A little poem about Mr. Cho.
A lovely black cat
Lives inside this house.
He’s fourteen years old
Middle age for cats.
He keeps his cushion
Beside the fireplace
And every handbag
Is good for a nap.
He has seen a lot.
His walnut sized brain
Thankfully cannot
Reproduce these things.
Published by Stephen McGlennon
Who knows where this will go, if anywhere at all.
This is now just going to be the blog of a 48 year old GenX cishet fella from the North of Ireland/Northern Ireland/Ulster (I don’t care). I’l l keep the waving my fists at clouds to a bare minimum. There’ll be poems and playing cards, opinions and all sorts. Some of it will be an attempt to begin a conversation. I’m tolerant of opposing values and opinions to a point. I simply won’t countenance thoughtlessness, abuse, hate or edge lord trolling nonsense.
I am extending this little corner of t'internet to include other hobbies, passtimes etc. Mediocre poetry, opinionated essays and dreadful watercolours coming your way.
View all posts by Stephen McGlennon
Munkus Bubbly 