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Buckle-eared, sitting,
the ditch giving shelter
against a trying spring,
a hare with no immediate worry

just the usual stuff:
fox, buzzard, kestrel even,
the background mix of dread,
while to the left
snowdrops shine

and behind, carefree daffodils
begin a brief, incandescent grin
to draw life from

leverets will appear,
new-normally
on sugar paper cards,
if through our hurt grip
the ditch will hold
Each day will blessings flow your way
From your sure and consistent pace
Like the story told of a speedy hare
And the tortoise who won the race

Your dreams need daily attention
Which draws them to your embrace
So trade your fitful stops and starts
For that steady, consistent pace

Yes, quick and powerful actions -
At times they may have their place
But more success is gained by far
From a stable consistent pace

So when you plan your daily life
Save some focused time and space
For the daily thoughts and actions
That keep your consistent pace
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I've been putting some classic (old) parables and some new parables on my Mom's website for her.  As I built the page about the tortoise and the hare, I thought how effective (and prosperous) we can be when we act with consistent pace.

We all have different personalities, and some lean toward a consistent pace naturally.  My Dad and I can easily take a huge project and work a bit a day on it for 100 days.  Some others in my family...  don't naturally do that.
However, there is magic and power in a consistent pace!
Elly Apr 2020
here's the truth
i'm scared.
that i might not be what he really wanted
that he'd realize that he doesn't love nor like me
that i'm actially just a plain canvas
an empty hallway
messed up
and not enough

because i want him to see that i'm more than just what he sees 'cause he knows how much i don't like what i'm already seeing.
Ashlee M Dec 2019
Endless wood
A hunted, perfect hare runs
Enjoying the day.
A sentiment on how purely you can live, yet you cannot escape life who is the hunter.
rachel huberty Oct 2019
i don't write poetry anymore
i sit in my room, naked, feeling the curves of my body, searching for a sort of foreign peace within them
i study for exams, begin books i never finish, watch movies and stop halfway through, wear the same pants three days in a row, go a week without washing my hair
i lay down in the grass and watch the sky move
i laugh, i smile, i talk with friends
i feel alive driving in my car, letting the spring wind blow through my growing hair
i celebrate my mom's birthday, mother's day, memorial day
i go to baseball games and wear perfume
i play the only song i know on the piano when i should be practicing the flute
i stand in the shower and think too long and too hard
i pick fights with my dad because i can
i imagine my future, peering around the invisible bends in my path
(my apartment is beautiful, the one in my head, in case you were wondering)
i travel down 35W to see my family on their farms during harvest, the combines plowing through corn and leaving the fields bare for the snow to blanket in the winter
i sing loudly in church and pray only when i feel like there's something to pray about
i get lost in myself, trying to figure out who i am and where i'm going and what i want, the maze just never seems to end
i realize how much i'm starting to look like my mother-- my eyes, my cheeks, my nose are all bits and pieces that i got from her
i don't write poetry anymore
life has gotten too busy
life has gotten too hard
this poem has been in the process of being made since february, and it sat in my notes app for quite some time before i realized that i could make something beautiful out of it.
i've been dormant on here for a long time, but i finally feel like i'm in a place to start sharing again ;)
Ken Pepiton Jul 2019
Ten minutes later,
the old crow's sitting quiet,
scratching,

no caws or that funny owl mimic trick he can do,
it's a hoot.  
He laughs.

I know a preacher or two who say that regular,
as liturgy, it's a hoot,

here, all say amen,
preach it, if you be the choir

searching still the lost chord to charge your life.

Ain't God a Hoot?

Well, me bein' Baptist, 'n' all...
I 'as reared Mormon...
Baptized and confirmed, Catholic to the core...

Po' man at the door,
My daddy was abastard niggajew and Jesus

fixt me, as I was waitin' fo' m' man, wit Nico
and the band
t'find a
soft place
to die
on
velvet underground, feedback scream

are you
experienced? I scream,

Back for more?
Peace ends wars, don't push me with your
reasonable

casualty in aitia-tick-tick terms un de
cerned, fined, ground

past granulated to sublimated

breathe

Elysian fumes,
unexpected right,

Sulphur, you were going to say,
or brimstone,
or rotten egg,

Sweet suasion sweet sweet suasion

to slip into
geological time and drift away.

You know that smell?
musing around in a sea of subtle sounds far away
Wayne Wysocki Oct 2018
(a limerick by Wayne Wysocki)

The tortoise and hare had a race
But the rabbit came in second place
      So the notion that speed
      Makes the win guaranteed
Just isn't always the case.
Copyright 2018 Wayne Wysocki
Erica Aug 2018
your love hurts
but i cant help but need it
i cant help but need you
why do you love me
why do you do these things to me
you tell me you love me
and i say it back
but do you really?
we haven't talked in months
you talked **** to someone who tells me everything
'it was just because of my meds but im in love with her'
you say to the girl who sleeps over my house for days and nights on end
the girl who loves me too
the girl who learned to hate you because you love me instead
why do i cause problems.
i fell in love with you day by day
it slowly eats away at me not being able to see you
why is it this way
why am i in love with you
i hate this feeling but...i love you
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Tick

In the tyranny of the measuring clock
Death is but a tortoise in this timeless race
With every slow tick and echoing tock
Forever keeping its careless pace

With so much to do I stay awake
With one foot in front of the other
Running with knees and feet that ache
Time feeds worms a salutary supper

In the end we must lie and nap
Embrace eternal slumbers deadlock
We are just hares caught in times trap
In the tyranny of the measuring clock

Tock
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