Olive
Shmolive, shmolive, is an Olive.
She is very wise.
To the dog though she always lies.
She is very scary and I would call her hairy.
She is a naughty cat, although I would never tell her that.
She is weird in her own ways, she could meow at the birds outside for days.
She is a mysterious cat, there’s no doubt about that.
She is funny in her own ways.
If she told a joke I would be laughing for days.
The dog thinks she’s silly, I think we should have named her Billy.
When she bats at the plants, she is a pest.
My parents patience she sure does test.
When she plays she tends to get rough,
For some reason I cannot get enough.
She bites, I bleed,
For her warning I never heed.
Her legs out front are too short, she runs like an armadillo,
When she tires, she lays and purrs upon my mom’s pillow.
We love her more with each passing day,
She is special in her own way.
You have used some strong work choice which is important when writing poetry!
Thank you!!!
This is AWESOME!! After reading this, I totally want to meet Olive one day!
cool poem!