This is my poem I wrote,
Inside the carrier the kitten mews,
An orange tabby, he, with sparks of red,
Like a prince, captive amid his palanquin,
Until it reaches it’s destination and he is freed.
Aboard, the kitten looks, thinks and strains,
Hoping to hear a clue when he will be free.
Yet from his porter, no clue is heard.
Within, the kitten paws, scrapes and meows,
Impatient to run free again, uncaged.
Poor kitten. Having to be a Prince…. I think that if I were trapped in a palanquin that I would just sleep. It’s soposed to be fit for a king, right? And arn’t the bearers soposed to be realy smooth. Because being thrown about in a palanquin sounds like not fun.
This is a very nice poem. I enjoyed it greatly. I especially like the part where you say, ” Like a prince, captive amid his palanquin. ” That vocabulary is very good. I also like where you say, ” sparks of red “, for the description of the cat. I liked this post a lot.