If you truly love cats then you must love the poetry of T.S. ELLIOTT that inspired the Broadway production of cats.

Please post your favorite poem here.

The Rum Tum Tugger

The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.
If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,
If you put him in a flat then he´d rather have a house.
If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,
If you set him on a rat then he´d rather chase a mouse.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn´t any call for me to shout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there´s no doing anything about it!

The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore:
When you let him in, then he wants to be out;
He´s always on the wrong side of every door,
And as soon as he´s at home, then he´d like to get about.
He likes to lie in the bureau drawer,
But he makes such a fuss if he can´t get out.

Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn´t any use for you to doubt it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there´s no doing anything about it!

The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast:
His disobliging ways are a matter of habit.
If you offer him fish then he always wants a feast;
When there isn´t any fish then he won´t eat rabbit.
If you offer him cream then he sniffs and sneers,
For he only likes what he finds for himself;

So you´ll catch him in it right up to the ears,
If you put it away on the larder shelf.
The Rum Tum Tugger is artful and knowing,
The Rum Tum Tugger doesn´t care for a cuddle;
But he´ll leap on your lap in the middle of your sewing,
For there´s nothing he enjoys like a horrible muddle.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn´t any need for me to spout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there´s no doing anything about it!

T. S. Elliot
...of course, I have renamed this poem...Rum Tum Tigger as it suits Tigger perfectly.

I have a Gumby Cat in mind
her name is Jennyannydots
She sits and sits and sits and sits
And that´s what makes a Gumby Cat.

(any guesses as to who my Gumby Cat is?)

MR MISTOFFELEES



You ought to know Mr Mistoffelees
The original Conjuring Cat --
(There can be no doubt about that).
Please listen to me and don´t scoof. All this
Inventions are off his own bat.

There´s no such Cat in the metropolis;
He holds all the patent monopolies
For performing surprising illusions
And creating eccentric confusions.
At prestidigitation
And at legerdemain
He´ll defy examination
And deceive you again.

The greatest magicians have something to learn
From Mr Mistoffelees´ Conjuring Turn.
Presto!
Away we go!
And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr Mistoffelees!

He is quiet and small, he is black
From his ears to the tip of his tail;
He can creep through the tiniest crack
He can walk on the narrowest rail.
He can pick any card from pack,
He is equally cunning with dice;
He is always deceiving you into believing
That he´s only hunting for mice.

He can play any trick with a cork
Or a spoon and a bit of fish-paste;
If you look for a knife or a fork
And you think it is merely misplaced --
You have seen it one moment, and than it is gawn!
But you´ll find it next week lying out on the lawn.
And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr Mistoffelees!

His manner is vague and aloof,
You would think there wes nobody shyer --
But his voice has been heard on the roof
When he was curled up by the fire.
And he´s sometimes been heard by the fire.
When he was about on the roof --
(At least we all heard somebody who purred)

Which is incontestable proof
Of his singular magical powers:
And I have known the family to call
Him in from the garden for hours,
While he was asleep in the hall.
And not long ago this phenomenal Cat
Produced seven kittens right out of a hat!

And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Did you ever
Know a Cat so clever
As Magical Mr Mistoffelees!

: Old Possum´s Book of Practical Cats (1939) :

MUNGOJERRIE AND RUMPELTEAZER



Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a very notorious couple of cats.
As knockabout clowns, quick-change comedians, tight-rope walkers and acrobats
They had an extensive reputation. They made their home in Victoria Grove --
That was merely their centre of operations, for they were incurably given to rove.
They were very well known in Cornwall Gardens, in Launceston Place and in Kensington Square --
They had really little more reputation than a couple of cats can very well bear.

If the area window was found ajar
And the basement looked like a field of war,
If a tile or two came loose on the roof,
Which presently ceased to be waterproof,
If the drawers were pulled out from the bedroom chests,
And you couldn´t find one of your winter vests,
Or after supper one of the girls
Suddenly missed her Woolworth pearls:
Then the family would say: ´It´s that horrible cat!
It was Mungojerrie -- or Rumpelteazer!´ -- And most of the time they left it at that.

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a very unusual gift of the gab.
They were highly efficient cat-burglars as well, and remarkably smart at a smash-and-grab.
They made their home in Victoria Grove. Thay had no regular occupation.
They were plausible fellows, and liked to engaged a friendly policeman in conversation.

When the family assembled for Sunday dinner,
With their minds made up that they wouldn´t get thinner
On Argentine joint, potatoes and greens,
And the cook would appear from behind the scenes
And say in a voice that was broken with sorrow:
´I´m afraid you must wait and have dinner tomorrow!
For the joint has gone from the oven -- like that!´
Then the family would say: ´It´s that horrible cat!
It was Mungojerrie -- or Rumpelteazer!´ -- And most of the time they left it at that.

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a wonderful way of working tohether.
And some of the time you would say it was luck, and some of the time you would say it was weather.
They would go through the house like a hurricane, and no sober person could take his oath
Was it Mungojerrie -- or Rumpelteazer? or you could have sworn that it mightn´t be both?

And when you heard a dining-room smash
Or up from the pantry there came a loud crash
Or down from the library came a loud ping
From a vase which was commoly said to be Ming --
Then the family would say: ´Now which was which cat?
It was Mungojerrie! AND Rumpelteazer!´ -- And there´s nothing at all to be done about that!

: Old Possum´s Book of Practical Cats, 1939 :

Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat

There´s a whisper down the line at 11:39
When the Night Mail´s ready to depart,
Saying ´Skimble where is Skimble has he gone to hunt the thimble?
We must find him or the train can´t start.´
All the guards and all the porters and the stationmaster´s daughters
They are searching high and low,
Saying ´Skimble where is Skimble for unless he´s very nimble
Then the Night Mail just can´t go.´
At 11:42 then the signal´s nearly due
And the passengers are frantic to a man -
Then Skimble will appear and he´ll saunter to the rear:
He´s been busy in the luggage van!
He gives one flash of his glass-green eyes
And the signal goes ´All Clear!´
And we´re off at last for the northern part
Of the Northern Hemisphere!

You may say that by and large it is Skimble who´s in charge
Of the Sleeping Car Express.
From the driver and the guards to the bagmen playing cards
He will supervise them all, more or less.
Down the corridor he paces and examines all the faces
Of the travellers in the First and in the Third;
He establishes control by a regular patrol
And he´d know at once if anything occurred.
He will watch you without winking and he sees what you are thinking
And it´s certain that he doesn´t approve
Of hilarity and riot, so the folk are very quiet
When Skimble is about and on them ove.
You can play no pranks with Skimbleshanks!
He´s a Cat that cannot be ignored;
So nothing goes wrong on the Northern Mail
When Skimbleshanks is aboard.

Oh it´s very pleasant when you have found your little den
With your name written up on the door.
And the berth is very neat with a newly folded sheet
And there´s not a speck of dust on the floor.
There is every sort of light - you can make it dark or bright;
There´s a button that you turn to make a breeze.
There´s a funny little basin you´re supposed to wash your face in
And a crank to shut the window if you sneeze.
Then the guard looks in politely and will ask you very brightly
´Do you like your morning tea weak or strong?´
But Skimble´s just behind him and was ready to remind him,
For Skimble won´t let anything go wrong.
And when you creep into your cosy berth
And pull up the counterpane,
You are bound to admit that it´s very nice
To know that you won´t be bothered by mice -
You can leave all that to the Railway Cat,
The Cat of the Railway Train!

In the middle of the night he is always fresh and bright;
Every now and then he has a cup of tea
With perhaps a drop of Scotch while he´s keeping on the watch,
Only stopping here and there to catch a flea.
You were fast asleep at Crewe and so you never knew
That he was walking up and down the station;
You were sleeping all the while he was busy at Carlisle,
Where he greets the stationmaster with elation.
But you saw him at Dumfries, where he summons the police
If there´s anything they ought to know about:
When you get to Gallowgate there you do not have to wait -
For Skimbleshanks will help you to get out!
He gives you a wave of his long brown tail
Which says: ´I´ll see you again!
You´ll meet without fail on the Midnight Mail
The Cat of the Railway Train.´

~ T.S. Eliot ~

Piper, who is usually Jennyannydots, has been being a Rum Tum Tugger of late. At least she´s not a MungoJerrie or RumpleTeazer! JC

I have to say that "Cats" blew me away!!!! It was fantastic and if you havn´t seen it YOU MUST!

Well, Cats blew me away the first and second times, when I saw them with a professional troupe, but the last time I saw them it was semi-professional, and it was way too ambitious for the group that was doing it. So make sure you get a *good* version of it. The semi-pro was the first version of Cats hubby had ever seen, and it was "okay" for me because I´d seen it before - but Grizabella didn´t have the power, Rum Tum Tugger wasn´t at all sexy - and hubby had trouble keeping up and following what the point of it all was. (he does like linear story lines, and this was not that - but if it had been well performed it might have made up for it.) I was able to enjoy it by reminiscing on the superior shows I´d seen previously.

The Song of the Jellicles

Jellicle Cats come out to-night
Jellicle Cats come one come all:
The Jellicle Moon is shining bright -
Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball.

Jellicle Cats are black and white,
Jellicle Cats are rather small;
Jellicle Cats are merry and bright,
And pleasant to hear when they caterwaul.
Jellicle Cats have cheerful faces,
Jellicle Cats have bright black eyes;
They like to practise their airs and graces
And wait for the Jellicle Moon to rise.

Jellicle Cats develop slowly,
Jellicle Cats are not too big;
Jellicle Cats are roly-poly,
They know how to dance a gavotte and a jig.
Until the Jellicle Moon appears
They make their toilette and take their repose:
Jellicle Cats wash behind their ears,
Jellicle dry between their toes.

Jellicle Cats are white and black,
Jellicle Cats are of moderate size;
Jellicle Cats jump like a jumping-jack,
Jellicle Cats have moonlit eyes.
They´re quitet enough in the morning hours,
They´re quitet enough in the afternoon,
Reserving their terpsichorean powers
To dance by the light of the Jellicle Moon.

Jellicle Cats are black and white,
Jellicle Cats (as I said) are small;
If it happends to be a stormy night
They will practise a caper or two in the hall.
If it happens the sun is shining bright
You would say they had nothing to do at all:
They are resting and saving themselves to be right
For the Jellicle Moon and the Jellicle Ball.

~ T.S. Eliot ~

Grizabella the Glamour Cat - makes me cry every time - but it´s based on:

Rhapsody on a Windy Night

Twelve o´clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

Half-past one,
The street-lamp sputtered,
The street-lamp muttered,
The street-lamp said, "Regard that woman
Who hesitates toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
You see the border of her dress
Is torn and stained with sand,
And you see the corner of her eye
Twists like a crooked pin."

The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.

Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter."
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay.
I could see nothing behind that child´s eye.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.

Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp muttered in the dark.
The lamp hummed:
"Regard the moon,
La lune ne garde aucune rancune,
She winks a feeble eye,
She smiles into corners.
She smoothes the hair of the grass.
The moon has lost her memory.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and eau de Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain."
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets,
And female smells in shuttered rooms,
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.

The lamp said,
"Four o´clock,
Here is the number on the door.
Memory!
You have the key,
The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair.
Mount.
The bed is open, the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,
Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life."

The last twist of the knife - TS Eliot

Grizabella the Glamour Cat - makes me cry every time - but it´s based on:

The last twist of the knife - TS Eliot


How deep... read this poet over and over again..

TS Eliot is a fave of mine (And Akasha´s- she loves listening to him reading his poetry on CD)- I was really suprised by his voice when I first heard it- quite monotone- (esp. reading the Waste Land- but I guess it is entirely appropriate!!)- I love the timbre of Dylan Thomas´ voice- now there´s a character- ´Captain Cat´ from Under Milkwood!
Anyawy here´s a great passage (from Prufrock):

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.