metempsychotic

This year, I’m writing poetry for every word tasting in November. I’m calling it Povember. Today, rhyming triplets as in the Dies Irae, using words suggested by friends from Twitter: @sarathegood, @theoriginaledi, @Editor_Clark, @grammartable, @amateurdancer, @CurmudgeonChief, @jennie1ofmany, and @CollinsMandy.

day of danger, day of moggy
better kitty than a doggie
when the light of life grows foggy

when the texture turns quixotic
when the twitching tail’s hypnotic
nine times ply metempsychotic

come for cat and come for kitten
scratch the post where it is written
never shy though eight times bitten

when the volume’s at eleven
as you play stairway to heaven
reaper whispers “number seven”

lacking motive, leaping, flying
airtime, hangtime, lifetime buying
six more tickets for the dying

be you saint or be you sinner
seek you sex or seek you dinner
five times still your chance gets thinner

lost in moor or forest frolic,
cursed with polyp, cramped with colic
four shots left, you deathaholic

when you’re stuck and stuff turns sucky
wickets sticky, succor mucky
thrice it rests you to get lucky

when the trumpet plays crescendo
on the death tune from Nintendo
two turns yet you’ll meet your endo

now you’re basking in the sunlight
sorry, kitty, here’s your done light
vacuum sucked you to the one light

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