writing

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Patrick (traditional Catmis Song)

December 18, 2025December 19, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments

In a recent Facebook post of a bit of good news on my front and amid a number of replies I got one from an old friend Linda, who, after commenting on said post, added that her husband has been singing “one of my greatest hits” recently and I immediately realized that, shit, I’m a bit late on reposting this “one of my greatest hits” that Linda’s husband has been singing!

Now, the one of my greatest hits? It’s a Christmas tune about their cat Patrick that I will be posting now, all holiday tradition-like, for the fourth year in a row.

Quick history:

Linda posts picture of cat Patrick next to Christmas ornaments four Christmas’s ago with the caption “It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick”
I see post and immediately start singing, in my head, the beginning of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” except with cat Patrick instead and then can’t stop until I’ve written new, Patrick-centric, cat-centric lyrics for the whole thing. I then respond to Linda with “Ok, so you do know that dropping “It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick” is like dropping a gauntlet full of beer and cat nip to a to a crazy cat lady guy who likes to do this sort of thing right?” followed by posting the new lyrics and Bing Crosby’s video of the actual song for her to follow along with
Linda is happy. Responds with a “Wow”, an “AWESOME”, a number of exclamation points and even a Wayne and Garth “We are not worthy!” GIF
I am happy … for like 5 minutes knowing I’m not done, can’t be done. I search out an instrumental of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” and take that with me into my studio at work and then send home the pieces to mix with maybe a little Christmas production magic
Four years later Linda’s husband is singing the tune during the season in anticipation and Linda is also telling me that Patrick (and his tail Sebastian – apparently it is its own being entirely) are also waiting

it’s fun, it’s catly and it’s Christmassy.

Nuff said.

Cheers to you Patrick (and Sebastian) as always, you damn good looking Christmas cat … and tail.

‘Tis the season Patrick.

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Patrick

It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick

Everywhere Pat goes

Take a look in his snug cat bed laying his Patrick head

With maybe a mouse or two under his toes

It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick

Fur on every rug

Till the monster is need brought out

To suck away all hair’s clout

While Patrick runs no doubt

An extra can can of food or some cat nip for mood

Is his wish as any cat would

Ball with a bell and a knock it to hell

Is new wish across some hardwood

And Mom and Dad do funny dance to not step on cat’s pants

It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick

Everywhere Pat goes

There’s a tree that is soon to rise

Each branch a new cat prize

The hanging kind just waiting for a fall

It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick

Snoozing underneath

And what brings that slumber best

Are the lights not put to test

With Christmas cats now at rest

(break)

It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick

Runnin’ cross the floor

To every cat’s Christmas dream

And the presents that will be

Box torn paper all a-skew

Sure it’s Patrick once more … time to puke, time to puke it’s Patrick’s time to puke.

mmm … mmm

Shared

December 17, 2025December 17, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments

New Quadrille prompt at dVerse Poets this week, and one more for the year, this one from Mish and the word here is “Hibernate”

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Shared

Cricket the Cat can trouble

sleep

too with me

not sure which causes the other

if at all

possibly

blind antsy cat angst

or my equal dreading closed eye finds

shared

only to hold her to my chest

to hibernate together

closer

in kind

The Holiday Postcard Tableau (poem)

December 14, 2025December 14, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments

The prompt this time here was from Laura and of a tableau.

And our tableau has a fixed poetry style entitled The Tableau – created by Emily Romano in October of 2008

Poetry Style:

1 or more verses
6 lines per verse
5 beats/syllables per line

Poetry Rules:

title should contain the word ‘tableau’
poem should aim to be pictorial
no rhyme scheme

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The Holiday Postcard Tableau

Everyone cheesed

with wide Cheshire grins

I poked a finger

in sister’s shoulder

from back of the car

in a living room

Mom glared with a wink

pushing us to one

together with hands

directing movie’s

still photos to spend

just the right moment

One to send to Aunts

or friends reconnect

once a year to see

in perfect sweaters

or even a tie

with broad smiles us we

It’s tall mantle framed

for a cat to skirt

ginger steps ’round smiles

for aunts miles away

to remind us that

we had such a day

Sweat Pants (poem)

December 11, 2025December 13, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry6 Comments

Lillian had a prompt at dVerse Poets earlier this week titled “Come Sew With Me … Sort Of …” where she gave a wonderful little glimpse into some of her life’s days and her family and how a great deal of these days were impacted by her sewing machine.

Her prompt then, in relation to that (in the above link), was to ask folks to write a poem that incorporates one or more of the sewing terms she listed in said link.

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Sweat Pants

Years have longed me

to try and seem even a glimpse of

pant seams unstretched

back to

younger ones

before I longed

older years to be more like those

maybe if I start walking

with intent

sit up more than just sitting up

being victory enough

of still breathing we talk

joke

but so buttonholes on jeans won’t mock

my pinch-skin attempts

tell me they won’t tell if I don’t of an open ease hid with a belt

and legs won’t need hemmed or folded

recall (ing)

when I was tall (er)

two inches closer to the clouds

above now that made me more of a looker

I’m sure

in those younger years

but adjust then to these older ones

instead

and think,

well

who don’t like sweat pants?

Some Tunes ‘n That (song links compiled in one, easy convenient post)

December 7, 2025December 13, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments

Note: How to overwrite taking a day off.

Once a month comes once a month, it’s pretty regular as once a months go, as long as calendars don’t try to fuck with me and suddenly change cats out of time on my wall … (hey wait, when the hell did that meowing tabby suddenly turn into a yawning gray long hair?) but once a month means that I am takin’ Monday off. And when I do, take this once monthly, it can sometimes involve a new “tune” …

f4444444444444444444444444445vcvxcd5f54rzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzcddddddddd

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000k,lb;l;l;l;l;lpppppppppppppppppppppppppppp(L8kd

(sorry, that was Cricket in case you were curious, always reminding that she is a part of this process, blind keyboard stepping right through, though her singing voice definitely can leave a bit to be desired … but so with ya on the solitary 7 my friend … I know huh? Nope, don’t get me started)

… and when that is the case, a new tune, I will take my time that often then involves me working said tune, though it has been a little while for this as we live in dire times, free thought not really being all that much of a thing these days so you must be careful, but I will work it.

Well I did work a new thing this Friday and with that, that new tune I thought, as I have done before, to put a few things into one easy, convenient post as once I am in song mode I am just there.

So, with links to their posts, I boogie woogie here, I channel Bob Dylan, there’s a new one with a big top soundtrack, I lament the white supremacy that seems to, so sadly, be a thing these days, from the top on down, I Cheap trick some need to conform, I rail on tax cuts ala the Beatles, and the always GOP minority rule via Tears for Fears.

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God Made Trump – God: “Yeah, That Was In Error” (boogie woogie song revision)

A breathless boogie woogie thing

“Boogie Party” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

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Gonna Wanna Rule Somebody

(To Bob Dylan’s Gotta Serve Somebody)

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Trump Circus Two

(to a little circus sounding bed with “circus” being most apropos these days)

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One White Leads To Another

(To The Fixx “One Thing Leads To Another”)

White supremacy, proud virtue of this administration

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We Want You To Be We

(to Cheap Trick’s “I Want You To Want Me”)

To the GOP who feel they’re somehow being persecuted in their beliefs by not be allowed to dictate how everyone else lives

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Baby, it’s a Tax Scam

(to the Beatles “Baby You’re A Rich Man”)

Yeah, this one is obvious

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Minority Rule

(to Tears For Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”)

Popcorn anyone?

Trump Circus Two (song)

December 6, 2025December 12, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments

I’ve written of this before (so feel free to heavy sigh and skip off now while you can) but one of the main tools for me in my job (I’m a production guy) is a production music site I use on an almost daily basis to find music beds for commercials that I will maybe voice or, if not, still produce.

But in my searching, though, for a tune that seems to work for whatever spot is at hand I will come across beds that I like, beds that I can even think that I might like to write some lyrics to and have a bit of fun with at another time, something I have done on occasion because Hey? Who don’t imagine themselves to possibly be a rock star right? I know, that’s silly but still, for me, it’s always been just another avenue for creating and also to do that bit of rock star wannabe “singing” (“singing” definitely in quotes here but, being a production guy, I can work a little magic on the me sing end).

But, if you know this me here in said Attic, you also know that I have done quite a lot of parody tunes over the last 8 or so years, “parody” in name only though as they ain’t silly, mostly those of a political type to try and get some genuinely angry angers and frustrations out and make needed points (and lord knows there are a lot of those and needs of such, especially now) as, years ago, I realized, no matter how well written or compelling a straight up opinion piece of mine might be no one was ever going to read it. Period. Not even me back to me.

But? If I put it to a tune? Well …

So then to this and the updates …

A couple of years ago I came across this music bed that had a real carnival, circus kind of feel to it and well, Carnival? Circus? Yeah, that feel worked pretty well for anything GOP then or now (always does) and James Comer specifically and his fruitless investigations into the Biden Crime Family Syndicate, and his needed distraction from true crime family syndicates.

I then revisited it earlier this year as, with this administration, Circus never really goes out of style.

And then to a now, another revisit …

Trump Circus Two

The Trump Circus big tops cabinet meetings now

While its members try one up each other how

They are bestest at these lapdog bestest tests

A circle’s turn jerk him from rest

Don nods approval or he simply just nods

Drifting to dreams of nobels or birthday cards

Wondering any King ever worked so damn hard

To nod all humble while he’s viewed as a god

Such blessed … circumstance

And he always

Keeps all on point

Of just how great he is

Reminds all around

For the camera’s now

Best ever in Prez Biz

This dog and pony show it never gets old

Spin propaganda to keep all in the fold

The only real truths are the lies fascists weave

Fake news real truth they call deceit

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

The Trump Circus keeps going round and round and round

Where lipsticked sentiments are found

They have though now dropped true governing ball

As we wait some golden age apparently one on hold

But it’s happenin’ right now is what we’re all being told

Don’t believe your eyes or pockets

You’re all better than days of old

The Trump Circus big tops everywhere and Hell now

As fishing boats keep blowing up, some twice now

But hurricanes have stopped at at his seeming hand

Protecting all the others at sea and at land

Let Them Eat Grapes (post)

November 29, 2025November 30, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments

Decided tonight to not do any writing after bad attempts at forcing something (yes, fully aware of the now current irony here) and, instead, try to just keep to a normal, human, regular ol’ me schedule on a Friday for once and just pretend that it’s like any other night during the week and NOT a finally reached weekend to stay up to all hours like I’m reliving some little kid fantasy of being allowed to not have to go to bed all normal and such with no adult supervision or guardrails and eating nothing but candy, even though I AM an adult (at least as I’ve been told on occasion and that a birth certificate will attest) and could and should admonish myself and hold the guardrails up on my own but too often don’t (there was actually and admittedly a little candy involved … but hey, it was dark chocolate which is better right?).

Last weekend kind of put this in some stark perspective when I realized on Sunday morning, around 9a, that I hadn’t been to bed yet, since Friday when I got up for the day, though I’m sure I nodded off at some point in my somewhat recently bought sleek and cool, tall backed computer chair holding the napping torch for old men everywhere who fall asleep in chairs but, as said old man, I just can’t do that shit any longer. Well, I can, but just not terribly well and when Beck, earlier tonight, as we did of bit of catching up on a day and a week, an eventful one, and a one where I was sitting in a rocking chair, I know huh? told me that I can start to sound a bit silly and punch drunk about half way through a weekend’s lack of sleep and I realized enough is enough.

So, I decided to just stick to my usual weeknight schedule on this Friday. Come home, say Hi to Beck and Mr Matt (nephew) and the Arthur and the Saphira and the Rikki (cats), give a “Hello” shout down the stairs to my Bella and the Cricket (also cats) while moving rather quicky to the bathroom for a pee (it was a longer ride home than usual tonight with some snow that involved a long brush and a grabbing of gloves before I could drive, so peeing was of the utmost importance, the first thing, a priority, as that bit of extra time on the road can really get ya as an old dude) get some dinner in order for the girls and then for me, look at a few things in the Attic, some new likes and views and comments, thanks everyone, while Cricket waits to share my dinner, something she will remind of in meowling impatience if I am moving too slow for her liking on some nights, plus I know, she knew, that I had some pasta tonight … she could smell it … a slice of ziti ala vodka pizza from earlier and the Cricket, well she just LOVES herself some pasta.

Then it was search for a something to watch, continue some recent new found shows maybe, “Pluribus” or “Down Cemetery Road”, look at the texts I send to myself during the week for new watch ideas, possibly a movie, or just scroll through all the possibilities without really deciding on anything, just preview a bunch of trailers which, eventually, can prove to be just like I had taken the time to watch an actual movie.

I did eventually decide on something though, “The Legend of Ochi”, which I had been eyeing for a while, for a well spent 5 dollar rental, which was a story of unintentionally befriending some perceived enemy but one that’s really cute with big ears and one we’ve seen many times over but had Willem Dafoe and Emily Watson and Finn Wolfhard from “Stranger Things” and a wonderful young actress I didn’t know and a really cool, really cute, big eared little furry fella I just mentioned with even bigger emotive eyes and a Momma just waiting for and dearly missing him.

This garnered some genuine welling up from me at the end, eye dabbing with the bottom of my T-shirt, but not in a bad way, though there were some harrowing moments and I thought “Well done Me. You spent almost a movie’s length worth watching trailers and then also watched a full movie (after its trailer – twice) and still kept in line, almost, with a regular night during the week”.

But then, at the end of “The Legend of Ochi” and, again, some eyes dabbed with the bottom of a t-shirt, I went to my little half fridge for a seltzer and a beer and I noticed the remainders of a bag of grapes that I had brought home with me, from my other little fridge, the one under my desk at work and I said to myself “Let them eat Grapes”

Then I was fucked.

Now I had to get up and expand on “Let them eat grapes” and I had been doing so well.

And this was the dumbest of shit. I mean who the hell is going to say “Let them eat grapes?” Who is possibly going to take that as some dismissive thing, as it sounded in my head, like Marie-Antoinette and some shit about cake (which didn’t really work out all that well for her if embellished, somewhat fictional history recalls) but “Let them eat Grapes?”

Hell Steve, who don’t like grapes?

I mean if I am some sort of disdainful aristocrat basically telling you to fuck off “Let them eat grapes” would be a real head scratcher right?

Let them eat grapes and let them have universal health care and let them shorten the divide between the have’s and the have nots and let them feel safe?

Yeah, surely some correlations to our current here but I ain’t goin’ there, not right now at least. That’ll just make me angry.

So, “Let them eat grapes” which I did by the way, as I try to be a bit healthier with my snack choices these days but only after some dark chocolate of course.

The Mathematic (poem)

November 26, 2025November 27, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry9 Comments

So, Mish, at dVerse Poets had an idea this week to get poetic about numbers, of which you can find the explanation here.

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The Mathematic

The Mathematic turned to poetry

beauty up his numbered dull

with colorful thoughts

or ugly pretty found bursts

of emotion and sight

till he saw poets could count

emotions in rules

and breaths even, if they wished them just right

He wondered to witches

calling earth and then sky

and all in betwixt … us

unseen to our eye

for wardings and cures from curses and threats

till he saw difference … in

amount’s pinch or drop’s intent

could be worried life or harbingers of death

He examined too, to priests

held in such lofty regard

that he envied not bound

to explain earthly fears

more instead some grand prescience beyond

no greater the bard

but also one to sing in sequential verses

spoke in congregated number feared curses

He thought, then, I too, count

but just so in stars

making maps as guides for their rides cross the sky

taking us in their own prettied word silence wind

above our footed clay

healing worries of our bound

or maybe, in those heavens

I too have numbers profound

and the Mathematic

found himself

unalone

First (poem)

November 20, 2025November 22, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry9 Comments

Been thinking all week on a prompt from Lisa this past Monday, a new quadrille idea (dVerse 44 word poem) to include, this time around, the word “coax” and I really just had nothin’.

But then when I got home tonight I gave it another thought and suddenly remembered something that I had written quite a number of years ago (30 plus now) but could never find the copy of over all that time and so many moves, but something that had gotten a compliment, back then, from a well known, well published local poet and professor who frequented the cigar shop my fiancé managed and who agreed to take a moment to read after I convinced Danielle to ask him the big ask, if he would be so kind.

Now, I still have never found that copy but tonight some of it came to me, including the lead in of the title (I always remember that) so I thought to revisit and rework it then as best I could and it was a short bit, certainly one that could fit a quadrille.

So, my altered version (including “coax” replacing “feel” and meeting a 44) but still there in spirit and pretty close, I think, to the original.

The compliment from him, by the way, written in pencil at the bottom of the poem? He said he thought that it was complete.

That was pretty big.

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First

A girl leaned older

Outside the store

holding up a wall with a bent knee left foot

and a cigarette with a right hand lilt

and a waking sudden me

with both

through a smoke clouds glance

coaxing me to something

I didn’t know

The Sound and Shapes of Stars (poem)

November 15, 2025December 14, 2025by Stephen J Frankenberry6 Comments

So, a new prompt from Laura at dVerse Poets is to get Chaucerian with a Roundel. This is something I’m sure I would remember if I were to be transported back to my College days, and Doc Sipple and Doc Bowers but then, in that transporting back, I would most surely get distracted and totally forget the task at hand and forget about those classes and lessons.

But here, in the now?

Circling back to the 14^th Century: Though we often associate the Roundel with Swinburne, his was a 19^th century deviation because it is to Chaucer that we owe this poetry style, (as well as the iambic pentameter and the ‘rime royal’).

Thus we distinguish the Chaucerian Roundel from all other forms as well as from The Rondel and Rondeau. And by now you’ve guessed that our poetry today is to be written as Chaucer outlines:

Poetry Style:

13 lines
3 stanzas divided into 3 lines (tercet); 4 lines (quatrain) 6 lines (sestet)
rhyme scheme: A B1 B2/a b A B1/a b b A B1 B2
usually 10 syllables per line as iambic pentameter

As is evident from the above there are only 2 rhymes to the scheme, and once you have the first 3 lines, it repeats in two refrains so the poem is not too challenging!

Ok, now I will beg to differ on the “not too challenging” but?

So I went to where I’ve been on a few things somewhat recently and hope I kept to task Laura.

As to Doc Sipple and Doc Bower? Sorry I’m late, I was a bit distracted.

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The Sound and Shapes of Stars

Singing songs no one dears but me off key

stars grass at my back and breeze through my toes

of twilight verses and star choruses those

A menagerie of lighted point shapes stabled

fed above clouds of my head on clear eves

Singing songs no one dears but me off key

stars grass at my back and breeze through my toes