Warning: Not a HG Poem. Has nothing to do with story, "I Am Lost Without". Proceed with caution - unless you love poetry. Then proceed with a light mood, happy thoughts, and a good sense of humor.
This is a poem I wrote, but one that has absolutely nothing to do with the Hunger Games. Skip it if you want; read it if you want. It's just a funny poem. I have others, more serious poems, still not related to the HG. Just review if you want them or not and if you liked this or not - if enough people say that they didn't like it, I'll take it out. Enjoy!
A newborn cat is given, always,
Nine lives from its birth.
To do with them what they so choose
In their time here on earth.
A kitty once, born orange, striped,
Was foolish with his gifts.
He took each life for granted. So,
He used them up like this:
One night in the cat's first life,
He wanted to go play.
His mama called, "Come back, come back!
You've been out twice today!"
The kitty, disobeying her,
Thought, I've still nine to go,
And if I'm killed, I've eight lives left.
I'll be back soon, e'en though.
He scampered off to the park,
Laughing all the way
At how he'd escaped his mama's grip,
And then ran off to play.
Once at the park, lit by the moon,
He found his favorite tree.
He used his claws as he climbed up,
"The birds fly away!" said he.
The poor, small cat, drunk with joy,
Jumped after them in delight,
But slipped! He fell, and plummeted
Down, into the night.
He hit the ground, so hard and flat,
So high up was the limb,
It's a wonder he didn't lose two lives,
Yet the fall still did kill him.
Then he was rising, looking down
At his body lying there.
But just as soon, he was descending,
'Til his ghost was in line with each hair.
Still eight lives left, he thought with glee
As he ran home to bed.
"You naughty kitty," his mama scolded,
"I've still eight lives," he said.
That same week, in his second life,
His friend said, "I know a game.
You run across the road and see
How many lives remain."
Seven's still a reasonable number,
The kitty thought, content,
So the two ran off to the concrete fields
Where the cars zipped by the cement.
His friend ran across and was just fine.
I'll be fine too, he thought.
But he was hit! Run over too,
My mother will be distraught,
But I'll be fine, the kitty thought,
As his ghost rose up, then down.
He scampered off, with his friend,
So they would not be found.
When he got home, his mama made
Him stay home all that day,
But that was a mistake, for,
The kitty snuck out to play.
He had a scheme, so wise, so grand,
The highest stunt to win,
To jump into the river!
Just to see if he could swim.
As he stood on the edge of the bridge,
Watching the humans pass,
The kitty thought, If they had more lives,
They'd be doing this in a flash.
The young cat jumped, but as everyone knows,
All cats hate the water.
He spluttered and struggled, but could not swim,
And when drowned, was not any smarter.
His body washed up on the shore,
His spirit floated back,
He ran off, to dry in the sun, saying,
"Never again will I do that!"
But when he got home that night,
His mama was very mad,
"You need to not waste your lives,
You've already less than I had
When I was a young kitty like you!"
His mama reprimanded him,
"You've only six lives left now,
So don't waste one again!"
"I won't," the kitty promised her,
But, he told a lie
For in a year, he died again,
And he was left with five.
In that next year, he was married
To a beautiful cat, all white
And they had children, five in all,
Who, at first, meowed all night.
The orange kitty, now a father,
Was not any wiser still,
For his lives went down to four
When he rolled down a hill.
His mother, still, could not believe!
How foolish was her boy
Beginning with nine, now down to four
Lives left to enjoy.
Sad, too, his children had
Inherited the gene
That caused him to act recklessly,
Nine to four, and in between.
The cat's example encouraged them,
The trick, the stunt, the thrill;
Some had eight lives left, some seven, six,
Or even lesser still.
The first cat could not understand
Why his mama was so distressed
About how many lives he had,
Until he had none left.
His very last life was closing,
For he was very ill;
His mama lay weeping by his bed
As his body became still.
But just before his final life,
He had another son.
None other had been orange, striped,
All white; except that one.
The cat called all his children 'round
And whispered in their ears,
"Don't cry, my little darlings,
I've still lives if no more years."
Then the cat turned to his mama,
"How many lives have I now?"
His mama cried, "No more, my son!
Before death you must bow."
The cat laid back his head,
He drew a final breath,
"I should have been more careful.
Now I ache; and welcome death."
He uttered no more words
As his spirit rose high
He looked down at his family,
He watched his children cry.
A few days later, in heaven,
The cat looked down to earth,
He saw his final son playing,
Foolish, also, from his birth.
He watched him sneak out, to the park,
He climbed a tree, then fell.
He died, but, "I still have eight lives left!"
He heart the kitten yell.
"No! Do not waste your lives!"
He called to his boys and girls,
But, his son could not hear him
For he was in another world.
"No!" the poor cat wailed and cried,
"I have to warn my son!"
But, his nine lives were over.
Alas, his time was done.
The ending's kinda sad, I know, and I also know that "kinda" is not a word. If you didn't like it, complain in a review. If you loved it or liked it even a smidgen - my favorite word - , praise in a review. Either way, review so I know whether or not to take it out or keep it here. Thanks to all my very dedicated readers! Keep it up!