boy, with sore fingers
    and an aching heart,
    unable to tell friends and enemies apart,
    turns and joins the fray,
    longing for the end of his first school day.

    Kim M. Russell, March 2017

  2. Homing Pigeons

    An urchin
    stands outside the metal cage,
    his feet covered with white
    droppings and feathers.
    Skinny fingers
    try to touch the birds.
    Pigeons with long legs
    push their chests
    so far out
    they fall over backwards.
    They tumble when he
    claps his hands.
    Motherless kid
    watches nesting pigeons
    fluff feathers around
    red, gasping hatchlings.

    No one around.
    Cool, quiet night.
    He opens the cage;
    the pigeons scatter and settle
    on their perches.
    His fingers wiggle and wrap
    around a featherless baby.
    He holds it up
    to the sky.
    Blood oozes out from between
    his desperate fingers.
    Pigeons beat their wings
    against the cage.

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