grame-rabbit
Grame Rabbit is a denless, mangy creature that drinks, smokes, hobbles, and slurs his S's around the streets of Boulder, CO. Don't get near him: he has rabies. / / P.S. For more dubious fun go to: / rabbitfooted.wordpress.com / pinkeyeview.wordpress.com / misfitjunction.wordpress.com
Like to the bird that singeth
To woo a ***** make,
I sing; and yet it bringeth
Upon my throat an ache.
For one who cannot hear me
Is one for whom I sing:
I sing for one not near me
Of loneliness and spring.
^ ^
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
Attentive student of the songs of birds,
No beakèd beast hath e'er more sweetly trill'd
A pair of notes or call'd in major thirds
Or minor with musicality more skill'd.
Adaptive linguist, practic'd in the tongue
Of wingèd feather'd creatures, thou hast writ
Into "The Birdsong Songbook" songs unsung
By birds which yet harmoniously fit.
And though the book began in higher throats
Diversely tun'd by Nature's artful hand
Ere measur'd were the times and tones of notes,
(Which often rest them now upon a stand),
Its finest lines (o'er which I now do rave)
Witness thy penmanship on every stave.
^ ^
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
Where daffodils
Perfume the breeze,
And chirps and trills
Concert the trees,
And nectar spills
From mouths of bees,
I find my thrills,
My fun, my ease.
And though it ills
I rather please
To take green hills
With allergies.
Benadryl pills?
No thanks: I’ll sneeze.
^ ^
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
In semitones it sang its morning song:
With perfect intonation did it sound
Each pitch-pure shaft of tone to richly confound
The staccato, choppy, chirpy, cheepy throng.
After this phrase of notes sung clear and strong,
A cadence-closing burst of trill unwound,
Shaken out taut and cinching, fast and round,
That lasted to the pure tones doubly long.
More beautiful singing I have never heard,
And yet was I inclined to doubt its worth.
I silenced my mind and listened to the earth,
And this was in the singing of the bird:
If all the world will be the way it is,
Be thankful for the bird that sings like this.
^ ^
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
.
A dandelion-yellow chick
Lately has lost her smooth white cap
With edges chipped out tap by tap
And peck by peck and tick by tick.
She moves with careful steps between
Her mother's not-too-careful strides,
And with a careless foot collides,
And falls (kerplunk!) sans any teen.
Today as small as a mother wren,
She'll soon outsize a mother dove,
Then shortly after will she prove
A natural mother—a mother hen.
^ ^
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
Give 'em a try, and feel the rush!
Virility and skittish flight
Are pent up in their potent taste—
Like a billion bunnies in a bite!
^ ^
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
Bouncing, boundless butterflies,
Bouncing in the balmy breeze,
Bouncing in the boundless skies,
Bounce between the brown-barked trees,
Bounce on by the bumble bees.
Buzzing, zipping bumble bees,
Buzzing in the zesty skies,
Buzzing in the zesty breeze,
Buzz into the butterflies—
Bumping—making butterbees.
^ ^
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
.
A thatched and wicker basket-nest
Cradles a cluster bright and new
And delicate and coolly blue,
With speckled royal freckles blessed.
The cherry blossoms pink the trees.
A snowy fall of tiny white
And quickly flipping petals light
Into an errant summer breeze.
Diffusely, prodigally blows
A heavy opiate-like scent,—
The lilac's prized accomplishment,—
The greenest envy of the rose.
And everywhere I idly walk
I see, in all the lightened notes
And whited tones and frosted coats,
The springtide paints that mix with chalk.
^ ^
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC