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| The Philosopher Cat | |
  Listen to the Poet Read |
You'll find him sitting in the sun, or in his basket, thinking, For hours he'll stay and contemplate, his golden eyes unblinking; No Plato, Jung, or Sigmund Freud, Karl Marx, or Bertrand Russell Can match this wise and thinking cat for philosophic muscle. One could be attempted to assume this cat is simply dreaming, As warming rays of autumn sun upon his back are streaming. But that would be a big mistake, a fanciful illusion; He's finding to some problem deep a rational conclusion. He has a string of questions solved, he is immensely clever, But needs a break occasionally from this intense endeavour; He'll stretch a paw, and raise his head, then stroll with air Socratic Into the house and order food, in manner autocratic. When satisfied, he then returns, his study to continue; He's not at rest, he's working hard, he's straining ever sinew, As there he sits amongst the leaves beneath the flowering wattle, Pondering life's deeper things, this feline Aristotle.
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Web of Poets | Philip Rush | Poetry | Bibliography | A Note for the Reader | Copyright | Web Sites | |
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