Feline Feral Poetry Collection: Brave Lines, #3

By Blake Pieck

101 Poems related to Feline Ferals.

"A Feral Feline Poetry Collection" comprises 101 mesmerizing poems that delve into the heart of the urban wilderness through the eyes of its most enigmatic inhabitants: the feral cats. This collection weaves a rich tapestry of narratives that illuminate the lives of these silent witnesses to humanity's hustle, casting a spotlight on their unseen struggles, their quiet dignity, and their unyielding resilience.

Each poem serves as a window into the soul of the feral feline, exploring themes of survival, freedom, and the poignant beauty found in the margins of society. From the dance of the discreet under the moon's watchful eye to the silent symphonies played out in the empty lots and alleyways of the city, this collection pays homage to the untamed spirits that roam the concrete jungles.

Crafted with care and deep respect for its subjects, this collection is an ode to the legacy of the lone, the chorus of the castaways, and the luminous outcasts who navigate the urban sprawl. 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blake Pieck
• Release date: Feb 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224466306

Book preview

Shadows of the City

In the city's heart, where shadows fall and rise,

Wanders a feline specter, under the moonlit skies.

Her coat, a cloak of ebony, melds with the night,

A ghostly presence, moving silent, out of sight.

Her path is lit by streetlights, dim and sparse,

Each step a gamble, each moment a farce.

Through the urban maze, she deftly weaves,

Amongst the forgotten, where the lost grieve.

Hunting for sustenance in bins overflowed,

Dodging the dangers where the headlights glowed.

A nightly ballet, performed on concrete stages,

A struggle for life, through countless ages.

Past alleys and byways, she makes her claim,

No map nor compass, yet forward the same.

Her eyes, like jewels, pierce the veil of dark,

Guided by instinct, by an inner spark.

The city's cacophony, a backdrop to her quest,

In the quiet spaces, she briefly rests.

Her heart beats a rhythm of resilience and will,

In the sprawling metropolis, quiet and still.

Not just a survivor, but a master of her fate,

Adapting to challenges, both small and great.

In the dance of shadows, she finds her way,

A testament to life, at the break of day.

Her journey, a saga of silent defiance,

In her, a universe of untamed reliance.

Through the labyrinth of streets, she roams free,

A spirit of the city, wild and unsee.

So, through the night, she continues to stride,

A symbol of survival, in whom we confide.

In the shadows of the city, her story unfolds,

A tale of resilience, a narrative bold.

Eyes in the Dark

In the velvet cloak of night, where secrets dwell,

There lies a silent witness, with tales to tell.

Eyes in the dark, glowing embers of light,

Observing the world, hidden from sight.

They see the dance of leaves, in the whispering wind,

The hustle of nocturnal life, where dreams are pinned.

Guardians of the shadows, silent and stark,

Moving like whispers, in the enveloping dark.

These eyes, they watch, and they understand,

The rhythms of the city, the lay of the land.

Unseen they remain, yet see all that unfolds,

In the cover of night, where mystery holds.

Through abandoned alleys, over moonlit walls,

Their presence is felt, where the darkness calls.

In the stillness, they're the movement that you sense,

The silent watchers, in tense suspense.

Not just observers, but participants too,

In the night's quiet drama, they play their cue.

With each careful step, each calculated move,

They navigate the night, in grooves.

Their eyes, a reflection of the world unseen,

Capturing moments, where the daylight has been.

In their gaze, a world untold,

Of survival, of stories bold.

So, next time you walk, under the night's vast dome,

Remember the eyes that watch, the night their home.

For in the darkness, they hold sway,

The feral watchers, until the break of day.

Forgotten Whiskers

In the twilight of years, under skies vast and clear,

Sits an elder feline, with memories dear.

Forgotten whiskers, graced with frost,

Reflecting on the life she's lost.

Once a sprightly shadow, in the night's embrace,

Now time etches wisdom on her face.

Seasons have turned, from warmth to chill,

Yet, she remains, a testament of will.

Her eyes, deep pools of lived lore,

Witness to a world, of both less and more.

She's felt the caress of gentle hands,

And the harshness in life's shifting sands.

With every leaf that falls, she sees,

The cycle of life, in the trees.

A reminder of the transient dance of days,

In her heart, where the echo of youth plays.

She's known the kindness, soft and rare,

From those who've shown, they truly care.

A scrap of food, a whispered word,

In such moments, her spirit stirred.

Yet, not all hands were kind, she knew,

Cruelty, too, in the world, it grew.

But from each encounter, she learned to thrive,

In the face of adversity, to survive.

Around her, the world has changed,

Yet her essence, remains unestranged.

Through the changing seasons, she's roamed,

In the alleyways, she's called home.

Now, as the evening of life draws near,

She reflects, without a tear.

For in her journey, through pain and bliss,

She's found a quiet kind of peace.

Forgotten whiskers, but not by time,

For in her silence, there's a chime.

A narrative of resilience, in her gaze,

A legacy, through the haze.

In her, the story of life unfolds,

A tale of survival, brave and bold.

Though her whiskers may be forgotten,

Her spirit, ageless and unrotten.

The Colony's Creed

In the hidden corners of the world we tread,

A feral colony, by unseen threads led.

Bound not by walls, but by the creed we share,

A pact of survival, in the open air.

We are shadows that flicker, in the fading light,

A whispering presence, in the cloak of night.

Together we stand, in solidarity and grace,

A clandestine assembly, in the human race's chase.

Our struggles are many, as we roam and fend,

For food, for shelter, on which we depend.

Yet, in each other, strength we find,

A collective will, intertwined.

The bonds that tie us, unseen but strong,

In the silent language, of the night's song.

We communicate, with glance and gesture,

In our world, there's no need for lecture.

The unwritten rules, we all abide,

In the colony's creed, we take pride.

To share in the bounty, to protect our kin,

To warn of dangers, from within and wherein.

We nurture our young, teach them the ways,

Of the night's shadows, in the sun's rays.

To navigate the world, with caution and stealth,

To value the colony, over individual wealth.

Our lives are a tapestry, of pain and of beauty,

Surviving in the margins, is our unwavering duty.

Yet amidst the hardship, there's a profound trust,

In the colony's creed, in the dust.

We are more than the sum, of our solitary parts,

Together we heal our individual hearts.

For in the creed of the colony, we find our might,

In the shared journey, through the night.

So, hear our story, take heed of our creed,

We, the feral colony, in the shadows we lead.

A life of struggle, of bonds tight-knit,

In the world's margins, we boldly sit.

Grit and Grace

In the heart of the forgotten, where the wild things grow,

Lives a mother cat, with a love that overflows.

Her fur, a tapestry of life's rough embrace,

Yet her eyes, a well of kindness, filled with grace.

Her world, a battleground, where each day is a fight,

To feed her young, to protect them through the night.

With grit and grace, she faces every threat,

Teaching her kittens, without regret.

She shows them the ways of shadow and light,

How to move in silence, under the cloak of night.

To find the whispers of warmth, in the cold's harsh bite,

And to never lose hope, in the darkest plight.

Her lessons are many, in the art of survival,

Instilling in them, the instincts for revival.

To read the signs, in the wind and the rain,

To find shelter from danger, to navigate pain.

She leads them through alleys, under the moon's soft glow,

Teaching them to listen, to watch, to know.

That though the world may not want them, they have each other,

In their bond, they find strength, from one to another.

Her love is a fortress, against the world's disdain,

Her spirit, a beacon, through loss and through gain.

With every purr and paw, she writes their story,

One of grit and grace, of quiet glory.

For in her heart, she