Poetry written for cats, by a cat.

Jennifer currently lives in Calgary, Alberta but is destined to live next to the ocean. You know, a place with palm trees and a Green Sea Turtle named Aubergine. She will spend countless hours on the beach, regaling Aubergine with fantastic tales of her life back near the snowy peaks of Western Canada.

Ms. MacLean is the scribe to her cat Newton’s poetic prose. Newton does not have thumbs, you see; nor any wish to denigrate himself by slaving behind a keyboard, particularly when there is a cat tree expertly positioned in a sunbeam above a hedgerow of birds.

Jennifer is the conduit for Newton’s passionate (and relentless) pursuit of poetic eloquence. She hopes you like it. Newton doesn’t care.

Newton MacLean is a complicated cat. You might think he is a cat of few words, but you would be wrong. Oh, so very wrong.

Newton began his training as one of the world’s most accomplished feline poets like so many before him: tucked into a ball in the crook of his human’s knees while they read and recited the great literature of the times.

His talent for weaving rhyming couplets and iambic pentameter soon emerged, playfully marrying words with ideas and experiences in a myriad of clever ways. He was destined to be one of the greats.