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Kristin Mar 2021
We're all mad here
the day you accept the bier
the moment you accept the fear
you understand, we're all mad here

We're all sad here
all is sorrow, a single tear
there is no tomorrow,  no home pier
you understand, we're all sad here

We're all angry here
all is lost cause, so strange, so queer
all is far, yet so near
you understand, we're all angry here

As a white rabbit dashes by
As a time flashes by
Late, late, late
for nothing and everything, too late
Mark Wanless Nov 2020
i am rich now
see dog squirrel and rabbit
huddled together
island poet Jul 2020
the osprey flys overhead, but the baby rabbit trembles not

~for any grandparent-poet lurking about~


the osprey overflies, a regularity scheduled patrol over
our backyard emporium and all its hors d’oeuvre creatures,
he/she has parental responsibilities, beaks to feed, PTA conferences,
the pilot, a wary watchful animal-his-rights guy, catalogues their still living  existentialism, for though they are not fish, his diet of preference, but in a pinch a rodent  or rabbit stew will do, if the fish are running too deep for no warming sun beckoning them to the surface.

Motel^ the baby rabbit, who lives with his parents,
(who doesn’t these days?) beneath the deck,
chews the clover overnight sprung, blissfully i g n o r a n t,
unawares or ignoring the poet be-laureating (him-her) but a mere
few feet above and away, pays no attention to the Poppy’s (grandfather) lecture about the rules of the animal kingdom,
who, eats whom, and to be more attentive to flying raptors.

thunderstorms forecast for the afternoon, severe say
the textured textual phone-netical all green messages, which
of course is a signal signal to the sun his job is done and can
leave the untanned poet in his state of original sin, soooo deliciously
white that he earns an appraising glance from eyes of the osprey,
a privilege he would happily tan away to promote equality ‘n stuff like peace on earth.

Motel, with his thermometer-humidity nasal instrumentation twitcher, decides, after chewing it over most carefully, time to go underneath where the white half naked people domicile, in order to avoid bathing, not his fav pastime, but making the osprey quitter le ciel, which is French for get out of Dodge, they got babies of their own to shelter and protect, even feed.

The Poppy, contented, thinks to himself, god couldn’t be everywhere,
so he invented grandpas to be “En Loco Parentis”  which
Does Not Mean Instead of Crazy Parents,
but easily could,
for who else writes
poems like this?
^ Motel, (pronounced as Muttle, as in Motel the Tailor from Fiddler o the Roof,
so named because of his mottled fur and markings
Unpolished Ink Jul 2020
Twitcher runner dancer

moonlit watcher

road chancer

nibbler chewer chaser

wind rider

headlight facer!
trying to capture the spirit of a rabbit
Tiptoe, down the rabbit hole we go
Eyes shut
Mouths closed
Can't tell them what we know

Times a-ticking
It's a-coming
The great killing, the great sweeping
A mystery to those sleeping

Exciting to those lurking
Sad to those fighting
Angels screaming, demons laughing  
It's all happening, then there's the Rothschilds
Who are thriving

Can you see in the dark, friend?
I hope you're well dressed
Cheers to you
If you understand.
====================================================================
Interpretation is a wonderful thing like dreams. you think and think, and think more. it's good, just don't let anyone else think for you. it's a double-edged sword though.. just look at all the people who think there are more than 2 genders. what are we at now, like 60? yikes... ;)

I hope you have a wonderful day or at least try to and don't do anything stupid unless you know how to get away with it. cheers.
====================================================================
Amy Perry Jun 2020
Follow the trail of daisies
That leads to my heart,
Follow like a white rabbit,
Keep your mysticism intact,
Believe, believe, believe,
The beautiful trail you see,
Believe, believe, believe,
It leads straight in to me.
Oh dear, what has happened to me?
I swear I was there but now I'm a tree
I really wish I was like a bird, flying high freely
But now I'm just here, all stuckly
Why oh why did this happened to me?

I've been pondering for such awhile
Now I've turned into a crocodile!
Oh dear, oh jeez, I'm not hostile - don't run away
I swear I'm worthwhile, please, come back this way
I just need someone to hang my head
Maybe watch the sunset
Perhaps to forget

It seems I forgot what I was saying
I also forgot my destination
Where was I going?
What were they controlling?
Oh dear, It looks like I forgot everything!

I see a beautiful monarch butterfly
Hello Mr.butterfly, what am I? what is my name?
Please, do not lie - at least give me a nickname
I cannot understand you
But what you speak is true
Thank you

Oh boy, what to do next?
Perhaps I'll attempt to forget
Or chase a white rabbit
Some might call it satanic
But I think it sounds fantastic
Secrets, my favorite.
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Poetoftheway Jun 2020
Sent for our amusement, pleasuring admiration,
our funny bones, and galore (glory)  of creation,
Texas squirrels are nuts, like crazy,chasing each other ,
up trees, across the wide expanse of the backyard,
where’s the Davy Crockett sharpshooters when
you really need them? (1)

now that baby rabbit, fearless or stupid, insists on
running on our deck, looking for applause for his skinny
legs hopping neath the chaise lounges, at any ole time,
guess this ain’t the love poem you were expecting,
then again you’d be wrong again and agin, but the
grandkids going, going, gone and applause muted

anyway, one of these days gonna stop and chat with
these two species, what they’re thinking about, the
human menagerie,  its depleted numbers, wherefore
and why, did the reduction of the human stockyard,
emboldened them to occupy territory they’d otherwise
shy away, hear what they say, gonna make a good poem

p.s. the avians yap and caw 24 hrs a day, presumptuous beasties noisy
__________________­_

(1) “In fact there wouldn't be a Texas if it weren't for squirrel stew. Don't condemn the idea of stewing your squirrel problems away. That's right! Davy Crockett and his Tennessee sharpshooters wouldn't have reached puberty if it were not for squirrel stew. Besides, what do you think they ate on the long trip from Tennessee to the Alamo? Enchiladas? Nope! You guessed it--squirrel stew.”

https://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/plantanswers/recipes/squirrel.html
Daniel Pokorny Jun 2020
I see it in my mind,
I hear it in my thoughts,
I feel it in my dreams,
I'm bringing myself down once more,
Once more into the rabbit hole of nostalgia,
Once more into the pain,
Once more into the sadness that I brought upon myself,
Once more into the sea that I call emotion,
This time is different though,
This time I know,
This time I'm aware,
This time I'm prepared,
I clench my heart and take a step,
Once more into the sea of red.
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