I Saw a Cat

For Day 7 of NaPoWriMo, I followed a prompt to write a poem similar to a song from a clapping game. My poem is inspired by the song "Miss Mary Mack," which I used to clap to with friends when I was a kid. 

 

I Saw a Cat
By Candace Shultz

I saw a cat, cat, cat
That was all black, black, black
With a tiny spider, spider, spider
Crawling on her back, back, back.

She felt a tickle, tickle, tickle
Within her fur, fur, fur
So she licked the spider, spider, spider
And began to purr, purr, purr.

The spider was scared, scared, scared
When it was snared, snared, snared
Inside the mouth of the cat, cat, cat.
The spider had erred, erred, erred.

Cat Greetings

Today's poem is inspired by a prompt to use a casual, conversational tone with at least one thing that would happen in a dream. A cat speaking in human words counts as something that would happen in a dream, right? 

 

Cat Greetings
By Candace Shultz

I open the door
and the first thing I see
is my cat sitting on the stairs
greeting me. "Welcome home!"
she says to me. "Hello kitty.
Were you waiting for me?"
I scratch her on the ears
and she trails behind me
like a shadow attached to my feet, 
talking to me the entire time
while I set down my purse, 
my water bottle, my phone.
I walk towards the bathroom,
and I close the door behind me,
and she reaches under the door
with her little paws, crying out
"Mom!" like a toddler child
who can't bear to be apart
from her mom for even a moment.
When I leave the bathroom,
she runs around me excitedly
until I finally settle in the rocker
in the living room, and then she
curls in a ball in my lap, cuddling me
as I rock us gently back and forth,
and the house becomes quiet
as we both close our eyes,
letting the gentle sway of the rocker
lead us into a slumber of dreams.

 

Canned Spinach

For Day 5 of NaPoWriMo, I followed a prompt to write about something I dislike, and to be over dramatic if I want. So I decided to write about canned spinach, which I really dislike. Seriously, why change a perfectly good fresh spinach leaf into a canned, stringy, slimy, unrecognizable leaf? Here is my poem:

Canned Spinach
By Candace Shultz 

I hate canned spinach.
It has ruined the color green
With its slimy taste and texture
And unappealing appearance.
I believe it is an unknown substance,
So bitter and gross that it makes
Me want to vomit in my mouth,
Which makes it that much worse to eat.
If you put some slimy spinach on my plate,
My blood will boil and the spinach will fly,
And I will watch as it trails down your face
Like a snail secreting mucus as it slides.

 

 

* Author's note: I wouldn't truly throw canned spinach at someone, but I definitely won't eat it (I've already eaten it before a few times. I never want to eat it again.).

Drip Drip Drop

Today's poem is about an aspect of weather, while using rhyme and lines of relatively even length.  

Drip Drip Drop
By Candace Shultz

In the distance, I can hear thunder rumble,
Which makes my son begin to grumble.
He hates it when the storms begin.
It makes him tremble from within.
God is just bowling, I sometimes say
As the clouds in the sky begin to gray.
The rain pitter patters on our roof above
And the wind blows harder without love,
So I sing a little song to calm my son down:
Drip drip drop, rain is falling on our town.
Drip drip drop, rain is falling on my head.
Drip drip drop, rain is falling on my bed.
Drip drip drop, my son sings too,
And just like that, the sky is blue.

Where did the day go? - a haiku

Today's poem is short and sweet: a haiku. 

I woke to the light

Shining through my window, then

I blinked. Now it's night.

Memories

This poem is for Day 2 of NaPoWriMo. 

Memories
By Candace Shultz 

I reach for a memory:
Laughing with friends,
Running through the sand,
The sun shining on my face,
My skin reddened from ultraviolet rays.

But the memory fades
Like sand sifting between my fingertips.

When I was young, I never thought to
Grasp onto those memories,
Never imagined bright, sunny days
Turning into hazy afternoons
Casting shadows on my memories. 

Even though my young self seems far away,
I still find her in the mirror,
Her eyes crinkled with the laughter
From a life fulfilled.

I Worry - a tanka

Today is Day 1 of NaPoWriMo 2026, and I wrote a tanka, as prompted by https://www.napowrimo.net/go/.

I Worry
By Candace Shultz

Shadows whisper in
between the dark spaces of
one thought to the next. 
I reach for rays of hope as
worries delve deep in my mind.