Analysis of Foggy the Cat



Needing escape from the mournful howls,
The smell of death; the human growls
I grabbed my things and decided to leave
When a soft little paw, snagged my sleeve.

He'd done this before, just a few days ago
His color was fog-mist, with sprinkles of snow
But today he was thinner; like fog after noon
He hadn't been eating; his time would come soon.

The swelling of tears stopped clouding my eyes
He gave me new hope, in a world I despise
Just one of a million cats killed every year...
But they wouldn't get 'Foggy'! He wouldn't die here!

I made up my mind to take this small cat
As soon as I could, and give his life back
From cage to a cuddle; and a promise in his ear...
"You'll just need to spend one last night here".

"I promise tomorrow, I'll come take you home".
I promised him "never will you die alone".
"Starting tomorrow, your life will be great!"
But sometimes 'tomorrow' is one day too late.

Sometimes tomorrow, is one day too late.


Scheme AABB CCDD EEXF XXFF XXGG G
Poetic Form
Metre 100110101 01110101 111101011 101101111 11101101101 11011111011 101111011101 11011011111 0101111011 11111001101 111010111001 111011011011 1111111111 1111101111 1110100010011 111111111 1100111111 11011011101 100111111 1010111111 010111111
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 947
Words 194
Sentences 12
Stanzas 6
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 1
Lines Amount 21
Letters per line (avg) 34
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 120
Words per stanza (avg) 30

About this poem

It's hard not to fall in love with some shelter animals when you're volunteering. And even those who swear to themselves that they will not adopt every animal that touches their heart, will probably find themselves breaking that oath to themselves, every once in awhile. This is a true story about a cat I fell in love with and had planed to adopt. But at that time, the shelter was not 'no kill' and the manager certainly wasn't.. Things have improved since then.

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Submitted by lovingempath on September 27, 2022

Modified on April 24, 2023

1:00 min read
406

Robin Loving

Sometimes the words flow like a murder of crows. They've held my secrets for the past 65-years. And sometimes they repeat them back to me, and laugh. more…

All Robin Loving poems | Robin Loving Books

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