The Midnight Forest

Cynical Wordsmith

The midnight forest
Holds many wonders.
Bizarre creations, happenstance beauty,
A history, a peace,
That warmth in the air,
The sounds and stillness,
The spirits and solitude.
Black earth crumbles in my open palm
And I’ve been gone for far too long.

View original post

Book Review: Catnip, Toilet Paper, and Lasers by M.G. Rorai

Author: M.G. Rorai
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 146
Genre: Poetry

This purrfectly hilarious cat poem collection while bring back wonderful memories of your feline friends and have you busting with laughter. 9 out of 10 cats recommend this book; the 10th one was Grumpy Cat.

Amazon →

My Review

I chose to read this book after receiving a free e-copy. All opinions in this review are my own and completely unbiased.

Catnip, Toilet Paper, and Lasers is an adorable collection of poems about—you guessed it—cats! I could just picture cats chasing a laser pointer around or falling off a favorite spot. My favorite poem was about the author’s cat, Elsa. I thought it was hysterical:

The poems in this book are fun and make it easy to imagine the antics of various cats. Any cat lover will enjoy Catnip, Toilet Paper, and Lasers over and over. It’s the perfect book to share with children and other cat lovers.


What is the answer?
What will prevail?
Will it be the red dot?
Or will the cat win the tale?

My name is Socks,
and much to my delight,
I chase a red dot
almost every single night.

It travels over bed sheets
and runs across the floor
while I chase to my heart’s content
thirsting for more!

By day I sleep;
by night I chase
when my human comes home from work
and pulls out the laser post-haste!

I hear the clicking of the button
and race into the room
to run after that red dot–
look at me zoom!

About the Author

M.G. Rorai enjoys hanging with her cats and annoying her husband. She’s been writing for as long she can remember and is slightly obsessed with cats.





The Saddest Seas

Cynical Wordsmith

To those who suffer
From despressive states:
I know your base existence.
I share your mental predispositions.

It’s not a constant sadness,
At least not at first.
It’s a cancer,
A living, growing thing.
It feeds off of moments
And it’s not the host’s fault.
There are treatments,
Drugs, and therapy,
But there is no cure,
Just a gentle staving off.
You sail the seas of life,
With natural highs,
Natural lows,
And a plethora of whirlpools.
You start at the brim,
And the winds of fate
Gently push you
The downward spiral begins,
The light seems further away.
Hope slips
And the struggle intensifies.
With water on all sides
You forget how the surface appears,
And all you know
Is the darkest depths.

It will swallow you,
If you let it.
The sea will still flow
As if you never were.
But there is always hope,
Even with…

View original post 93 more words