#hare
Entranced by the moon.
Shy eyes in golden of trance.
What secrets do tell
Mar 19
Mar 19, 2026 at 2:55 AM UTC
Those so demeaned creatures,
the other white meat, Porky and that one,
from Charlotte's web, Some Pig, that one,
blue ribbon from the fair in old time farm times,
as we had ourselves, once, and then again, a time,
to just take what we wanted, for once, take it all, just
beware the hidden truth in commands from scruples,
adjusted fecklessness, pangs of con-scientious-ness, slowing
social truths less dull edge, as sharper at this point, than fear,
sharper at this instance in this state of consciously sharing mind
as wares, soft expandable each stretchy images spat inadvertently
to spell spiritual volunteers blinking thinking we ought at least try,
just once, as a we of me and thee, thinking peace is positioned whying
out loud, yes, we know better, but how loudly do we laugh, clowns cry,
that's what the circus is for, but we who believe run the show, you know.
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 6:39 PM UTC
i locked eyes with the moor last night
and he begged me to turn away
he said
« turn from the swale that weaves the shale
the marl that smells of hail
the fox and the hare and the fawn
that wake beneath a languid moon
move on to a brighter thought
that peaks beyond my cliffs »
i swathed its sultry writhe
around my chest and began to shiver
as roots began to scrape
scratch
slither in my veins
as the fox and the hare and the fawn
slipped their way through the soil
i choked on rind and loam that night
and the herbs seared,
more rotten than peace,
symbiotic
synergy
the fox and the hare and the fawn
seaming silks
and cranking my geometry
it was then i found its strath
and the skies it seemed to hold
and despite my shaking
shuddering
splintered bones and staggered walk
the hill’s strath began to grow
as earthworms under mist
and the fox and the hare and the fawn
sealed my brains at last
Nov 6, 2025
Nov 6, 2025 at 4:25 AM UTC
I don’t know
Hidden in the darkest ignorance
Lord help me
Chant your holy name
Point me in the right direction
Chant your holy name
Establish a robust connection
I feel your love again
Mar 5, 2022
Mar 5, 2022 at 3:24 PM UTC
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
Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 8:54 AM UTC
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
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 10:21 AM UTC
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.
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 3:50 PM UTC
Endless wood
A hunted, perfect hare runs
Enjoying the day.
Dec 11, 2019
Dec 11, 2019 at 11:15 AM UTC
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
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 10:46 AM UTC
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?
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 2:37 PM UTC
(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.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
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
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
#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#
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 1:47 PM UTC
My Lord...
My parched eyes pine for the mercy of becoming your abode,
I pray I have enough teardrops to wash your lotus feet,
My hope never sinks that the most fortunate day must come,
That all I am left with is, is offering you my heartbeat.
My Lord...
Every blooming flower from the garden of my heart,
Aspires to become a part of the garland embracing your glorious neck,
Coloring itself bright, very busy sweetening it's own nectar,
Wishing that it be touched by your luminescence before losing its breath.
My Lord...
I relentlessly look around for a devout soul singing your sweet name,
Submerged in the deep, boundless ocean of your transcendence and bliss,
Mere human that doesn't want a want that is without you,
Seeking sweet pleasures that come with your eternal service.
My Lord...
My words always fail themselves in an attempt to come close to describe you,
All I know is that you tremble my heart with love and power at the same time,
I will never know if I am worthy of the joys that the most exalted have experienced,
I kneel in prayer however that you touch every thought that crosses my mind.
In this vast universe...
All the beautiful things, serene and pacific,
All the lovely things, enchanting and fantastic,
All the ugly things, vile and vitriolic,
All the material things, superficial and plastic,
All the pleasurable things, addictive and hedonistic,
Everything you've bestowed upon me, I humbly offer to you along with me.
How many stories you patiently weave into my soul,
How many places you make me go; sights you make me see,
How you overwhelm me with exciting highs and excruciating lows,
While all I really wish is to just become free.
But still bound...only by your love.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 12:21 AM UTC
If a turtle could.
He would walk faster- maybe.
Find some dynamite.
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
I found a dead bunny
in my yard yesterday
his eyes were still open
But his body was still
I crouched down beside him
to admire his Beauty
and his fur still matted
from where it had been chewed
I didn't feel sadness
I admired his bravery
I've seen lots of his kind
lately here in my yard
They're sent from the heavens
from my native ancestors
The Raven, the swallows & the two turtle doves...
They are all the....
...reminders
of a God's Burning Love.
I gently picked up
that long sleeping bunny
his little front legs
just dangling straight down
I made him a bed made of mossy fresh Earth
to return him back home
......without even a sound.
Cherie Nolan © All Rights Reserved * 2016
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
a vibration in the air
and a hare tears off
fields flying up to a door, ajar
and the music nobody listened to
when God was in the detail
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
My words have just been ramblin',
I left the rhyming state of mind.
The ace of spades is gamblin',
but the rabbit's now on time.
Elevator going down,
catching buses to the sound.
How do I know that I am late?
Time exists in spite of fate.
We're racing, now, against the clock
in circles, 'round the spokes.
I've forgotten how the ticking tocks,
for the gears have been long broke.
Darlin', won't you take my hand?
They're try'na pull you under and
together we can leave this land,
but you must know just where you stand.
-
This shortcut leads to trouble,
but you'll get there on the double.
Bad ideas, I've had a couple;
my shattered thoughts within the rubble.
Broken fragments of my mind,
my fate's aligning just in time.
To the past, I'm disinclined;
looking down an uphill climb.
-
You're sending me a message
about the faithfulness of love;
the white rabbit left me breathless,
I still don't know what you speak of.
"I chose you, please choose me, too?"
I'm running, but I don't know what to.
I've fallen down the rabbit's hole,
into a world without console.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
Lose yaself I lost myself
Passin' notes but class I failed
That's a kno yu ask yaself
Fast or slow a Rabbit-Snail
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
I bow to Lotus Feet, which gives me eternal peace
I am incomplete without your compassion
you healed my heart when it was thrown and shattered
you picked me up when I struggled to get through
you gave me hope when it seemed so out of reach
I am nothing without you
Where ever I go, found not alone
your glorious touch was always with me
Nectar drop of Gita, feels presents of yours
O! my Lord Krishna show me the light on my path
your Flute stirs the Universal Consciousness
And Gita enchants the Transcendental Consciousness
O! Lord of the whole Universe, Omnipotent Master of all
Grant me a glimpse of Thyself,Be pleased to come and live inside me
-----------------------------------: :---------------------------------
By : Karunakar Saroj
(In the love of Lord Krishna)
“hare krishna hare krishna krishna krishna hare hare hare rama hare rama rama rama hare hare”
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
Something original. Of newer words, that originate from the pleasure and happiest of timeless incidents. The happenings, back of the park, near a set of restrooms, a pool of clear sea water and a purplish-red starfish. A sea cucumber. Trailing sea lions diving off of a cliff, a vertical display of rocks, moving a millionth of an inch each year. You caught me. --------
I can't nail it. It happens to me when I sleep, it comes around me, over my shoulders and latches onto my breaths. I'm breathing and it creeps inside of me like a mealworm, I turn to look for it and it disappears again. It lives in a shadow but it is also a shadow of itself. An anomaly, a space for time and the tell of time, its hidden agenda, its positive nature, how it yields itself to prey, how it coos for a sweet smile, runs up to me in mid-day traffic, and kisses me, noon at military time. ------
The blessings come. All of them. Laid out on a table in red and white checkerboard, making the eggplant parm and the homemade vinaigrette. Peanut butter chocolate chip vegan cookies. A dandelion necklace that only fits around my wrist. It makes me weep some twenty years ago on a Playskool slide, orange, red, bright. I'm looking around my neck and still it's not there. Every where I want to be, every where I've gone and could go. I should go to California too but all of this...stuff, everywhere, under my legs, in my pockets, the closets tumbling high and low, I haven't had enough to change, and still I am wanting something else. You the same, my shoulders tell me stories, I listen and I fall asleep. -----
Sometimes my nerves grow quiet, my words grow- but then they just fall again, skittering in a lull plash of blue-green pond water. The bench I sewed to the ground. A tale of mirth and woe. I cannot call on you, you will not come. Sleeping beauty, blue eyes, blonde hair. I wrestle you in the day to day, the hour to hour. Minutes cannot go by. Pages that turn but I remember everything. My mind will never go. -----
Two pink letters in the post today. Maybe neatly placed for you. A fake-tattoo puffin, upper-left hand corner. My hands are empty, they have indecent memories, they write indelible superpowers. I can't go on. I run lake water over my ankles, slowly drift beneath arcing waves and cold grey skies. Half a day blue goes black, night comes and I whisper when the sky goes quiet. Nothing is as serious as this. ------
In a white box there are two pairs of shoes and a soft bear. The bear without the name. He doesn't speak to me so I leave him with the sea birds. Put them in a push cart and show them off, I take them here, I take them there. No one asks his name, where he's going, what he's going to do. ------------
Tuesday's are the worst. I count and count and count. I will never forget Tuesday's, twisting like a cuneiform jelly, fingernails spoiling me-meat, breaking the Styx crossing the river Rhine, there is nowhere that I will not go, only for me to cross time. To wait, I really hate waiting. Nothing comes between, I lie to a stranger and they fall in love instantly. I see you on Monday evenings and I want to kiss you gently, the sides of your neck, on the inside of your hand. Where do you go when all the shadows go? ----
Some of me is backwards. The waves shape the sky. A rabbit goes with a fire truck, a blueberry with a cephalopod. Back to the soft wood walls of the cotton luxe room. My legs have never felt so safe, you have never made my teeth so happy. In Russia you touch my face, I see you, a picture of you, any part of your eyes or the things you draw upon and I am instantly in love. I love you, a part of you, all of the parts of you, your soul is the only part of me disconnected. You are the happiest moments of my pleasure. You taste like Tahitian Vanilla and Acai berries. Gold grains hit our shins as we go like great wild horses through the alluvial plains. -----
I cannot count to you. There are no goddesses in numbers. I only have sleep, for you to look me square away into a bliss I have in a picture of the two of us, lost in our faces, our hands wandering each others knees. I sit across from you and I am not close enough. I go closer and I want to be inside of you, all across my limbs expanding our spiritual forms, intertwining in our skins. So I speak, I lay my words gently in front of you so you cross them as you walk our path, back from the sea into a narrow slumber. Sleep is the only place we all can play. You, me, her, her, and I.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC