"cottontail" poems
Easter party on Saturn
Hi dudes, Briano Alliano at the Saturn club rings and today we have
A few Easter numbers for the cosmic
Sleepers and dead from earth
The first song is Easter is a festival for all
You see we have clowns and bunnies and chickens and
A big Easter egg to crack
You see as we crack it
The chocolate goes everywhere
And the smarties come right out
Saying party over Easter
Party over Easter it's ever do fun
To party over Easter
The Easter bunny, is coming a running over to the Easter party now
So you dudes up here can share Easter till the kind folk find a way
To contact you, so we can party all night
And now here is our next Easter song
Ok it's Easter and you know it celebrate
It's Easter and you know it celebrate
You see Easter is a time to celebrate
With hot cross buns and eggs with colour
It's Easter and you know it
Celebrate
You see it's Easter and you know it
We'll party on
It's Easter and you know it
We'll party on
You see the fabulous Easter bunny , man
Brings the Easter eggs to celebrate
With his clan
It's Easter and you know it
We 'll party on
And now, dudes here is our next song called here comes Peter cottontail
Here comes Peter cottontail
Running down the bunny trail
Picking up the eggs from everywhere
You see he has a powder puff tail
And he enjoys eating snails
From the garden of the queen of hearts every single day
Here comes Peter cotton tail
Up and down the bunny trail
Yeah this is the best Easter that we ever had
Hopping down the Easter trail dropping eggs in each basket oh yeah
Peter Peter little baby Peter
Mighty Peter cottontail skips
Down the trail saying happy Easter
Happy Easter.to us all
And now here is our next Easter song Easter is living living is loving
And a loving family sharing a meal
Celebration a time to party With coloured eggs and chocolate bunnies and a hot cross bin to share
Over a cup of coffee or a dessert for a lovely meal down the club with people you know and love
And then we celebrate a day
For the families who had a rabbit in their house last night or the day
Jesus rose from the dead
Out of his bed, it felt like more of a sleep than death but the bible stayed it as death but Jesus reincarnated on Easter into a few of the farms animals and some people at the dinner table agree with that and some don't agree and it starts an
Easter religion feud ending with
A big happy Easter happy Easter
Happy Easter. And a happy Easter
To all and to all a great night
Then grandmother tells out to the kiddies I think I saw the Easter bunny leave out house this morning
And then asked did he leave you kids anything and then suddenly the
Dinner table had Easter eggs all over it but noone cared for it was Easter dudes happy happy happy hsppy Easter a time to celebrate
And it is a happy Easter from me as well
Happy Easter
And my encore is Easter eggs are tasty
You see we go to the shopping centre and we celebrate oh yeah
The Easter party is for young and old
Yeah this sounds so rad
The eggs are coloured in yellow and blue oh yeah oh yeah
The Easter eggs are tasty
Sent from my iPhone
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:31 AM UTC
as i sit here,
eating yet another
bowl of trifle,
that is rabbit-like,
in it's ability,
to seem neverending.
my thoughts lollop,
with leperorine grace to,
fibonacci
and his box of bunnies
multipying and multiplying....
....ad infinitum...
another spoon,
to my mouth.
stop....
the sun's gentle rays,
sparkle through,
jellies translucency.
as tastebuds swoon
at sweet sugar's mango rush.
synapses hop and pop within
my head....
and in my mind's eye,
i see flopsy, mopsy,
cottontail..boy and paul.
(not peter..copyright laws)
cavorting with fibonacci's
numbers,
1,1,3,5,8,13,21....and so on.
playing leap frog, in a hedge
maze.
they play and add and hop and
grow,
in an unending trail,
spiraling off.... into the west,
in a sweet smelling lavender haze.
at this point, i'm now thinking...
just, how much sherry did
aunty beryl put in this magic
trifle....
if i am honest with myself
and with you as well.
i will open my heart to confess.
to three new,
believed abstractions:
one;
after all these years(47)
i am still enamoured of beatrix's
cute little rabbits
(but i must still claim
miss jemima puddleduck
as my all time favourite)
two;
fibonacci's numbers still rule
(what an extraordinary mind
this man owned and used
to the betterment of man kind)
and three;
....much more prosaically..
you see...
i fear i am having a moment of
metenoia ....
with regard to the trifle...
and the amount of it's delctable
connsumption.
i can now clearly
and a tiny bit queasily,
see....
what it is to be a glutton!!!
and i find repentant thoughts
of never again will i eat so much...
(in one sitting)....
are stomping on the rabbits.
(fortunately the rabbits are
getting out of the way....
...quick little fellas aren't they..
...no rabbits were hurt in the filming
of this imaginary sequence...)
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
Here comes Jesus
from his tomb
With baskets full
of gloom and doom
Judgment, famine,
pestilence and war
He says the end
is coming soon
I wish he’d sing
a different tune
Something that
we haven’t heard
before
He’s got Aids for Tommy
Parkinson’s for Sister Sue
There’s an STD for Mommy
(Daddy hasn’t got a clue)
Here comes Jesus
from his tomb
With baskets full
of gloom and doom
Judgment, famine,
pestilence and war
Maybe if you’re
extra good
And try to do
the things you
should
He won’t come
around here
anymore
You’ll wake up one morning
and you’ll know he isn’t there
And you will see the smiles
on the children everywhere
Oh here comes Jesus
from his tomb
With baskets full
of gloom and doom
Hippity, hoppity
what a ******* day!
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 10:48 PM UTC
The numbing light dims to black,
Car lights replace the dark and you tremble.
Like rose petals in the wind,
You waver and eventually collapse to the pavement.
The pavement is your destiny and future though.
Crates too massive to lift surround you like a canyon,
Vanishing those blazing car lights from your eyes
You take in everything like a breath of icy air,
Brief and crucial.
The hollow note echoes to stillness,
Infectious beats take their place and you sway.
Like a cottontail in the summer breeze,
You lean from side to side, finally standing tall.
And the standing transforms into your grip on life
Ships swerve towards you like starving crocodile,
Blocking out that deep bass.
You tread carefully like a waterlily a top a pond,
Almost imaginary but real at the same time.
Your bones rattle around inside your thinning skin,
The light shocks and shakes you
And the car lights reappear, taking center stage
Like the moon in the sky..
You shiver and spin around,
All that you see is your future.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
White cottontail hops
Leaving behind trails of hope
Prints of cheerfulness
©2014 by Regina Riddle
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
I remember when I was a little kid
Easter used to be a big thing
We used to eat our cadbury eggs
Paint our boiled eggs the day before
And we would go out and hunt
Once they had set the day before
We used to go to the sunday masses
That would teach about Easter
And of course Peter Cottontail
Would be once again hopping down that bunny trial
But somehow it always seemed funny to me
Even as a child
That somehow a bunny was supposed to lay eggs
And somehow little chickens were involved
Somehow it had something to do with jesus
And that we were supposed to be honoring him
By painting easter eggs
And opening up our easter egg baskets
Now that I am older
I don't really celebrate it as much
I am caught between the crossroads
Of childhood the fun and glee it used to hold
And the part of me that thinks about these things way too much
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 4:36 AM UTC
The hum of the fan
sings a lullaby
as the stress of the day
falls out of the muscles
An angels cloud of a pillow
my head sinks in
covers pulled up high
warm in my womb
The sheep ramble bye
one bye one
and slowly transform
into nothing
The sandmans dust
has been sprinkled
and rapid eye movement begun
falling into the land of dreams
Landing softly
in a newly mown green field
with knee deep patches
of bluebonnets and Indian paint brushes
A creek trickles nearby
its lulling sound
a salve for any remaining pain
brim swim in its cool waters
In the distance
snow capped mountains
haloed by the sun
that hides behind it
Cottontail rabbits
on the move
pay me no mind
on their journey
The purple martins
sing their song
interrupted
by the mockingbird
A whitetail doe
and her two spotted fawns
ease by, head down,
munching on grass
Calmed, and relaxed
breathing easy and rhythmic
eyes dart around
taking in the beauty of the dream
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
Aristotle at my fingertips,
not locked in soliloquies I may perform,
but heard from an Oxford don I have
in my pocket,
as I lean into each lesson and trudge
up and down my morning
constitutional,
where the firebreak meets
chaparral alive with cottontail
this morning, when I almost said, "it's too hot."
C'mon, walk a mile with me… like
on the road to Emmaus, but Christ, no;
this character,
a soldier in me, about to salt out, bids me,
walk a mile, "not two, one
does the trick."
The thought comes
as a dare from the Ralston Purina guy,
and I stepped onto my trail.
I dare think Aristotle's thoughts after Plato's,
thinking
I could have known this when I was younger,
but not to this degree,
if I had not dropped out, and never knew,
by rote,
to pass a test, that
"All men by nature desire to know."
This is
Curiosity, right? I suspect it is a gift.
The joy we find in sensation, proof
offered the gainsayer,
I say again, that which is good for nothing
never
never
naturally exists, so
what tool forms an eye to notice that…
see, through the window
of my poetic-pathetic e-thoughtic soul
a feathery
family of phoebe birds, flits by,
if that is the proper name
{Tufted-Titmouse, my AI replies},
tails reflecting a smokey blue hue,
they swoop and flutter past;
I see
in a non-imaged flashpast pattern
from a time in the summer of 1969…
Disneyfied trails
from Cinderella's dressing room
scene, not seen, but reminded of seeing,
the pattern, in this phantomind dance,
being witnessed now, as
this old soldier once saw it
performed by bluer birds than these…
Time skipper
shifts to another bubble intersecting mine
and
I hear a worried neighbor fret about the fire.
I almost say,
"One of the benefits of being
backedup to the cloud,
nothing to lose."
But I remember, she collects purses and shoes.
Sep 7, 2020
Sep 7, 2020 at 12:16 PM UTC
I saw Peter Cottontail.
I swear I did. It was he!
He was in a bar last night,
And he WASN'T drinking tea!
Sitting next to him, I said,
"Hey, ol' Pete, ol' buddy, ol' guy---
You've got time to take a break?
How so? Please, tell me why."
"Cut me some slack," the poor guy said.
"Humans have a nasty habit
Of placing incredible expectations
On this weary, forlorn rabbit.
"Hiding billions of eggs, come on!
I'm not omnipotent, as you must know.
This task has been ****** upon me
Since a long time ago.
"What's more, I find it rather disgusting
And NOT in any manner funny
When I see a kid chomping
On a chocolate Easter bunny.
"Furthermore, to pass on baby
Rabbits as an Easter present
Is NOT from MY point of view
A practice I'd call very pleasant.
"And as to candy resembling chicks,
To me it seems so surreptitious
When you're saying, 'Oh, how cute!'
But really thinking, 'How delicious!'
"I think it's time to pass the baton
To another generous benefactor.
I don't care who it is;
Find a willing, starving actor.
"I suggest an Easter squirrel,
An Easter bear, or Easter goose.
With so much on my plate there's no
Time to even reproduce."
I left poor Peter there at the bar
As he switched to drinking brandy.
I hope that he is able at least
To pass out all of his eggs and candy.
-by Bob B
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 8:59 AM UTC
Where is Peter Rabbit?
There was a patisserie I loved,
everything was shaded with pastel colors.
Awnings carved in gold,
flourishes coming up because it's my favorite garden.
He used to be in that garden, but not anymore.
You had three sweet sisters,
We drink raspberry-flavored tea,
the air was soft and graceful.
We wore dresses with thin lace at the edges,
matching hats with the dresses.
Transparent colors, like our hearts.
We perfumed with violets and art.
Flopsy was kind and generous,
Mopsy was attentive and virtuous,
Cottontail was imaginative and talented,
I was a mix of all.
One day Peter Rabbit came through the door,
touched and disheveled for breaking the code
in the garden.
We look at each other like a second and now I live in that second.
The times you showed up at the door and we never said a word,
that game I liked to ►
Then you disappeared because You wanted to evolve.
I stood there without knowing anything about Peter Rabbit.
Little reality was lost, Peter.
(You wanted that?)
Now we are the greyhound and March hare, playing the one who runs the most.
Why did Peter Rabbit leave?
-Codelandandmore // 0:36 ©
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 6:41 PM UTC
distant foothills in the pre-dawn haze
draw my memories back to youthful exuberance
pond fishing under clear sky
creak tromping in the search of the perfect agate
pockets full of jasper and quartz
as if pebbles were treasure
pleasurable day-dream
measure of peace –
wafting peppermint
transports me to a snow covered logging road
schnapps and a trap line
bobcats lured with carcasses tied to trees
scent jar in a vest pocket
and a 22 ruger on the hip
smooth clean strokes
hide on the shoulder
another carcass in a tree rinse and repeat –
long barren abandon railroad
lacking ties
lies
cinder rock sunbaked
sage and Juniper
mule deer and pronghorn
lonely cottontail narrowing avoiding
hungry coyote gaze
sunsets cast purple shadows
orange and pink streaks stretch the horizon
flat backed in green grass
smiling into infinity
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
I fall asleep at 5:03
And dream of little crying bunnies
Cupcakes and smiles and sweet milk
Laced with arsenic hunger like honey
The crashing shore juxtaposed
With the little girl in the lily white dress
And sickeningly sweet fluffy blankets
Suffocating under the loving care of duress
Like dead leaves cast aside under the rug
Burying any trace of coveted sexuality
The condition of listening to soft voices
Shrieking against the delusion of humanity
Gods know there's no denying the steady decline
Or the inherent madness of existential doubt
There is too much chirping and comfort in this room
Too many windows not looking out
Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 2:29 PM UTC
The rabbit quickly ran.
“Run, Cottontail, as fast as you can!”
On his fuzzy heels he sped,
Frightened simply by something he read.
“Must be a lie,” he yelled.
He swore last time he saw the turtle he was fast asleep in his shell.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
elastic synapses bring me back
momentarily
before projecting future visions
across the landscape of my mind’s eye
youthful vigor and swaying pines
sage wafting across the high desert
at sunset –
my heart yearns to return home
to a place it has never lived
but always loved
broken feldspar littered
juniper and jackrabbits
in January –
rusted jalopy rattles down
pumas pathways
seeking the young buck
recently free from velvet
hunger tempering the shot
starving children
create a year-round season –
lost in time
wagon wheels still rest along wind beaten fences
tumbleweeds build mountains
along the west side
of run down shacks
the vestibule of the cottontail
the vestige of a forgotten age –
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
When i was little i remember things that no longer are,
Like seeing the sky full of endless stars.
I remember watching the giant birds flying free,
Their home no more was the river of Sespe.
My mind goes back to when the waters ran wild,
Pushing and pulling me when i was a child.
I saw clouds puffier than a giants cottontail,
The fillmore train riding its rail.
I rode without seat belts and ate all on my plate,
Life when i was a little was nothing but great.
My toys made of matel and i played in the dirt,
I made mud pies and stained my shirt.
Telivision was black and white
and there was no remote control,
Back when the firplace had to be cleaned of its coal.
There was no internet, cellphones or xbox,
We had a desease called chickenpox.
I remember fruit trees for miles i would see,
Everything when i was little is worth remembering.
Now that im all grown nothing is the same,
Its scares me to think what the world has became.
Surrounded by lights now the stars cant shine through,
And the California Condor is gone now too.
The rivers once full are now dessert dry,
The clouds are man made and i ask why?
The train still on track it drives the same rail,
Seat belts a must or you go to jail.
Electronics are what kids play these days,
In fact kids are impossible to raise.
I remember when i was little and wishing to be just that,
No other place in life i would rather be at.
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC
Peter Peter cottontail
Tie your noose, don’t let it trail
you’ll be gone, you’ll be so young
Just like all the other ones
Jack be nimble, jack be quick
Don’t you know the baby’s sick?
She’ll be dead before you know
So hurry up, don’t be so slow
Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo
Fairy Godmother, where were you?
The gun was put up to their head
You didn’t stop them from being dead
Twinkle twinkle little star
Won’t you tell us where they are?
They left and yet your mouth is shut
You saw that bomb that blew them up
Fairy tale’s might be there
To entertain, but beware
They won’t help you in the end
No, fairy tales are not your friend
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
the boy had never seen a rabbit so still
only its fur moved in the cruel wind
he pulled an arrow from his quiver
and took aim at the cottontail
his hands shook from the cold, but the
arrow struck its mark, almost
the shaft lodged itself in the creature's hind leg
now the rabbit hobbled in the deep snow
leaving a thin red trail on the white blanket until
the boy caught his prey and snapped its neck
fresh hot meat for the night's meal
his father would be proud
almost back to the village, the boy spotted the wolf,
white, nearly invisible in the drifts
he drew another arrow, but then remembered
what the elders had said
a white wolf in winter may not be harmed
and a gift must be proffered
the boy sheathed his arrow, and lay the rabbit
in the snow, the animal's blood still warm
the wolf and the boy watched each other
and a great gust swelled
the boy turned away from the blast, the wolf;
behind him he heard the howls
a synchronicity, the wail of the wolf wedded to the wind
a marriage of flesh and the elements
the two were one in the boy's ears, until he found
his lodge and warmed his hands with fire's gift
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 11:49 PM UTC
Vivid Cottonwood images lay across my natural muse ...
Lake dancers sway in the shadows , Georgia red clay
bears earthen testament to her aquatic wonders , teeming along
every living shoreline ..
A prayer before bucolic entities , Bream , Shellcracker and Gopher tortoise , Whitetail Doe and Cottontail rabbit ...
To Bear Creek , cascading mother of Port Lake , to deep western forest as far as my eyes can bear witness ...
The deep blue eyes of my creator , juniper green cover and songbird filled canopy , to the sweet ambrosia of native grasses singing in the afternoon winds ...
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
Brown Thrasher looking left then right ., plotting her next move , dancing across fresh grass bathed in morning dew , Pileated Wood Pecker sings her morning song , rhythmically putting her toil to music , percussive taps draw inquisitive Eastern Gray Squirrels to her job site , playing and dancing from limb to limb , tree to tree unaware of danger above , Red tail Hawk soaring on warm air high above , Sun at her back , confusing potential prey below , mercifully giving her position away , high above the canopy of Maple , Sweet Gum and majestic Georgia Pine where a cottontail rabbit , frozen , nose twitching , ears turning to and fro , eases out of the tree line to awaiting sustenance in thick fields of green grass , berry , pine nut and bulb ...
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
*Striated red brick home with a
red tip hedgerow
Songs from the hardwoods
Twinkling grass from burgeoning
dawn , a crown of stippled gray and white
pillows billowing in the morning sun
Bluebirds atop the black farm bell
Stained glass tree trunks and branches against blue
windows , misty clouds in shady dales
Noonday news of Muscogee tales , of thick , brown
rivers , painted turtles , shellcracker , wooden bridges ,
scenic rails , cottonmouth and cottontail , whitetails
and cottondales*...
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC
they loved sundays
a time for family
good food
weekend stories
and hunting
there was a cottontail
adored by the wolves
they caressed her
and gave her a loving home
where she could run free and roam
it wasn't a problem, she thought
it was a simple banter in the wild
simple words said in the woods
but i tell you it would do no good
she was young and naive
raised to respect
but they were old and wise
which she did not expect
when she was lost in the woods
the little cottontail did not know
that they were wolves
a predator in the wild
and she was their helpless little prey
begging them to go away
May 20, 2021
May 20, 2021 at 7:06 PM UTC
Briar vines merely scratched the itch for more ,
porcelain fingers tattooed wine red
Morning rays become possessed , muting -
early day laughter and fervent desires
Humid air thickened with pine , wild grass ,
-fertile humus , clay and wisteria
Stirring the brown locust , bluebird , thrasher ,
Guinea wasp , blue skink , toad and cottontail
Three ripe berries in the jar , one for the forager ,
one for the eve , one for the morrow
Traipsing gravel byways to the music of the rattling corn , ****** broomsage and the iron harrow
A whitewashed homestead wrapped in oak ,
mulberry , sycamore and crape myrtle ,
Songbirds of every shape and melodious -
occupation , alert geese crying from the -
hedgerows , waves of sorghum dancing in the -
shaded meadows ...
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 1:48 AM UTC
that unending
grip
stomach
throat
that everything can be taken
away
the day
you pegged the
cottontail with
your
22-rifle
unaware
until
short breaths
between
eyes dart
quick and eternal
riding the edge of the
moments
death waits behind
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC