My cat is King of Poetry, who knew?
My scratch he reads, then laughs at all my tries
The greatest poet known sleeps on my shoe

My cat the naughty poet loves to chew
I ask him to explain his ways; he sighs
The greatest poet known chews on my shoe

I asked my cat for secrets to haiku
He purred and rubbed more hair onto my thighs
Trailblazers very rarely leave a clue

My cat in silence writes his best, who knew?
I hide my shoe when quiet times arise
Rage, Rage, against the dying of the shoe

He dreams and rhymes; his lines sometimes slip through
He grins when I attempt to plagiarize
Great poets walk on four and never two

My cat, the King Of Poetry; who knew?
He told me so. I know he never lies
And I write down the rhymes he tells me to
He sorts his thoughts from mine upon review.