Green Sparkle Ball

photo of cat with sparkly green ball

Giuseppe and His Green Sparkle Ball

On the subject of poetry and cats, here is a poem I read at my 2009 poetry reading inspired by Giuseppe and all cats at play, and how that relates to my own creative thought and that of all humans.

Cats are pretty intelligent, so I’ve never been able to figure out how they fool themselves into thinking that a little sparkly green ball is an object of prey, especially when they get all carried away and race all over the house, growl at other cats when they come near the catch, and stash it in a safe place when they are done.

I figure it’s a starting point for the imagination, something to follow down the rabbit hole like Alice into a wonderland of discovery.

I have not created a slideshow with a reading of this poem, in part because I didn’t have images I wanted to use to illustrate it and didn’t want to read with a blank screen or just the image of Giuseppe! I decided to go ahead and record it anyway because I wanted to try out another trial software. See below for the link.

GREEN SPARKLE BALL

Loping along, he freezes in mid-stride at the sight of it,
silently flattens himself, tail straight out behind,
ears alert, pupils dilated in amber eyes glowing from black fur,
his whole world centered on his prey,
a little wiggle of the hind end and he creeps forward
one soundless step, then another,
now, completely ready, he springs onto his prey,
a small bright green fuzzy ball with sparkly silver threads poking out all around.

Something about this toy sets off the receptors in Giuseppe’s brain
even though it’s been sitting innocently on the carpet
not moving or making sounds or being in any way provocative,
at the sight of it he’s transformed into the efficient killing machine
which is any feline.

Up into the air goes the green sparkle ball,
he swats, chases, corners it,
a big cat at 18 months, Giuseppe is 13 pounds of dense muscle,
but he picks it up delicately in his teeth and bounds up the stairs two or three at a time,
I hear him galloping around, even hear the bedsprings
as he pursues his prey around the second floor.

I’ve known this cat since he was two days old,
he has never been closer to the outdoors than a screened window,
he has never had to hunt for his dinner
except to find his way to the kitchen.
His mother had no chance to catch some unlucky mouse or chipmunk
and bring it home for an educational demonstration.
Why, then, this activity?

Later, he is sprawled on the bed with his brothers
and I find the green sparkle ball floating in the water bowl;
he does this with his toy, drops it in the bowl when he’s done playing
as if it’s stashed in a place where it can’t escape while he naps
and he can take up where he left off when he awakens.

Cats are not easily fooled.
When you get them a toy that looks like a real mouse
and toss it and push it around then retrieve it yourself,
they watch politely
and when you are done, resume their nap.

This object looks nothing like any prey he might ever chase.
So why is he chasing it?
And why does Cookie play pick-up soccer with a ping-pong ball,
and Kelly leap all around about a scrap of paper,
and the elusive panther caught on motion-sensor camera run after a blowing leaf
and the lion chase his tail?
Surely they see the green sparkle ball for what it is,
or are they so focused on their pretense
that for the concentrated time of play
the toy is convincingly real
and their activity vital?

Do I have a green sparkle ball,
something that relieves me from rational thought
and plunges me wholly into a world
entirely formed of my imagination?
Is that something that humans lost
in the development of rational thought,
our oversized brains finding this process unnecessary,
or is it there beneath our every discovery,
guiding our creative efforts?
When we let our mind play,
our thoughts creating a reality out of the raw materials available,
does that deep focus on the green sparkle ball
pull together seemingly unrelated bits we’ve gathered
and put them in an order we’d never otherwise see?
Did Einstein have a green sparkle ball,
that his thoughts pursued
until it led him to his theory?
Starting the first fire, inventing the wheel,
Proving the world is round, finding a vaccination for smallpox,
Composing a symphony, sculpting the iconic figure,
Creating any device that changes the world around it,
Does it start with chasing the green sparkle ball?

poem © 2009 B.E. Kazmarski

Listen and watch a very slow slideshow

I chose only four images for this four-minute poem, so be patient with the slow transitions! I hope you enjoy them, and the poem. You can find it on YouTube, or click the video link below. (Mlle., the first two minutes are for you.)

________________________

All images used on this site are copyrighted to Bernadette E. Kazmarski unless otherwise noted and may not be used without my written permission. Please ask if you are interested in purchasing one as a print, or to use in a print or internet publication.


Green Sparkle Ball

photo of cat with sparkly green ball

Giuseppe and His Green Sparkle Ball

Cats are pretty intelligent, so I’ve never been able to figure out how they fool themselves into thinking that a little sparkly green ball is an object of prey, especially when they get all carried away and race all over the house, growl at other cats when they come near the catch, and stash it in a safe place when they are done.

“Trust me,” Giuseppe says, “any animal that can get completely freaky over a green sparkle ball is either not very bright or is extremely imaginative—and I dare anyone to say that I’m not too bright!” It turns out that green sparkle ball has a big purpose in Giuseppe’s day.

Out in the wild, cats scratch tree bark, prowl and stalk for hours and kill small animals for food, spray to mark territory, make nests of soft materials to sleep in, use any loose material for a litterbox, spend hours alone and also spend time socializing with other cats, engage in rough play and often fight bitterly.

It turns out that green sparkle ball is somewhat of a substitute for all that feline activity we’d rather they kept outside when then came to live in our houses. It’s important to give cats an outlet for their natural activities for their physical and mental health, and considering that this is Happy Cat Month, feline appropriate toys and activities are on the list of things that keep your cat happy.

I figure it’s a starting point for the imagination, something to follow down the rabbit hole like Alice into a wonderland of discovery. In watching Giuseppe play with his ball as I’ve watched so many other kitties with sisal toys and feathers and paper bags and boxes and rolled up balls of paper, I’ve realized that it’s no different from some of the things I do in pursuit of a creative end for my artwork, especially in writing poetry, to inspire a train of thought that I can chase down neural pathways, toss around and chase some more until I have exhausted its interest for me.

No wonder I get along so well with my cats. I actually wrote a poem about this several years ago; while he pursued his instinctive objective, so did I.

GREEN SPARKLE BALL

Loping along, he freezes in mid-stride at the sight of it,
silently flattens himself, tail straight out behind,
ears alert, pupils dilated in amber eyes glowing from black fur,
his whole world centered on his prey,
a little wiggle of the hind end and he creeps forward
one soundless step, then another,
now, completely ready, he springs onto his prey,
a small bright green fuzzy ball with sparkly silver threads poking out all around.

Something about this toy sets off the receptors in Giuseppe’s brain
even though it’s been sitting innocently on the carpet
not moving or making sounds or being in any way provocative,
at the sight of it he’s transformed into the efficient killing machine
which is any feline.

Up into the air goes the green sparkle ball,
he swats, chases, corners it,
a big cat at 18 months, Giuseppe is 13 pounds of dense muscle,
but he picks it up delicately in his teeth and bounds up the stairs two or three at a time,
I hear him galloping around, even hear the bedsprings
as he pursues his prey around the second floor.

Read the rest of this entry »


A Poem Dedicated to an Old Cat

painting of a gray cat with a pink sweater

A Rosy Glow, pastel © B.E. Kazmarski

Dedicated to the most gentle, loving being I have ever encountered.

Things I Found in the Woods

Tiny rivulets of water released from thawing soil
flowing beneath last year’s debris, trickling and gurgling all around
hurrying down hillsides before the freeze returns.

A cup-shaped fungus holding a tablespoon of snowmelt
for a song sparrow to sip, practicing its vernal melody
for the time when spring arrives in earnest.

Ferns, newly-green, draped on cliffs,
fluttering like garlands in the mild, caressing breeze
gathering a little nourishment to last the rest of the winter.

Fallen trees blanketed with bright green moss,
thick and lush already in the brief January thaw
filling a span of life in but a few days.

Four young white-tailed deer, capricious as the gusts,
feeling the flush of their first spring as adults
cavorting as if winter might not return tomorrow.

An understanding that life and love are cycles,
and that the moment must be taken for what it offers
even if what it offers is not what we expect.

A fraction of your dignity,
and the desire to walk with you to the end of the path
as you transition from this beautiful world into the next.

__________________________________________

black and white photo of gray cat on bricks

Moses on her bricks.

I’ll tell Moses’ full story some day; 19 years of love can’t be condensed easily.

She had been a feral kitten my niece managed to capture, only because Moses was near death from starvation. To everyone’s surprise, she not only lived but thrived, except for her hobbled hind legs—the “knee” joint hadn’t completely finished and the bones kind of knocked against each other.

Just give me good food, no medications, Moses said, but most of all, let me lie in the sun every day. And so I did, indoors or outdoors when I could be with her.

She was healthy and rational until about a month before she died, and she knew what was coming and accepted it; I could see this in her eyes. To appease myself I had her checked by a veterinarian and even emergency when she had breathing difficulty one night. She forgave me for this, and I wrote this poem sitting in the waiting room for them to finish some procedure.

Waiting for Moses

I remembered a moment earlier in the day
even through the fear and pain of your impending death:
in that moment when I reached out to you
and you firmly rubbed your face against my hand,
nuzzled your nose between my finger and thumb
and lifted your chin for me to scratch underneath,
eyes squinting at me, whiskers curved forward, nose crumpled;
you, reassuring me.
The look in your eyes wipes the tears from my face
and I can, for the moment,
spontaneously smile and love you completely as of old,
above our grief.

And just a day or two later I was in the woods photographing the spring thaw in wonderment at the changing of seasons and the transience of life—here it was still winter but it felt like spring and everything that lived was taking advantage of the moment.

So was Moses. So should I.

photo of cat in sunshine

Late in the Year, black and white photo © B E Kazmarski

So I resolved just to let her follow her course and she would let me know what to do.

I have kept this lesson in my heart with each of the older kitties I’ve loved since. I don’t care what’s coming for us. I love them right now, this moment.

Other articles celebrating Peaches’ 100th Birthday

Bid on this Print and Start Celebrating Peaches’ 100th Birthday

How Peaches Stole My Heart

Old is Awesome!

Loving Care for Your Senior Cat, Part 1

Beyond Food and Water, Loving Care for Your Senior Cat, part 2

My Feline Garden Sprites

Other articles about Peaches

Peaches Applies for a Job

Get Well Wishes for Peaches

Peaches Says, “Thanks for All the Get Well Wishes, They Worked”


“Pawprints and Raindrops” published in Catnip Chronicles

pastel of a cat on a bed

Sunday Morning, pastel © B.E. Kazmarski

One of my new poems is published in this online magazine of all things of interest to cats and their people! Visit the page to read the poem, and don’t forget to scroll down to the bottom to get to the Table of Contents to read the rest of the e-zine.


Green Sparkle Ball

photo of cat with sparkly green ball

Giuseppe and His Green Sparkle Ball

On the subject of poetry and cats, here is a poem I read at my 2009 poetry reading inspired by Giuseppe and all cats at play.

Cats are pretty intelligent, so I’ve never been able to figure out how they fool themselves into thinking that a little sparkly green ball is an object of prey, especially when they get all carried away and race all over the house, growl at other cats when they come near the catch, and stash it in a safe place when they are done.

I figure it’s a starting point for the imagination, something to follow down the rabbit hole like Alice into a wonderland of discovery.

GREEN SPARKLE BALL
by Bernadette E. Kazmarski

Loping along, he freezes in mid-stride at the sight of it,
silently flattens himself, tail straight out behind,
ears alert, pupils dilated in amber eyes glowing from black fur,
his whole world centered on his prey,
a little wiggle of the hind end and he creeps forward
one soundless step, then another,
now, completely ready, he springs onto his prey,
a small bright green fuzzy ball with sparkly silver threads poking out all around.

Something about this toy sets off the receptors in Giuseppe’s brain
even though it’s been sitting innocently on the carpet
not moving or making sounds or being in any way provocative,
at the sight of it he’s transformed into the efficient killing machine
which is any feline.

Up into the air goes the green sparkle ball,
he swats, chases, corners it,
a big cat at 18 months, Giuseppe is 13 pounds of dense muscle,
but he picks it up delicately in his teeth and bounds up the stairs two or three at a time,
I hear him galloping around, even hear the bedsprings
as he pursues his prey around the second floor.

I’ve known this cat since he was two days old,
he has never been closer to the outdoors than a screened window,
he has never had to hunt for his dinner
except to find his way to the kitchen.
His mother had no chance to catch some unlucky mouse or chipmunk
and bring it home for an educational demonstration.
Why, then, this activity?

Later, he is sprawled on the bed with his brothers
and I find the green sparkle ball floating in the water bowl;
he does this with his toy, drops it in the bowl when he’s done playing
as if it’s stashed in a place where it can’t escape while he naps
and he can take up where he left off when he awakens.

Cats are not easily fooled.
When you get them a toy that looks like a real mouse
and toss it and push it around then retrieve it yourself,
they watch politely
and when you are done, resume their nap.

This object looks nothing like any prey he might ever chase.
So why is he chasing it?
And why does Cookie play pick-up soccer with a ping-pong ball,
and Kelly leap all around about a scrap of paper,
and the elusive panther caught on motion-sensor camera run after a blowing leaf
and the lion chase his tail?
Surely they see the green sparkle ball for what it is,
or are they so focused on their pretense
that for the concentrated time of play
the toy is convincingly real
and their activity vital?

Do I have a green sparkle ball,
something that relieves me from rational thought
and plunges me wholly into a world
entirely formed of my imagination?
Is that something that humans lost
in the development of rational thought,
our oversized brains finding this process unnecessary,
or is it there beneath our every discovery,
guiding our creative efforts?
When we let our mind play,
our thoughts creating a reality out of the raw materials available,
does that deep focus on the green sparkle ball
pull together seemingly unrelated bits we’ve gathered
and put them in an order we’d never otherwise see?
Did Einstein have a green sparkle ball,
that his thoughts pursued
until it led him to his theory?
Starting the first fire, inventing the wheel,
Proving the world is round, finding a vaccination for smallpox,
Composing a symphony, sculpting the iconic figure,
Creating any device that changes the world around it,
Does it start with chasing the green sparkle ball?

poem © 2009 B.E. Kazmarski