Mittens The Great

Sir, I was a Poet.

Don’t babble at me in that sing-song way.

In a former life, I was renowned.

Bold men wept openly at the beauty of my ballads.

I distilled the truth of the human soul into purest verse-

Why do you belittle me so?

Sir, I know the meaning of life.

Please remove your oafish fingers from my face.

I gazed into the Heavens and found answers known to none,

I have studied the Akashic records and the nature of God.

I was the counselor to Kings, Pharaohs, Emperors!

No, I would not “like a tummy rub.”

Sir, I was a General.

Your swift demise would be no trouble.

But not for me, Rome would have been a mere village.

I have turned peasants and nomads into soldiers, then conquered nations.

I have toppled dynasties and struck terror into countless hearts-

I do not want a catnip mousie.

Sir, you disgrace me.

I have tried in vain to share the wisdom of my many lives.

My midnight performances have been interrupted by projectile shoes,

My dissertations met with baby-talk.

You admonish my strategic sofa carvings to guide you through my home-

Still, I allow you to remain my faithful servant...

Now please stop belly-aching

About the bite marks on your hand,

For I have much to contemplate.